"saved my bacon"
What a weird expression. I wouldn't have thought that I had any bacon to save. And if I DID have bacon I wouldn't save it, I'd EAT it. Mmm...bacon. Bacon is so yummy. It's one of those foods that makes everything better. Like butter. Or crème fraîche. (Mmmmmm...crème fraîche). Did you know that EVERY.SINGLE.TIME I mention crème fraîche in this journal,* I have to go google it to be sure I'm spelling it correctly with all the little accents? Me, the spelling queen? It's pathetic, that's what. But that little ˆ hovering over the i makes me nervous. I don't know what it's called either, and "i with a roof" may sound elementary, but I am sure it's incorrect.
I know it's not an umlaut or a breve or a cedilla or a tilde or an accent; I'm not a complete lingual moron. But as a proud, badge-wearing, former English major, I'm a bit embarrassed to admit I don't know the names of all the diacritical marks.
God, I love Google! It's called a circumflex! Can you imagine how long that would have taken me to look up in the antediluvian pre-internet era? If I had struck out with the dictionary, all I would have had left would have been the encyclopedia from 1983 IN SWEDISH. Speaking of which, how in the hell do I convince my husband that it's okay to let that shelf-wasting 25-book row of green and gold-embossed dinosaurs GO? He's said the kids might find it useful when they get up into higher classes. I think all it's good for now is collage fodder. But I digress. Man, do I ever.
Working late yesterday wasn't all that saved my bacon, though. Going to bed at 8 p.m. on Tuesday helped. Choir helped. My children and my husband helped. Your comments and wellwishing helped. An email this morning from a dear, observant, internet friend REALLY helped. The backrub I'm going to ask my husband for in a few moments will help, too. Sleeping in tomorrow and having NO PLANS WHATSOEVER will definitely help. Every little bit helps.
Really Great Writing Out There Right Now: Refuting Advocates for Ignorance
The Kind of Dream I Wish I Had: I was walking very fast (superhumanly dreamworld fast) on a bike path, and instead of saying "on your right" or whatever when overtaking people I was flapping my arms and screaming, "FREAKOUT!" at the top of my lungs. Then, a few strides later when I overtook the startled pedestrian I would turn my head and say, in a just-for-your-information tone, "Le freak. C'est chic." I woke up smiling. (Mimi Smartypants)
Attention Writers! The next deadline for Mosaic Minds is rapidly approaching on March 1st. Won't you consider submitting a piece? We are always on the lookout for good-quality prose, poetry, articles and essays! The theme is Never Say Never, but only feature articles need to follow the theme, so you have a free hand. :)
*Which is a lot. Which would also explain a few things if I didn't have my hands over my ears, singing "lalalala!"