No, the Daily Drabble Hasn't Died!
I had all intentions of doing a four-drabble series on Monday and catching up from there, but alas, real life intervened. Between dealing with my car and an unexpected shower of warrants from the Warrant Gods and trying to finish my hubby's ghost story in time for his birthday, the drabble went the way of the dodo. Then yesterday's word was "cum." Cum! No, not meant in that way, but it's not a word I was willing to use in a drabble. Call me crazy. But today's word is simply too good to pass up. So consider this the resurrection (again) of the daily drabble.
hobbledehoy \HOB-uhl-dee-hoy\, noun:
An awkward, gawky young fellow.
Examples
"For early on, girls become aware -- as much from their fathers' anguished bellows of "You're not going out dressed like that, Miss" as from the buffoonish reactions of the spotty hobbledehoys at the end-of-term disco -- of the power of clothes to seduce."
-Jane Shilling, "Soft-centred punk", Times (London), October 27, 2000
"His memories, even only reveries, of incomparable women, made me feel like a hulking hobbledehoy."
-Edith Anderson, Love in Exile
"Unfortunately, they have to contend with ignorant hobbledehoys who, on seeing these rows of shingle heaps, feel compelled to jump on them."
-Susan Campbell, "He grows seakale on the seashore", Daily Telegraph, March 27, 1999
Etymology
The origin of hobbledehoy is unknown, though it perhaps derives from hobble, from the awkward movements of a clumsy adolescent.
This day's drabble is Maedhros and Fingon. In a friendly context, people! (Jenni and Alina, I can see your raised eyebrows and hear you thinking, "I just bet they were friendly!") You're welcome to interpret any subtext that you want, but I meant it as "friendly" in the non-nefarious sense, for once. Really.
This after I noticed a typo in the earlier paragraph: "This day's drabble is Maedhros in Fingon." Just low blood sugar. Nothing nefarious. Really.
Reunion
Years passed without seeing him, and though I knew that he grew-as all young Elves do-I saw him forever as the gangly hobbledehoy with stammering speech and footfalls alike, ignored except for his acts of foolishness.
Hardly a prince.
So now, at our reunion, I look for him among the throng. (He has a way of making his presence known in a crash of dishes or rippling murmur of offense.) There is a man-tall, clearly a lord, with gold entwined in his hair; my heart squeezes at his beauty. I will ask him of my cousin Findekano.
hobbledehoy \HOB-uhl-dee-hoy\, noun:
An awkward, gawky young fellow.
Examples
"For early on, girls become aware -- as much from their fathers' anguished bellows of "You're not going out dressed like that, Miss" as from the buffoonish reactions of the spotty hobbledehoys at the end-of-term disco -- of the power of clothes to seduce."
-Jane Shilling, "Soft-centred punk", Times (London), October 27, 2000
"His memories, even only reveries, of incomparable women, made me feel like a hulking hobbledehoy."
-Edith Anderson, Love in Exile
"Unfortunately, they have to contend with ignorant hobbledehoys who, on seeing these rows of shingle heaps, feel compelled to jump on them."
-Susan Campbell, "He grows seakale on the seashore", Daily Telegraph, March 27, 1999
Etymology
The origin of hobbledehoy is unknown, though it perhaps derives from hobble, from the awkward movements of a clumsy adolescent.
This day's drabble is Maedhros and Fingon. In a friendly context, people! (Jenni and Alina, I can see your raised eyebrows and hear you thinking, "I just bet they were friendly!") You're welcome to interpret any subtext that you want, but I meant it as "friendly" in the non-nefarious sense, for once. Really.
This after I noticed a typo in the earlier paragraph: "This day's drabble is Maedhros in Fingon." Just low blood sugar. Nothing nefarious. Really.
Reunion
Years passed without seeing him, and though I knew that he grew-as all young Elves do-I saw him forever as the gangly hobbledehoy with stammering speech and footfalls alike, ignored except for his acts of foolishness.
Hardly a prince.
So now, at our reunion, I look for him among the throng. (He has a way of making his presence known in a crash of dishes or rippling murmur of offense.) There is a man-tall, clearly a lord, with gold entwined in his hair; my heart squeezes at his beauty. I will ask him of my cousin Findekano.