The Day's Drabble and Other Crazy Crap
Okay, I am going to try my hardest to write something today that is not depressing. Promise :)
The word is a funny-sounding one, so that helps.
Word of the Day--farrago
farrago \fuh-RAH-go; fuh-RAY-go\, noun;
plural farragoes:
A confused mixture; an assortment; a medley.
Examples
"Ivan Illich writes 'a farrago of sub-Marxist cliches, false analogies, non sequiturs, false or bent facts and weird prophesies.'"
-"The Paul Johnson Enemies List," New York Times, September 18, 1977
"Roy Hattersley will upset much of Scotland by calling Walter Scott's lvanhoe 'a farrago of historical nonsense combined with maudlin romance.'"
-"Literary classics panned by critics," Independent, January 18, 1999
"From the moment the story of the Countess of Wessex and the Sheikh of Wapping broke, there has been a farrago of rumour, speculation and fantasy of which virtually every newspaper should be ashamed."
-Roy Greenslade, "A sting in the tale," The Guardian, April 9, 2001
Etymology
Farrago comes from the Latin farrago, "a mixed fodder for cattle," hence "a medley, a hodgepodge," from far, a kind of grain.
The Invasion
Our army is quite the farrago. My dark-haired brothers, one with the color in his cheeks and one who looks like Atar, and the red-haired little ones. And Macalaurë, sighing his disapproval while his eyes gleam with mischief.
And me, golden-haired, the commander.
Singular is our focus: our eldest brother, stretched in the syrupy afternoon light alongside the fountain, reading a book with his eyes closed. It is the best spot on the property to play, and he is wasting it on sleep?
With a shout, we rush at him, and with a shriek and a splash, claim our prize.
~oOo~
Of course, this makes the Fëanorian brothers closer in age than I envision, but I am willing to take some license with my version of the canon in order to write a non-depressing drabble for a change.
Yesterday, I had big plans for the day. I was going to do some beta work. I was going to post my quadrabble. But I had so much work to do! Yes, bona fide parole and probation warrant-type work! Some of it was my own fault because, while doing the monthly stats, I noticed some disturbing trends in the data and shared them with my boss, who was also disturbed. I then offered to do some extra distributions and analyses to pinpoint the problem, which was an offer that he took, of course.
But I didn't mind. I enjoy doing stats, when I actually get to do stats. I would sooner have a day full of stats than to research warrants, especially since they've been mucking with our network and CJIS routinely misbehaves and makes warrant research an ordeal.
Oh, speaking of stats, our unit actually set a new record last month: We had 71 arrests! That is a lot for a ten-person team (especially since one person was out after he was stabbed in the hand and pushed down a flight of stairs by one of our subjects this spring. That is why I like boring days here. Exciting days are usually not good.)
I am pretty sure that 71 arrests is a team record. I know that it is a record for our unit. I will have to go through the old stats later today and find out if 71 is the team record.
Then, last night was pasta night at my parents' house, and I received some surprising/disturbing news. Apparently, the guy who was general manager at The Piece when I left there went home in tears the other day. (This comes from Potter, our friend, who still works there.) I was not dismayed by the fact alone of a grown man crying in public as Gary (the manager) once managed to drive to work, make his way all the way down the mallway and into the store, only to "pass out" from pain just inside the door. Why? Because his wisdom tooth hurt. Now, I have had an infected wisdom tooth, and that is a bitch, but to pass out? Come on! Coincidentally, he had asked our district boss for that day off and was told he couldn't have it. Hmmm....
So I figured it was one of his tricks. Whenever he wanted time off, his wisdom tooth or his knee would hurt. (This man was 24 years old when I left. My 62-year-old father has fewer aches and pains!) But, last night, Potter told us that his wife Jen had left him. Whoa.
Gary and I (as you can probably discern) did not part on good terms. Once, we were best friends. Literally. Bobby and I used to do *everything* with Gary and Jen. We had dinner out at least once a week; we hung out over each other houses and watched movies or went swimming. Gary was practically a part of our family. My dad used to buy lunchmeat just for him and keep it in the refrigerator because he was over so much.
Jen, though, I never liked. I put up with her because she is was Gary's wife and Gary was my friend, but Bobby put it best last night when he said, "She is a vindictive bitch." She is one of those people who I want to look in the eye and say, "What is your point in being here? What purpose do you serve in this world except to be a parasite?"
After their daughter was born, Jen decided that she couldn't do work anymore that required her to be on her feet, and since the woman who had been our bookeeper at the restaurant for many years was retiring, then she wanted that job. The problem, of course, was that her husband was the GM and she'd worked there before and they were unable to keep their personal and professional lives separate. They would have screaming arguments about money in the back or he would allow her to blatantly violate rules that everyone else was expected to follow.
My mom was the manager's assistant at the time. She wrote the schedule, did the inventory, and managed most of the paperwork. Jen's idea was that she would take over bookeeping, all of my mom's duties, and so be able to sit on her lazy ass in the office all day with her kid next to her in a stroller, going out to smoke as often as she wanted and eating all of her meals for free. When that didn't work out, Jen and Gary began the process of having my family eliminated one by one from the restaurant.
I quit on my own accord, because of a dispute I had with Gary. He harrassed my mom to the point that she walked out one day, after working there for twelve years. My dad--their best shift manager--was told that he had to transfer to another store or lose his job. Legal action was pursued, but not much came of it. Worker's rights are still very fragile in this country, although most people don't learn this until they seek retribution against wrongful termination and learn that they can't.
So, needless to say, Potter's news that Jen had left Gary created a lot of mixed emotions for me.
I have never doubted that Jen was the driving force behind what transpired between our family and theirs. And I never thought that their marriage would last. She was downright abusive to Gary, and as his friend, it was always sickening to watch. He is better off without her, but I know how devoted he was to her and their daughter, and it is sad to think that he is the one suffering for it, when really, he did no wrong except to be unbelievably dense and stupid. But love is blind, they say.
I have been gone from The Piece for almost two years now. I have been working very hard to forgive Gary over those years because I do not like hatred to poison my life, and it seems that I finally have found success in that. When I think of him, I do not get that overwhelming feeling of anger that I once did, that we were such good friends and I was so loyal to that store for so long, and he trashed it the way he did, but rather, feel very sorry for him because a person who was once well-liked (if not always well respected) turned each of his friends away one by one because of Jen, and now what does he have? Certainly not her.
He had the chance to go to a four-year college free of charge in Florida and turned it down because Jen didn't want to go. He has no friends left because Jen found flaw with each of them in turn. He is stuck with a mortgage and payments on two new cars because she skipped out on him. It is really sad.
Last week, if I had seen Gary, I would have said something snarky to him. I would have let Feanor talk to him, in other words :) Now, I can't even muster up enough anger towards him to make myself think something nasty about him. I am just really sad for him.
I didn't mean to write that much. As usual, I got carried away :)
The word is a funny-sounding one, so that helps.
Word of the Day--farrago
farrago \fuh-RAH-go; fuh-RAY-go\, noun;
plural farragoes:
A confused mixture; an assortment; a medley.
Examples
"Ivan Illich writes 'a farrago of sub-Marxist cliches, false analogies, non sequiturs, false or bent facts and weird prophesies.'"
-"The Paul Johnson Enemies List," New York Times, September 18, 1977
"Roy Hattersley will upset much of Scotland by calling Walter Scott's lvanhoe 'a farrago of historical nonsense combined with maudlin romance.'"
-"Literary classics panned by critics," Independent, January 18, 1999
"From the moment the story of the Countess of Wessex and the Sheikh of Wapping broke, there has been a farrago of rumour, speculation and fantasy of which virtually every newspaper should be ashamed."
-Roy Greenslade, "A sting in the tale," The Guardian, April 9, 2001
Etymology
Farrago comes from the Latin farrago, "a mixed fodder for cattle," hence "a medley, a hodgepodge," from far, a kind of grain.
The Invasion
Our army is quite the farrago. My dark-haired brothers, one with the color in his cheeks and one who looks like Atar, and the red-haired little ones. And Macalaurë, sighing his disapproval while his eyes gleam with mischief.
And me, golden-haired, the commander.
Singular is our focus: our eldest brother, stretched in the syrupy afternoon light alongside the fountain, reading a book with his eyes closed. It is the best spot on the property to play, and he is wasting it on sleep?
With a shout, we rush at him, and with a shriek and a splash, claim our prize.
~oOo~
Of course, this makes the Fëanorian brothers closer in age than I envision, but I am willing to take some license with my version of the canon in order to write a non-depressing drabble for a change.
Yesterday, I had big plans for the day. I was going to do some beta work. I was going to post my quadrabble. But I had so much work to do! Yes, bona fide parole and probation warrant-type work! Some of it was my own fault because, while doing the monthly stats, I noticed some disturbing trends in the data and shared them with my boss, who was also disturbed. I then offered to do some extra distributions and analyses to pinpoint the problem, which was an offer that he took, of course.
But I didn't mind. I enjoy doing stats, when I actually get to do stats. I would sooner have a day full of stats than to research warrants, especially since they've been mucking with our network and CJIS routinely misbehaves and makes warrant research an ordeal.
Oh, speaking of stats, our unit actually set a new record last month: We had 71 arrests! That is a lot for a ten-person team (especially since one person was out after he was stabbed in the hand and pushed down a flight of stairs by one of our subjects this spring. That is why I like boring days here. Exciting days are usually not good.)
I am pretty sure that 71 arrests is a team record. I know that it is a record for our unit. I will have to go through the old stats later today and find out if 71 is the team record.
Then, last night was pasta night at my parents' house, and I received some surprising/disturbing news. Apparently, the guy who was general manager at The Piece when I left there went home in tears the other day. (This comes from Potter, our friend, who still works there.) I was not dismayed by the fact alone of a grown man crying in public as Gary (the manager) once managed to drive to work, make his way all the way down the mallway and into the store, only to "pass out" from pain just inside the door. Why? Because his wisdom tooth hurt. Now, I have had an infected wisdom tooth, and that is a bitch, but to pass out? Come on! Coincidentally, he had asked our district boss for that day off and was told he couldn't have it. Hmmm....
So I figured it was one of his tricks. Whenever he wanted time off, his wisdom tooth or his knee would hurt. (This man was 24 years old when I left. My 62-year-old father has fewer aches and pains!) But, last night, Potter told us that his wife Jen had left him. Whoa.
Gary and I (as you can probably discern) did not part on good terms. Once, we were best friends. Literally. Bobby and I used to do *everything* with Gary and Jen. We had dinner out at least once a week; we hung out over each other houses and watched movies or went swimming. Gary was practically a part of our family. My dad used to buy lunchmeat just for him and keep it in the refrigerator because he was over so much.
Jen, though, I never liked. I put up with her because she is was Gary's wife and Gary was my friend, but Bobby put it best last night when he said, "She is a vindictive bitch." She is one of those people who I want to look in the eye and say, "What is your point in being here? What purpose do you serve in this world except to be a parasite?"
After their daughter was born, Jen decided that she couldn't do work anymore that required her to be on her feet, and since the woman who had been our bookeeper at the restaurant for many years was retiring, then she wanted that job. The problem, of course, was that her husband was the GM and she'd worked there before and they were unable to keep their personal and professional lives separate. They would have screaming arguments about money in the back or he would allow her to blatantly violate rules that everyone else was expected to follow.
My mom was the manager's assistant at the time. She wrote the schedule, did the inventory, and managed most of the paperwork. Jen's idea was that she would take over bookeeping, all of my mom's duties, and so be able to sit on her lazy ass in the office all day with her kid next to her in a stroller, going out to smoke as often as she wanted and eating all of her meals for free. When that didn't work out, Jen and Gary began the process of having my family eliminated one by one from the restaurant.
I quit on my own accord, because of a dispute I had with Gary. He harrassed my mom to the point that she walked out one day, after working there for twelve years. My dad--their best shift manager--was told that he had to transfer to another store or lose his job. Legal action was pursued, but not much came of it. Worker's rights are still very fragile in this country, although most people don't learn this until they seek retribution against wrongful termination and learn that they can't.
So, needless to say, Potter's news that Jen had left Gary created a lot of mixed emotions for me.
I have never doubted that Jen was the driving force behind what transpired between our family and theirs. And I never thought that their marriage would last. She was downright abusive to Gary, and as his friend, it was always sickening to watch. He is better off without her, but I know how devoted he was to her and their daughter, and it is sad to think that he is the one suffering for it, when really, he did no wrong except to be unbelievably dense and stupid. But love is blind, they say.
I have been gone from The Piece for almost two years now. I have been working very hard to forgive Gary over those years because I do not like hatred to poison my life, and it seems that I finally have found success in that. When I think of him, I do not get that overwhelming feeling of anger that I once did, that we were such good friends and I was so loyal to that store for so long, and he trashed it the way he did, but rather, feel very sorry for him because a person who was once well-liked (if not always well respected) turned each of his friends away one by one because of Jen, and now what does he have? Certainly not her.
He had the chance to go to a four-year college free of charge in Florida and turned it down because Jen didn't want to go. He has no friends left because Jen found flaw with each of them in turn. He is stuck with a mortgage and payments on two new cars because she skipped out on him. It is really sad.
Last week, if I had seen Gary, I would have said something snarky to him. I would have let Feanor talk to him, in other words :) Now, I can't even muster up enough anger towards him to make myself think something nasty about him. I am just really sad for him.
I didn't mean to write that much. As usual, I got carried away :)