’19 A To Z Challenge – R

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AtoZ2019Letter R

 

 

Raven

My grandson asked, When is raven a verb? (With all due apologies to Edgar Allen Poe) When it’s pronounced (rah-ven),
verb (used without object)
to seek plunder or prey.
to eat or feed voraciously or greedily: to raven like an animal.
to seize as spoil or prey.
to devour voraciously.
Noun; rapine; robbery.
plunder or prey.

and it’s a homograph
noun; a word of the same written form as another but of different meaning and usually origin, whether pronounced the same way or not, as bear “to carry; support” and bear “animal” or lead “to conduct” and lead “metal.”

I will read the same book today, that I read last night.

The nurse wound the bandage around his wound.

I had to polish my Polish aunt’s end table.

I demanded that he produce the produce from his farm.

We should refuse to throw refuse out our car windows

He would not desert her, out here in the desert.

We did not present her present last night, so we have to do it today, in the present.

Don’t play your bass while you’re fishing for bass.

She finally had to bow to the inevitable, and buy her son a toy bow and arrow set.

When he dove into the lake, it startled the dove.

I would not object, if that ugly object were removed.

They had a big row over who had to row the boat.

His claim to be an invalid, was proven to be invalid.

Are you close enough to the front door to close it firmly?

After he would mow the lawn, he would mow into a big lunch.

All the deer who came to feed were does. Why does that matter?

The sewer managed to repair the shirt that he had ripped in the sewer.

The old sow had eaten all the seed wheat that he had planned to sow.

If the wind gusts any stronger, it will wind that flag right around the pole.

I just took a real buffet. Some guy almost body-checked me, on my way to the buffet.

If you tear down the sidewalk, you might fall and tear your pants. Then you’ll shed a tear.

I had to scuttle downstairs to add a scuttle of coal to the old furnace, because I didn’t want to scuttle the great party.

I can’t even write a short simple sentence for the word founder. As a noun, it might be a person who starts a town, or a business. Or, it may be a metal-worker who toils in a foundry. As a verb, it means to become wrecked, fail entirely, sink, or fall down.

You cannot subject the Queen’s subject to this kind of questioning.

The author was trying to intimate that the butler had been intimate with Her Ladyship.

I don’t think that most husbands want to converse with their wives during a hockey game. Rather, I believe the converse, that they just want quiet.

Why doesn’t Buick rhyme with quick? For that matter, why isn’t imply pronounced like limply? If a male sheep is called a ram, and a male donkey is called an ass, why is a ram-in-the-ass called a goose?

Somebody goosed me, so I’ll have another post ready in a couple of days. C U   😀

Saturday’s Sharp Shots

 

These are the photos of the art knives from the knife show I recently attended in Toronto.  The first four are from the South African maker.  They were not on display at this show, but are taken from his advertising.  Note the patterning in the Damascus steel of his blades, and in other photos.

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This one from a lady maker from Wisconsin.  It has no finger nick, but can be opened manually.  If you don’t tell the nice policeman, it also has a hidden spring, and an adjustment stick which turns it into a switchblade.  Don’t you feel safer that the Government has banned these things? Some of the makers put out notes about their knives’ content.

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The next bunch are by a maker who produces fine knives, but also spends hours and hours scrimshawing beautiful pictures on the handles.  Do you like the coming-and-going, wildcat pair, in color?  He did the same type of thing a few years ago, in black and white – chalk on ebony, and carbon on ivory.

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Hardly recognizable as a knife, this was the most artistic (?), and most expensive.  Note the $14,500 price tag.    😯

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Looking somewhat like an Eskimo ulu, this is actually modeled after a European knife/tool used to scrape the excess off the backs of hides for tanning.  Aside from looking pretty, this one has a razor edge, and can be used to prepare food, or at the table to slice roasts, etc.

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The son bought a $1200 Katana from the same guy who made the blade of the Katana that he won, three years ago.  I’ll show pictures of them in a future post.  In the meantime, the rest of these are gorgeous.

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SDC10640SDC10637A razor sharp meteorite knife, cheap at $2300.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Old Stuff I Own

BrainRants has recently published a couple of posts about strange old stuff he owns, with the accent on strange. The first was about a truly bizarre little plastic/rubber Gollywog, whose childhood acquisition and continuing possession may help explain his current mental state.

I don’t own any strange things, although with me, that’s hard to prove. I do still have chunks of glacier in my freezer, from the last ice age, so I thought I might write about a couple of long-owned/old items that the Historical Museum hasn’t got their hands on yet.

SDC10528No surprise, I’m starting with a knife. This was the second knife I ever bought, just before I turned 16, late in the summer of 1960. I had possessed several knives before this one, but they had been gifts or found items. The first knife I bought was exactly the same size and shape as this one, except that it had rough faux-bone handles.

While the “hold” was better, I preferred the sleek white faux-seashell look of this one, and lost/sold/broke the first one. Back then folding pocket knives didn’t lock in the open position, and care had to be taken when using them, lest they close on an unwary finger.

I carried this one till well after I got married. We moved into a geared-to-income housing compound. Built by the lowest bidder, there was a round electrical box on the ceiling of the basement laundry area, but no light fixture. I didn’t want to wait for an overburdened maintenance dept. and, being a Handy-Dandy DIY guy, (Yuk, Yuk) I decided to install one myself.

Since there was no light to turn on and off, I traced the electrical cable back to the breaker box, and then the black power line down to its breaker, which I turned off, for safety. I climbed back up on a wooden chair, and pulled down the power line to cut the insulation off, so that I could connect the fixture.

Suddenly, there was a ZAP, and a photo flash went off right beside my eyes. When I could see again, I looked at the wire and my knife. There are two power lines inside each cable. I had turned off the power to the black one – and cut into the still-live red one.

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The more sharp-eyed among you may already have noticed what this close-up shows. I had bridged from the live wire to the edge of the box, and burned a notch right out of the center of the blade. I wasn’t shocked, except by the damage to my pretty little knife, which has gone into semi-retirement in the utility room, cutting off shrink-wrap and into cardboard food boxes.

 

Soon after, in the fall of 1970, I found this replacement knife at K-Mart, that defender of the American Way. Manufactured when Pakistan thought that it could produce steel, and I only cared about a pointy tip and a beveled edge, I bought this little Sabre knife, making it about as old as Rants.SDC10529

With wooden scales and a thicker body, this one is a bit easier to hold and use. It also has a back-lock at the rear of the handle, making it a bit safer to use. It has outlasted 6 or 7 belt pouches, going into retirement in an indestructible nylon sheath which only needed its Velcro closer replaced.

This was largely a “work” knife, cutting strapping, plastic and vinyl sheet and cardboard cartons. It has cut at least two co-workers out of shoes whose laces just would just not untie. It has quartered and cored countless apples and pears, and started tough banana peels. It has opened several cans of pop (soda) whose tabs broke off. It has also acted as a can opener to several tins of beans, soup and pasta, for friends who mistakenly thought the lunch room had a working can opener.

I’m a lot more careful about the tips and edges of my carry knife these days. After almost 45 years of tough usage, this little $5.99 “piece of crap” doesn’t owe me a thing. More old stuff, including jokes, later.