It's week 124 of the Weekly (formerly known as "Saturday") Wordzzle Challenge. Special thanks Argent for this week's words. Wow, Argent! I hope you're having as difficult a time with these words as I am. Oh, my.... they're killing me. It's 10:00 pm and I've finally gotten a mini and a 10-word. I think I need to let my brain rest and do the mega in the morning. Thanks for the challenge. I think.
Is anyone besides me having an awful time with the new blogger thingy? Things don't stay where I put them and I get huge gaps of space. I redid the post to eliminate them and hope that holds. Very frustrating. My nephew (bless him) fixed the spacing by copying everything into notepad and reposting it. This apparently takes out all the code. I just tried to reinstate the bolding and color, but that mucked everything up again and I just can't do battle with this any more, so I apologize for not making the words clear, but blogger has defeated me for the time being. I'd rather have paragraphs (they went away when I tried to restore bold and color - the opposite of my original problem which was huge gaps of space...) Anyway... hopefully next week, I can return to normalcy but not today.
Thank you for playing! Newcomers can check here for some guidelines (and they are only guidelines, not rules) to make the process more fun.<
Words for this week's 10-word challenge were:
corner, cold-stone, rolex, sole, effortless, raindrops, eyebrow, speaker, amusing, leapt
And for the mini: fluid, acreage, fasten, tripe, pages
The disheveled speaker on the corner leapt effortlessly from foot to foot in a kind of strange frenetic dance. It might have been amusing if what he was saying had not been so filled with a mix of hate and fear and despair. Martha lifted an eyebrow in surprise as a well dressed man, impeccably groomed, rolex on his wrist approached him, a mix of disgust and compassion on his face. He seemed frozen to the cold-stone sidewalk, unaware of the raindrops dripping off his hat or the muck into which thesoles of his shiny polished shoes were losing their perfect new-ness. "Father?" he whispered, half crying, half terrified. "Father?" But the oblivious old man looked through him and ranted on. She felt like she had intruded on something so painfully private that she should turn and walk away, but instead unable to stop herself - she reached out a hand and asked the young man. "Is there any way I can help?"
"I adore watching your fluid movements as you move through the fields of wheat, my beloved Miranda... Your beauty increases the value of my acreage...." Spencer Wheatly intoned in his best stage voice. Then he turned to angrily fasten his eyes angrily on the director and asked, "Who wrote this tripe anyway?" throwing the pages of new script onto the floor of the stage. The director stiffened and his wife, sitting beside him, gasped in dismay and began crying. Question answered, Spencer thought to himself. To her he said, "I'm sorry if I have hurt your feelings madam, but your writing is beyond awful. Better you hear it now, than down the road in debt and in the laughter of critics and audiences." She didn't appear to hear him, but thought he saw a shudder of relief flow though the body of his old friend, the director and maybe a nod of thanks.
My mother was the most god-awful cook you can imagine, Nigel Wickenbottom drawled into the speaker in a quiet voice. She got fastened onto idea that things like tripe and filet of sole were de rigueur, I think. She had visions of marrying a count - someone with a manor house and acreage and a title - and she thought somehow that poisoning me would make her seem more upper crust. Poor Mum. Nothing was effortless for her and she made everything more complicated than it needed to be even so. She leapt at every new fad, scouring the pages of all the fancy magazines to see what fashion was in style, how her eyebrows should be shaped, glopping one fluid and cream after another onto her skin in hopes of somehow making herself acceptable. It would have been amusing if it wasn't so tragic and painful. Because, you see, she was a beautiful charming woman when she wasn't trying so hard. Not the best analogy, but she never saw herself for who she was... she thought she was a timex that needed constant upgrading, when in reality, she was the most inherently more unique and elegant than the finest rolex. If she hadn't spent so much effort being something she wasn't she could have cornered the market on men.... His voice was quivering a bit now... but because she tried so hard, nobody saw her... and in her desperation she fell vicitm to those with the most cold stone... i mean stone cold hearts... His tears were falling now, raindrops of love and sorrow. Others in the crowd were weeping with him. "She died too young," he finished up, "never seeing that she didn't have to do anything to be magnificent. She was magnificent. I loved her very much. Rest in peace, sweet darling," he said in conclusion. And at her funeral, all who had loved her - and they were many - wept.
Words for next week's 10-word challenge are: pyramid, laughter, orangutan, recycling, infinity, toilet paper, greasy dishes, Spanish, preparation, back-up
And for the mini: carpet, cane, outer space, hand ball, ambitious
Thank you for playing! Newcomers can check here for some guidelines (and they are only guidelines, not rules) to make the process more fun.
Enjoy! See you next week!