I am now the proud owner of not one, two, or three... but FOUR bags4darfur.

At least until Christmas...

When I give some away...

*sigh*

Joyce (www.bags4darfur.blogspot.com) came out to Prov for the evening this week - as did Alicia Sawatzky and her friend Miriam - to share their hearts with a small group of college students.  And I got to buy bags.  I danced... almost... but I am too over-inhibited to enact my delight so overtly, but I danced inside all the same.  The remainder of the evening was spent chatting with Miriam and Alicia at Sawatzky's place - enjoying a cup of tea and a much-needed night away, a restful sleep, and an early sunrise drive back to Prov for class.  Love sunrises... it made me think fondly (?!!?!) of the quiet hour between five and six in the morning when I worked summertime night shifts and the sun faithfully peeked its face above the horizon to greet me and sweep the cobwebs out of my sleep-deprived mind.


In other news... for those of you who know my penchant for words... I successfully incorporated the word bowdlerized into a paper last week.
def:
bowdlerize |ˈbōdləˌrīz; ˈboud-|verb [ trans. ]remove material that is considered improper or offensive from (a text or account), esp. with the result that it becomes weaker or less effective : [as adj. ] ( bowdlerized) a bowdlerized version of the story.DERIVATIVESbowdlerism |-ˌrizəm| nounbowdlerization |ˌbōdləriˈzā sh ən; ˌboud-| nounORIGIN mid 19th cent.: from the name of Dr. Thomas Bowdler (1754–1825), who published an expurgated edition of Shakespeare in 1818, + -ize .
ie: "Disseminating emotion and truth through masterful use of language, Stumbling Toward Faith liberates those whose confused and angry prayers have been bowdlerized by cliche Christian optimism; it is a referee's whistle to those who dare provide simplistic answers to complex questions; it is an invitation to intimacy with an unfathomable God."


But today is a new day.  Another research paper is calling to me from the chaos of library books scattered across my bedroom floor, whining petulantly because I have neglected him for the past month.  He pours on a guilt-trip... the drivel of an insecure bloodsucker who resents the attention I lavish on riceandpeanutbutter.blogspot.  The chatter of an auctioneer at a fundraiser nearby is blending into the white noise that will help me focus for the next four hours.  Green tea in hand, relaxed after last night spent lounging in the hot tub.  I'm taking word suggestions - this paper is begging for a new word - something that will provide a moment's entertainment for Dennis, who has the dubious privilege of reading it 48 hours from now.
Ideas?