Bill Gold was the columnist for the Washington Post when I was a kid who taught me to love reading the newspaper–he was wise, he was funny, he was generous, he was and showed so much that was good about the area I grew up in.
And I remember his word contests: take any word, add one letter, and give it a definition.
My friend Ruth was marveling a few minutes ago as we chatted that, unlike herself, our friend Holly can knit lace, socks, intricate patterns, and chat at the same time without losing track of the pattern or dropping a stitch–only, the way Ruth put it was, she could do it simpultaneously.
And Ruth goes for the Gold!
It’s late as I type and I’ll come up with more tomorrow, but here’s a start.
Yarn’t. Not going to knit that one.
Musht. Gotta finish that oatmeal.
Spilk. What I did with my hot cocoa on my blouse on Sunday. (Right at the bottom, and I quickly rinsed it off, no problem.)
Prolitics. The likelihood that your candidate will win in November.
Windoww. Why I have scars on my arm from when I was eight.
Hamperr. The one with the happy cat in it.
Birrdfeeder. The one they would go to to cool off on a hot day.
And with that I’m off to bed. Anyone?
Edited to add in the morning, squirrtel. What my supersoaker is.
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