I have discovered a life-changing thing, my friends: Setting a blog post to go live at whatever hour you choose whether or not you’re anywhere near the computer at the time! I mean, yeah, I’d heard of other bloggers doing this, but I assumed it was witchcraft (or technological savvy, which in some ways is just as far out of my reach), so I never tried to figure out how it’s done.
Do you realize what this means?! Well, here’s a hint: This post has gone live on a Saturday morning. That’s right: Even while I’m off being Elizabethan at the Bristol Renaissance Faire, Ever On Word can participate in Save-a-Word Saturday!
What’s that? It’s been so long since my last Save-a-Word Saturday blog post that its significance escapes you? Allow me to bring you up to speed:
1) Create a post linking back to the hosts, The Feather and the Rose.
2) Pick an old word you want to save from extinction to feature in the post. (If you find yourself in want of options, Feather ‘n’ Rose recommended a site that may have some word-lovers drooling. Luciferous Logolepsy. Even its name is old and delicious!)
3) Provide a definition of your word, and use it in a sentence/short paragraph/mini story vaguely related to the particular week’s chosen theme.
4) Sign up properly on the host post’s linky list so participants can easily find each other and share their logophilistic joy.
5) Be a hero by sharing these retro words with the world!
I’ve been participating in the weekly fun via my “Ballad of Allyn-a-Dale”, giving myself the extra challenge/fun of relating every word I pick to my re-imagining of the Robin Hood legend (a.k.a. the magnum opus to be self-published after the completion of “The Wilderhark Tales”). And now that I’ve learned how to pre-schedule posts, I can display the vignettes here for the blog-inclined to see, too!
So, without further delay, here’s my word-saving civic duty of the day.
The theme: Lamp Shades.
The word: “Boot”, a noun meaning “advantage”.
The ache in his head pulled Allyn awake. He moaned, then hissed sharply as his eyes opened to a light that intensified the pain twofold. One eye closed against the glare, the other squinted and roved side to side to take in his environment. Stone walls around him. Rich sheets of red and gold beneath him. Will Scarlet’s bedchamber. He moaned again. “What the dale happened last night?”
“Oh, good, you’re awake!” Will’s voice clanged in his ear. “I’ve been half-wondering whether I’d killed you. It’s bloody evening already!”
Allyn’s intended venom-filled glower cut short with another hiss and an arm thrown over his face. “Do something about that blasted light, or you will have killed me.”
“Sorry. Here.” The darkness beyond Allyn’s covered vision deepened. “Your hat will do as a lamp shade, for now, provided it doesn’t catch fire. Sorry about your head, too. I should have known better than to let things go so far; anyone could have guessed I’d have the boot in a drinking game against a featherweight like you. Next time we’ll try for a game you’ve got a shot at win—”
“No more shots!” Allyn wailed.
“Right… bad choice of words. Let me run down to the Glade and see what mystical herby things the Fey Folk have got for hangovers.”