SPEAKING OF FLAPJACKS . . .

I haven’t had any for awhile.  Have you?

How do people come up with titles for their blog posts?  There is definitely an art to it.  I suppose it depends upon whether one wants to cast a large or small net for potential readers.  Being outrageous does garner a certain amount of attention.  Being weird can also be helpful.  Then there’s always the weirdly outrageous, and the outrageously weird . . .

My favorite for today (chosen randomly):

Pollyanna Meanders Through the Random Weirdness Mall 

(Great blog, BTW.  Think robot toilet-paper holders.)

But seriously, speaking of flapjacks . . . aren’t flapjacks so much better than pancakes?  Anyone out there know the etiology of the word “flapjacks”?  When I think of pancakes, I think of wet inert circles of batter in a skillet.  When I think of flapjacks, I think of a crazy-ass athletically-oriented golden and tasty foodstuff that’s gonna high-kick its way onto my plate (hmmm, am I channeling Jack LaLanne?) to the theme from Rocky.  Absurd?  That’s how I like my food.  Feisty.  Defiant.  Not ready for prime time.

Where am I going with this?   I just like words.  I remember falling in love with specific words when I was a child.  Many of them are associated with a set of Childcraft children’s books that included two volumes of poems.  They were wonderfully illustrated in bright colors, and I was also smitten by the images associated with the poems.  There was “The Quangle Wangle’s Hat,” “The Sugarplum Tree,” “Cocoa and Animals,” “The Butterbean Tent,” and hundreds more.  Favorite words (which I like just as much now as I did then): 

crockery                           mittens                        pieman                     crumpled

frocks                               supper                          butterbean               sarsaparilla

parasol                             fizzy                              crumpet                   cruffin

crescent                           crisp                             pipkin                        gossamer

thistledown                     agog                            tumble                      taffy

Weird, yes.  And is a cruffin an actual thing?  It just feels good rolling across my tongue.  Same thing with crumpled, but better because there’s that little bit of lip action involved when you say it aloud. 

When I get bored with flapjacks, there’s a variation that I like:  flapson jackson.  Pure silliness.  Or as I like to refer to some of my own less than stellar poems, sheer pottery.

Oh yeah, and I can’t stand supercalafragilisticexpialadocious (or however the hell it’s spelled).  Never did.  Freakin’ upstart of a word. 

So that’s all that’s fit (or unfit) to print on art or evidence? today.  Join me next time when I expound upon my primitive and visceral reaction to earwigs.

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About creat1ve11

psychotherapist by trade, writer and artist by temperament, over 50 and not fighting it, love the idea of snorting milk through my nose, but have never actually done it
This entry was posted in and everything, creativity, language, poetry, Reflecting, Uncategorized, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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