Odd British Vocab: Veruca.

This summer, the one (half British) (half Sudanese) sister of my one (half British) (half Sudanese) friend, who now is also my friend, was telling me how her boyfriend had gotten Athlete’s Foot all up his legs.

Then, I traded off a story of someone I know who got a wart at the gym from walking around in the shower without sandals, and when he went to the doctor's to get it taken out, it just went down and down into his foot, and they had to remove a chunk the size of a small walnut from his foot and there now was this big pit at the side of his sole.

“Oh,” she was like, “We call them verucas.”

At that, I suddenly realized that the “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” character Veruca Salt was probably named after that, and asked her if that’s what she thought was the case.

“Oh, definitely,” she was like.

(I wonder now if "veruca salt" is a remedy against verucas, like salt you put on canker sores?)

Dreams I’ve had lately (2 of 2): Guest at my parents’ house.

A guest is at my parents’ house – it’s Benedict, the Pope emeritus, in a white cassock, and though he still seems old, his face is fuller and more at peace.

We go out onto the lake, and where shallow water was with sand just beneath it, a recent storm made small islands just barely rising above the surface, and the Pope walks around on them happily.

At other places sand is closer to the surface than it’s ever been, forming ridges that pointedly crest just inches below the surface, and I can see them catching ripply sun beneath the waves.

As we go around to the other section of the lake, there’s makeshift earthen dams, and the water has been drained out and you can see over 1,000 feet down into this huge pit, into what had been the deepest part of the lake, to rough terraces of upturned earth where men are working at something by wooden barriers made of long logs stacked lengthwise.

. . .

(The day before I had this dream I was by the lake in the city, and the way the sun hit the water, sand was practically glowing beneath the waves in certain parts…  There was also that storm recently at my parents’ house that caused a lot of tree damage and whatnot.)

Dreams I’ve had lately (1 of 2): Answering machine.

I check an answering machine and it’s full of message after message about repairing cars, just one message about a car, then beep, another message about a car, then beep, then another message about a car, just message after message like that.

I then realize that those messages are all for my brother, and he’s doing that to make money since he’s between jobs.

Storm at my parents’ house.

A few weeks ago a major storm hit near my parents’ house and downed not only a lot of trees, but also the odd flagpole at the point that a weird guy from downstate with a summer place had put up last year (he bought this piece of land that you can't build on and everyone would always swim to and use, then he put up a flagpole and "No Trespassing" signs, like a big weird "fuck you" to everyone else).

When I had been there over Labor Day, me and my mom went to a neighbor’s 60^th birthday party, for  our neighbor the judge’s husband, who along with my dad really really hates that flagpole.

So, I told him that my original plan was to swim over the night before and put up boxer shorts on the flagpole as a birthday present, but my parents had discouraged me b/c I’d get in trouble with the law.

Then, after the storm, it turns out that our neighbor the judge's husband was over at the house when my mom was on the phone telling me about how bad the wind damage was, and how it had even downed the flagpole.

“Tell [our neighbor the judge's husband's first name] that God sent him a belated birthday present!”, I told my mom.

“I will,” she was like.

Addendum.

Also, the last time I was picking up trash in the park, as I went to throw a bag out, this (middle-aged) happy-looking (Chinese) woman holding the hand of a small child cried out to me, “Thank you so much for doing that!” in accented English.

I then made smalltalk about how nice the park was, and why not pick up trash if you were walking around in it.

Secretly, I was thinking how nice it was to see a Chinese immigrant display American values.

Inherited compulsiveness: Lists.

When I visited my hometown over Labor Day, my mom and I walked some trails, and we even picked up trash along them, which she’s done for years now.

When we got home, she then showed me a list she kept on the side of the fridge, marking how many bags of trash she’d picked up over the years and during what season.

So, when I got back to the city, I started up a retroactive list of the trash I’d picked up from the local quarry park, since I knew I had pulled out like 6 bags on earlier trips (I’m up to 14 now).

Overall in terms of lists, that now makes lists of new bars in city limits, lists of books I read for recreation, lists of movies I watch on the big-screen, lists of live classical music performances, and lists of live operas I've attended.

Playing with my friend’s baby daughter: Baby talk!.

My one friend who runs an integrated homelessness / domestic violence shelter has a 14 month old daughter, and I always try to be very feminist with the baby.

Like a month ago when I saw her, I would go up to play with her and start saying in a playing-with-babies voice, “Who’s beautiful but doesn’t let her self-worth be determined by others?  Who's beautiful but doesn't let her self-worth be determined by others?”.

At that, her mom, who has studied social psychology, started saying, “Who’s got a strong inner locus?  Who’s got a strong inner locus?”.

Then, turning to me, she was like, “Christ, my kid is going to be so weird.”