dactyl

OK, it’s still dark, just grover and me up at the moment. Up a bit late too, having found that turning out the light on Almustafa at seven-thirty and being wakened by the Call of the Wild at eleven-fifty-seven allows second-sleep until four-oh-eight. Which is late. 

Nothing helps back pain like time on the treadmill holding on and leaning way back to face the ceiling with eyes closed while walking on the beach. Next, glider chair and glider ottoman, black coffee and plain non-fat greek yogurt dribbled with balsamico. Who doesn’t like green eggs and ham won’t like this breakfast either.

Meanwhile the word is not easily woven into my morning post, but it does teach something about dinosaurs, at least about πτεροδάκτυλος the pterodactyl, meaning of course, “winged fingers.”

Arising this morning, it seemed too late to sit down, type and post my nonsense before someone called 911 and sent the EMTs. So the thought was to just copy and paste last Sunday’s sermon. It was by definition sermon, not homily. Homily is not a sophisticated, catholic word for “short sermon” as many innocent Epsicalopian priests seem to think. A homily is a brief commentary and lesson from the Scripture that was just read. A sermon can be a talk about anything, long or short. But now there’s not even time to copy and paste my sermon.

Meantime, the word is dactylography, obviously from finger-writing. Related to dactylology, which we sat behind at diocesan convention last week. 

Wake up, grover.

TW