Word: Fussbudget

 

fussbudget

\ FUHS-buhj-it \  , noun;

1. a fussy or needlessly fault-finding person.

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Eva furiously scrambled around the room, looking at every single minute detail on every single table.  She eyed the decor with an eye that combined a military drill sergeant and a ferret scrambling around a room. 

               “Would you calm down already?  Everything’s fine.”  Peter said as he watched he fiance check the room yet again.

               “No no, everything’s not fine.  I can feel it.”  Eva said.  Her panic colored her words as she examined the placement of another center piece, making sure it was in the exact center of the large, round table.

               “Yes, it is.  How many times have you been through the room?  Five?  Ten?  Trust me, if you haven’t found anything wrong yet, you’re probably not going to this time either.”

               “There’s something I missed.  I know it, I can feel it and…What’s this?”  She said, going over to another table.  She examined the centerpiece like a detective pouring over an obscure piece of evidence.  “Ah ah, see?  See, I knew it.  I just knew there was something wrong.”

               Peter rolled his eyes and joined Eva at the table.  He looked at the elaborate bouquet with a somewhat less critical eye than she was.  He found nothing wanting with it.

               “It’s exactly like every other one here.”

               “No no, no it’s not.  There’s one flower missing.”  She said.  She furiously pointed to a cluster of small, white flowers on the side of the arrangement.  Peter looked alternately at Eva and the flowers, then let out a sigh.

               “So what if there is?  It’s not like anyone else will notice.”

               “I’ll notice.”  She said, looking at Peter with a worried expression.

               “No, you won’t.  Trust me.  Once things get underway, you’ll forget all about the flower.  Besides, how do you even know there’s one missing?  It’s not like you’ve counted every single flower in every single centerpiece.  I bet they all have different numbers anyway.  Maybe if it was a rose or a lily or something big, but not one of the little ones.”  He placed a hand reassuringly on her shoulder and gently guided her away from the tables. 

               “No, no, I’m sure someone will notice.  I don’t know who, but someone will.”

               “Honey, honey, calm down a bit.  You’re turning into one of those women on TV.”

               “What?”  She asked.  Her expression changed instantly from one of worry to one of confusion.

               “It’s a show some of the ladies at the office watch.  It’s called, um, well I don’t remember what it’s called.  But it’s about these women who go crazy about their weddings.  I sometimes see a few minutes of it in the break room and usually get a good laugh out of it. But now you’re one of them.”

               “No I’m not.”  She said defensively. 

               “I could call up the TV station right now, and you’d fit right in.  I bet if we recreated some of the planning process you could even get on it.  Well, I mean, we’d have to fake a lot more shouting and stuff, but still.”

               Eva paused for a moment before responding.  Peter could practically hear her thought process as she went through not just the day’s events, but everything else involved as well.

               “Oh.  Oh wow.  You’re right.  You are absolutely right.”  She said.  Eva slumped down in the nearest chair.  “I don’t believe it, but I’ve gone crazy over this.  I mean seriously, what was I thinking?  I’m over here fussing over a missing flower.”

               “Hey, it could’ve been worse.”  Peter said as he sat down next to her.

               “How?”

               “You could’ve gotten out a measuring tape.  That would’ve been bad.”  He said.  Eva tried to suppress a chuckle, but didn’t quite succeed.  “Maybe you could’ve also gotten out one of those light measuring things from the photographers and made sure all the lighting was exact.” 

               “Ok, ok I get it.”  She said.  “Still, you can’t blame me for wanting everything to be perfect, can you?”

               “No, I suppose not.  It is something that only happens once, right?”

               “Yeah.”  She said wistfully.  “We hope.”

               Peter’s head darted over to look at Eva.  Those two words suddenly sent him into panic mode.  That is, until he saw the wry grin on her face.  He smiled and sat back in the chair.

               “We hope.”

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Not sure what to say about this one really.  Wait, I think...oh, nope, I lost it, sorry.  Oh well, maybe next time.

Word: Venerable

venerable

\ VEN-er-uh-buhl \  , adjective;

1. commanding respect because of great age or impressive dignity; worthy of veneration or reverence, as because of high office or noble character: a venerable member of Congress

2. a title for someone proclaimed by the Roman Catholic Church to have attained the first degree of sanctity or of an Anglican archdeacon.

3. (of places, buildings, etc.) hallowed by religious, historic, or other lofty associations: the venerable halls of the abbey.

4. impressive or interesting because of age, antique appearance, etc.: a venerable oak tree.

5. extremely old or obsolete; ancient: a venerable automobile.

noun:

1. a venerable person.

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The venerable old clock tower rose majestically into the sky, casting a long shadow in the late afternoon sun.  Ivy and moss clung to the old stone at the bottom of the building.  The wrought iron hands, still active even after so many long centuries of use, moved slowly as time passed. 

               “So, kids, what do you think?”  Henry asked his two sons.

               “Meh.”  Said Jake, the older boy.

               “It’s a building.”  Said Leon, the younger.  Both boys looked at the tower for a moment before turning their attention back to their phones.

               “It’s not just a building.  It’s a clock tower that’s stood since this city was founded over two hundred years ago.  Think of all it’s seen in that time.”

               “Buildings don’t see stuff, dad.  They’re buildings.”  Said Leon without looking up. 

               Henry sighed.  His kids were completely missing the point of the vacation.  He had intended them to experience things from the past without seeing them on a screen.  Get a sense of what used to be.  They were having none of it.

               “But think of all the history that this building has been through.  All the people who’ve walked through it.  Tended it.  Made it work even to this day.”  He tried.

               “History sucks.”  Jake said. 

               “What?  How can you say that?”

               “Because it does.  It’s a boring class.”  The boy said without any enthusiasm.  Henry wanted to forcefully remove the phones from his kids hands, but that would probably make them even less cooperative than they already were.

               “This isn’t a class, Jake.  We’re here, right now.  Seeing where all kinds of cool things happened with our own eyes.”  Henry said, trying to make it sound interesting.  Jake slowly looked up, blinked, and then looked back down at the screen.

               “Meh.”  He said again.

               “That’s all you can say?  Meh?  Just think of it all.  Let’s see, where’s that guide book?”  Henry dug through his backpack, trying to find the tourist’s guide to find out something about the tower that would interest the boys.  “Ah, here it is.”  He said once he found it.  “Let’s see what it says.”  He looked through the book until he found the entry on the clock tower and started reading.  He tried to make it sound interesting, but when he saw his sons weren’t paying any attention, he stopped.

               “Look boys, I’m trying to show you something that really happened.  Why don’t you put those phones away and at least pretend you’re interested?”

               “Cause this sucks.”  Jake said.

               “Yeah, old stuff is lame.”  Leon followed up.  “New stuff is better.”

               “How can you say that?”  Henry asked.  He was horrified at the attitude his children were displaying.  “Just because it’s old, doesn’t make it any worse.  In fact, a lot of it is actually better than what’s made now.”

               “Yeah, right dad.”  Leon said.  “What’s so great about this old stuff?  It doesn’t even do anything cool.”

               “Well, this tower tells time very reliably, for one thing.”

               “So does my phone.”

               “Your phone won’t work in a few years.  This tower will keep on working for decades.  Maybe even centuries.  Old things like this tower here were really made to last.  Those toys you’re holding were not.”

               “Cause something better’ll come out next year.  Then these phones will be lame too.”  Leon said, quite sure of his words.  Jake nodded in agreement.  Henry held his head in his hands.  He wasn’t getting through to them like this.  He could try and argue until the sun went down, and it would do nothing but waste all of their time.  He needed to do something though.  Maybe something else would spark their interest. 

               He looked through the guide book again for something interesting.  The clock tower had a long and distinguished history, but that wasn’t enough.  They needed something else.  Something involving a war or a battle or some such would probably work.  As he looked through the book, he found just that.  A museum dedicated to a battle that happened nearby during the Civil War.  That would probably work.  And it even had an entry on the clock tower, which seemed to have played a part in said battle. 

               “Alright boys, you don’t care about this clock tower, but how about seeing some things from a real life battle?”  He said.  Leon looked up from the phone and Jake’s eyes slid away from the screen, even if his head didn’t.  He had gotten their interest at last.

               “What kind of stuff?”  Leon asked.

               “I don’t know yet.  Probably lots of guns and cannons and such.  Oh, wait it’s all old weapons.  You two probably won’ be interested.  I guess I’ll just go and take you back to the hotel.  You two can play on the computer while I go look at all the old stuff.”

               “Well, maybe we could go.  I mean, just this once.”  Jake said as he finally put his phone away.  “Just to see how it stacks up to games and stuff.”

               “Yeah, I mean, it’ll probably be really dumb, but I guess it can’t hurt.”

               “All right, if you two really want to go, then let’s go.”

               Henry turned and headed back to the car with his kids following behind.  He smiled to himself as he walked.  He had finally won.  It was a small victory, to be sure, but it was a victory none the less.  He might even be able to get them at least a little interested in the past.  At the very least, he could start to change their opinions about older things.  It was a long shot, but it would be worth it if it worked.  Henry just hoped they wouldn’t make too much of a fuss when they found out where they were really going.  

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Newer is not necessarily superior, and older is not necessarily inferior.  Of course the opposite also holds true, in that older isn't always better, and newer isn't always worse.  But looking around these days, you see lots of people believing that newer is either better or worse, depending on the age group.  I guess it's just a result of the times people are brought up in. 

Word: fervent

 

fervent

\ FUR-vuhnt \  , adjective;

1. having or showing great warmth or intensity of spirit, feeling, enthusiasm, etc.; ardent: a fervent admirer; a fervent plea.

2. hot; burning; glowing.

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Grena fervently held the small golden bottle and reached through it to the realm of the gods.  Many eyes watched intently as she mentally called out to Inris, the God of Magic.  She had been chosen by the High Magister himself to be the first person to use the reenchanted bottle, so she couldn’t disappoint them.  The eyes of the Master Enchanter, the High Magister, and the five Magisters bored into her.  So, she was very happy when it didn’t take all that long for the bottle to become active. 

               A violet and blue glow appeared at the mouth of the bottle, showing the magic was taking effect.  Almost immediately afterwards, Grena felt something.  A presence echoing in her mind.  It was actually quite comforting, not overwhelming like one would expect from a god.

               “Greetings.”  The presence said.  The voice was also quite ordinary.  In fact, it reminded her a great deal of her grandfather.

               “H-hello.”  She thought, “You are Lord Inris, aren’t you?” 

               “Indeed.  And you are.  Hmm, let me see.  Ah yes, I remember you.”  Said the deity.

                “Y-you do?”  Grena asked.  She couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride from that.  It wasn’t everybody who could claim that a god knew of them.

               “Yes. It’s very rare that someone outside the priesthood requests power you know.”  Inris said jovially.  Grena felt a shudder running through her spine.  She keenly remembered that incident as well.

               “You’re not upset about that, are you?”

               “Oh no, of course not.  In fact, I quite liked the attempt.  It’s why I gave you as much as I did.”

               “Ah.  Well, thank you for that.”  She breathed a quite sigh of relief and did her best to ignore the quizzical looks of her mortal audience.

               “Of course.  Now though, you quite pleased me with this little idea of yours as well.  The item you’re holding was until recently a cursed item, for obvious reasons.  You’re the first one to ever think of turning it into a holy one though.  It quite impressed not only me, but all of us.”

               “Even though I wasn’t a part of the altering?”

               “Unimportant.  The mages would have destroyed it.  Honestly, most of us were hoping for that.  The idea came from you.  Ah, but once we’re done here, you can inform those who did the work I am quite pleased with them as well.”

               “I’ll tell them.”

               “Good. Now then, to business.  Part of the enchantment on the bottle now is that of a contract.  And, I have just the thing.”

               “What is it?”

               “You remember the man who hired you and your party to acquire this item?”

               “Of course.  Disturbing man.”

               “There’s a reason for that.  He’s a spell caster as well, and not a very nice one.  He is conducting experiments to warp and distort magic.  His taint is spreading distressingly quickly.  I am charging you with the task of eliminating these experiments.  I don’t care what you do with him, but the experiments must go.”

               “It shall be done.”  Grena said.  “Although it may take some time.”  She did have to rendezvous with her party after all.

               “Irrelevant.  As long as it gets done.”

               “Very well.  Now, this will not be done for free.  In fact, I already know exactly what you’re reward shall be.”

               Grena said nothing.  She was just happy to be talking with a god.  The idea of what the god of magic would give her was an amazing thing to think about.

               “I have two spells in mind.  One is one you will enjoy, and another that many will be grateful for.  Have you ever heard of a specter?”

               “I have.  It’s a kind of perfect ghost.  Supposedly, it can look like anything, have any kind of personality, and I’ve once heard it can even be given spells.  But nobody’s ever been able to create one.  It’s only a dream right now.”

               “All that is true.  And it’s only a dream right now.  I can give you the means of creating one.”

               “R-really?”  Grena asked, getting more excited than she liked to admit.  She had always wanted to create a ghost, and now she was being told that she’d create something even better?  It was a dream come true.

               “Yes, really.  Now, for the other spell, I believe the art of true healing will suffice?”

               “Healing?  But that’s already known.”

               “To an extent.  Although with your current knowledge it is limited.  Priests of Lethon heal by using the goddess’s power.  Spellslingers do so by sacrificing their own life.  With this spell, that will not be so.  This spell can change magical power into life itself, allowing one to heal any wound or illness without sacrifice, provided you have to power to do so.”

               “I see.”  Grena said.  She had never considered being a healer before because of the cost involved.  With known spells, the caster transferred his life energy to the wounded.  It did a great job of healing, but reduced the lifespan of the caster.  Needless to say, not many spellslingers chose to become healers.  “That would be amazing.”  She said.

               “Indeed.  Now then, I am placing a few things into the bottle for your use.  The spells I’m giving you for one.  You will be able to use them, but they won’t be yours until you finish the task.  I will also give you some power to use.  It is limited, but if you use it wisely, it should suffice.”

               “I understand.”  It was taking all her willpower not to jump around the room in excitement. “Is that all you wish, Lord?”

               “I believe so.  Although, I would prefer you hold on to the bottle until your task is finished.  It passing into the hands of another shouldn’t disrupt the contract, but it might pose some other problems.”

               “Understood.” 

               “Good.  Now then, I must leave you to your task.  I have some other things I need to take care of.”

               No sooner had the words been spoken than the presence in her mind disappeared.  Grena placed the small bottle around her neck.  As soon as she did, her mind was filled with new knowledge of spells she had never even dreamed possible.  It was akin to reading them in a book, but they were there. 

               “Well, how did it go?”  Asked one of the Magisters.  Grena blinked, smiled, and told them everything.  

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Where will this lead?  Who knows.  I have a few ideas, but not that many.  It should be interesting though.  At least, I hope so.