Word: Atelier

atelier

[at-l-yey, at-l-yey; French atuh-lyey]

noun, plural at·el·iers [at-l-yeyz, at-l-yeyz; French atuh-lyey] /ˈæt lˌyeɪz, ˌæt lˈyeɪz; French atəˈlyeɪ/.

1. a workshop or studio, especially of an artist, artisan, or designer.

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               “Oh my god, I can’t believe I never noticed this place!” Ben’s mom gushed as she perused the isles. 

               Ben could not care less.  He had been forced onto his mother’s shopping expedition, and was doing his very best to make his position clear by paying more attention to his phone than the displays.  The small building served as both workshop and store for various local artists, and was starting to gain popularity.  That is, popularity with parents.  People Ben’s age usually could not care less.

               “Oh, is that a new piece?” The woman exclaimed as she moved towards the rear of the building.

               She was suddenly engrossed by one of the artists currently working on a new piece of art that would inevitably make its way to the shelves.  Ben could do nothing but roll his eyes.  To him, watching some guy paint was one of the most boring things he could think of.  As such, he chose to wander, leaving his mom to watch the creation of art in progress.

               As he looked at the various paintings and sculptures on display, he found it.  The true jewel of the store.  The only real masterpiece he could see.  He slowly made his way towards the work of art.

               “Hey.” He said.

               The girl looked up from the tray of sculptures she had been methodically placing on a shelf.

               “Hey.” She replied, setting a piece of molded clay on the shelf.

               “I’m Ben, nice to meet you.”

               “Cindy.”

               “So, Cindy, you new in town?  Sorry, it’s just that I haven’t seen you in school or anything, and I think I’d notice someone like you.”

               She gave him a side smile at the awkward compliment, but stopped her task to face him.  “Yeah, we just moved here a week ago.  I’ll be starting school after winter break.”

               “Man, a week in and you already have a job.  That must suck.  Especially in a place like this.”

               “Oh, god, I know, right?  It’s so boring.  But my dad says I have to work somewhere, and since my mom’s an artist, she managed to get me in.”

               “Well, at least you have something nice to look at.  My job features selling food to fat people, so there’s a lot less to look at.”

               She winced at the implication.  “Oo, fast food?”

               “Let me just say this.  Have you seen the place at the corner of Main and Oak?”

               “Sure.  Haven’t gone there yet though.”

               “Don’t.” Ben said quickly.  “Avoid that place with everything you have.”

               A worried expression crossed her face.  “Is it really that bad?”

               “I once saw a mouse jump in the fryer while it was going.  The boss just scooped it out, and had the guy working it keep going.  And that’s not even the worst thing I’ve seen.”

               “Seriously?”

               “Only reason I haven’t reported it is because nobody would care.  Apparently, lots of people try and submit all the problems to headquarters, but nothing sticks.”

               “That sucks.  Well, look on the bright side.  At least it’s not boring.”

               “That’s true.”

               “So, now that fast food’s off the table, what other places around here are good?”

               “Oh, there’s plenty.  Maybe we can get together some time and I’ll show you around.  Not just the restaurants and stuff either, but everything.”

               She cradled her chin in her hand and made sounds like she was thinking.  “You know what, that sounds good.  Here, give me your phone.”

               Ben did so without hesitation.  Cindy tapped a few screens and entered her number in his contacts list.  She then handed him her phone, where he completed the exchange.  As soon as the phones were back with their respective owners, Cindy looked over his shoulder.

               “Ah, geeze, there’s my boss.” She said heavily.  “I’ve got to get back to work now, but it was nice meeting you.”

               “Yeah, same.  So, I’ll see you around?”

               “Yup.”

               “Great.  Later then.”

               As Ben walked away, he had to force himself not to start singing and dancing right then and there.  Maybe his mom was onto something with places like this. 

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Support the arts, even if you're not always interested in them.

Word: Sippet

      

sippet

[sip-it]

noun

1. a small bit; fragment.
2. a small piece of bread or the like for dipping in liquid food, as in gravy or milk; a small sop.
3. a crouton.

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        “How are you still eating?” Julie asked.  Her face was scrunched in disbelief as her boyfriend, Kyle, used a small piece of bread to sop up a shallow pool of gravy.

               “Easy, like this.” He said and popped the wet bread into his mouth.

               Julie just looked at him with her face still locked in disbelief at his seemingly bottomless stomach.

               “You’ve had three servings.  How are you not exploding?”

               He tore another small fragment of bread off the much larger whole and continued to mop up the remainder of the gravy.  With the plate now devoid of the thick grey liquid flavoring, Kyle extended his tongue and placed the gravy laden bread on it.  He slowly chewed and swallowed the morsel before saying anything.

               “Easy.  Did you see me eat anything else today?”

               Julie thought back to the previous hours of the day.  She had indeed not seen him eat so much as a crumb.  But that meant little, since she had not been constantly watching him.  But the fact remained that she had not seen him eating until dinner started.

               “Well, no, but…”

               “That’s because I didn’t.  I haven’t eaten anything today until now.”

               “Dare I ask why?”

               “So I can eat more now.”

               Julie hung her head with a long-suffering sigh.  Had it been anyone else, she would not have believed him.  But, since it was Kyle, it was entirely believable.  The man lived for such meals.  Every other day, he ate like a normal person.  But, whenever there was any kind of large or festive meal, he went all out.  And of course, Thanksgiving was the mother of all big meals.  Their relationship was still very new, but she had still learned enough about him that she knew that much.  It was still hard for her to watch though.

               With the gravy gone, Kyle’s next piece of bread went towards wiping up the dregs of cranberry sauce.  The now sticky bread was then used to dab up whatever crumbs, specks, and other miscellaneous bits of food and sauce remained on his plate.  The food sponge followed its brethren into his mouth.

               “Please tell me you’re done now.” Julie asked.

               Kyle swallowed and thought.  She desperately hoped he was finished.  He did not think she had it in her to watch him down another full plate of food.  It hurt her stomach just to watch, even after she had finished her one plate. 

               “Well, I suppose so.” He said.

               Julie let out a breath of relief.  At least he had some kind of limit.  If he gone for a fourth round, she might have to stop thinking of him as a person.  More like a black hole contained in human flesh.

               “Only for now though.  I mean, I do have to save some room for dessert.”

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Try not to eat too much on Thanksgiving.  You'll just end up paying for it later.  

Word: Catastrophize

  

catastrophize

[kuh-tas-truh-fahyz]

verb (used with or without object), ca·tas·tro·phized, ca·tas·tro·phiz·ing.

1. to view or talk about (an event or situation) as worse than it actually is, or as if it were a catastrophe: Stop catastrophizing and get on with your life! She tends to catastrophize her symptoms.

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            Dave lay on the couch with his laptop poised on his lap.  His eyes glazed over as he clicked to another page.  One of his sister’s, Kim, lay on the floor in a similar pose, but on her stomach with her computer in front of her.

               A flurry of footsteps echoed through the hall and their other sister, Molly, burst into the living room.  The teenager’s breathing was heavy, and her eyes were wide.  Her older siblings looked up from their respective devices to see what was the matter.

               She wore a dress that could best be described as slightly inappropriate, and her hair was allowed to hang loose, as apposed to the neat braid she normally wore. 

               “I’ve got a problem.” She said through heavy breaths.

               “What’s up?” Dave asked.

               “It’s horrible.  Terrible.  A disaster.” Molly continued. 

               Kim stood and examined the youngest of the three.  She gasped and held her hands over her mouth.

               “Oh you poor thing.  Are…are you alright?” She said as she moved around the couch to comfort Molly.

               “I…I think so.  I just…I just…”

               “What?  What’s wrong?” Dave asked.  He had no idea what was going on, but his brotherly instincts were telling him to either comfort her or make fun of her.  He just needed to know why first.

               “Are you blind?” Molly asked.  “It’s obvious.”

               Dave just shrugged.  She did not look hurt, and he had not heard anything break, nor had any phones rung.  It had to be something obvious, since Kim had spotted it right away.

               “Give me a hint?”

               “Oh don’t bother explaining it to him.” Kim said.  “He’s a guy.  He wouldn’t understand.” She shot the middle child a piercing glair as she spoke, as if his gender was some kind of affront to nature.  “Now come here, let’s see what we can do.”

               “Okay, now I’ve got to know.  What’s wrong?” Dave tried.

               Molly glowered at him and pointed to her hair.  It was not her usual style, but there was nothing wrong with it that he could see.

               “Your hair?”

               “Yes my hair.  My hair that’s completely messed up.  My hair that looks terrible.”

               “What?”

               “Like I said, he’s a guy.” Kim said.  “Don’t expect him to get it.”

               Dave hung his head and drew in a long, slow breath.  After 19 years of living with two sisters, he knew he should have been used to such things.  But somehow, they always managed to find new ways to be frustrating.

               “If it helps, I think your hair looks fine.” He tried.

               This just earned him cold stares from both his older and younger sisters.

               “This is why you don’t have a girlfriend.” Kim said.  “You just don’t get girls.”

               That one hurt.  His lack of a significant other had plagued him all throughout high school and into college.  He had simple not met the right girl yet, but his siblings refused to let him live it down.

               “Okay, what’s wrong with your hair?”

               “Everything!  Just look at it.” Molly practically shrieked.  

               Dave stood and moved to get a better look.  When he got closer, he did see a few strands that did not align perfectly with the others, and a few even fell in front of her face.  None of which should result in such a strong reaction from the two girls.

               “Okay, so you’ve got a few loose strands of hair.  Is it really that bad?”

               “Yes.” Kim said.

               “It’s terrible!” Molly wailed.

               Dave groaned inwardly.  Externally, he just looked at the two of them and the dead serious expressions both wore.

               “Okay, I’ll bite.  Why is it so bad?”

               “Because I’ve got a date tonight, and everything has to be perfect.” Molly said. 

               “First, does Dad know you have a date?  And second, why is it so important?”

               “Yes, he does.  I made sure to tell him and Mom.  And it has to be perfect because it does.”

               Dave blinked.  Kim nodded her agreement, leaving Dave baffled. 

               “Molly, may I offer some advice, as a guy?”  Molly motioned for him to continue.  “Don’t worry so much about your hair.  I don’t know who you’re going out with, but I guarantee he won’t be thinking about a few loose strands of hair.  Heck, in what you’re wearing, I’m pretty sure he won’t even be looking at your hair.  By the way, does Dad know you’re wearing that?”

               “No, he doesn’t, and you’d better not tell him.” Molly warned.  “And what makes you so sure?”

               “My years of experience being male has left me with unique insight into the male psyche.  And nowhere does it include ignoring, shunning, or insulting a girl in a much too tight dress because her hair isn’t 100% perfect.  Trust me.”

               Molly looked to Kim for confirmation.  The eldest sibling thought about it and shrugged.

               “Maybe he has a point?” She admitted.  “But still, just in case he’s wrong, let’s go fix you up a bit, okay?”

               Molly nodded and the two left to fix Molly’s hair.  Dave sighed and slumped back onto the couch, still confused by what had just happened.  It left him with a single thought.  A thought he had not truly felt since he was six:

               “Girls are weird.”   

               ************************************

Truth be told, I have no idea if girls actually pay this much attention to hair.  All I have to work with is TV and movies, which are admittedly not the most reliable methods of learning such behaviors.  I mean, I have a sister, but she never really fussed over her hair to this extent, and if she did, I never saw signs of it.