Word: Aver

 

aver

[ uh-vur ]

 

verb (used with object), a·verred, a·ver·ring.

1. to assert or affirm with confidence; declare in a positive or peremptory manner.

2. Law. to allege as a fact.

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Ted’s hands were sweaty as he ate. His heart beat fast and he felt sweat drip down the back of his shirt. His announcement would probably not go over well. Not in this household. But it needed to be done. And he needed to say his peace with as much confidence as he could muster. That was not a whole lot, but it would have to do.

His family were focused on their meal. Dad had managed to catch a deer, which was now serving as their dinner. Better than the squirrel casserole they had eaten last week, that was for sure. The slabs of venison meant that they were not focused on him, giving him time to bury his nervousness as deep as he possibly could.

               When dinner was coming to a close, he knew it was time. Or at least, the moment was as good as he could ever make it.

               “Everyone, I’ve got something to say.” He said, sitting up straight and trying not to show how he felt.

               Mom was the first to respond. “What is it, Teddy?” She asked as she started to clean the table, along with his little sister.

               Ted took a deep breath. “Mom, Dad, I know how you two feel about me and how I live my life. I know you both want me to live my life good and well and all that. And that you two have a lot of ideas about how that should happen.” This next part was the big one. He mustered up everything he could. “Well, I’m going to tell you now that all those plans aren’t for me. I’m going to go to college. I’m going to get an education and make something bigger of myself.”

               And with that, it was done. The announcement made, and the news delivered. Now he just needed to deal with the fallout. His parents were silent as they contemplated what they had just been told. Little sister Took the opportunity to bow out. She would stay near though, watching and listening. She would likely use this conversation to dump on him later.

               “No.” Dad said simply.

               “Dad?”

               “I said no. I’m not going to let my son be brainwashed in one of those so called placed of ‘higher learning’. You go to one of those places, and you’ll come back gay or something.”

               “Okay, first of all, I’m definitely not gay. Second, so what if I was? And college doesn’t change people’s preference for romantic partners. It’s about education. About getting life experiences and getting a leg up in the job market. I’ll be able to get a better job and really make my way in life.”

               “You don’t need it.” Dad said. “It’s a waste of time and money, and won’t get you anything you don’t already have. You’re going to follow in my footsteps anyway. Being a builder is a good, respectable job and our family has been doing it for generations.”

               “Well maybe I don’t want to be a builder. Maybe I want to design the building. Maybe I want to be the one the building is for. Maybe I don’t want to break my back for minimum wage.”

               Dad slammed his hand on the table. He finally looked Ted in the eye. “I. Said. No. No son of mine is going to sit behind a desk for the rest of his life. That’s all college will lead to. That’s my say, and that’s final.”

               “I’ve already submitted my applications.” Ted said. “And If I’m accepted, I will be going. I don’t even need your help paying for it. I’ve got a dozen scholarships lined up. I’ve been saving all the money I’ve earned since I got a job. I will go to college.”

               “You’re my son and you will do what I tell you to.” Dad said. He spoke not in a yell, but in a low growl. That was far worse than had he yelled. “And I’m telling you that you will not go to college.”

               Ted leaned forward, trying to get the knots in his gut to untangle. “Yes. Yes I will. And if you try and stop me, well, I’m not sure what I’ll do, but I guarantee you’ll like it a lot less than a few years of education.”

               The two of them stared at each other. Neither willing to give ground. At least, that’s what Ted hoped he looked like. He certainly did not feel as confident as he tried to act. The staring contest was broken when Mom came into the picture. She did it by slamming a bowl of bread pudding down on the table between them.

               “Now, now, there’s no need to be up in arms over this. We can talk about it later. For now, I’ve got dessert all set. It’d be terrible if it was spoiled by bad blood between family, right?”

               Both of the men grumbled something like an agreement. Dad leaned back and crossed his arms, avoiding eye contact with everyone else. Ted sat bolt upright and gripped the side of his chair with a white knuckle grip. His continued to look calm and composed, but his mind was roiling with what had just happened.

               All in all, it went better than he had expected it to.

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Getting an education is important. College might not be for everyone, but there's lots of other ways of learning out there.

Word: Sidh

 

sídh

or shee

[ shee ]

 noun, plural sídhe [shee]. Irish Folklore.

1. a mound or hill in which fairies live.

2. a fairy.

3.sídhe, the race of fairies.

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               Two people walked up onto the hill. One was a man in his 30s, the other a boy not even ten. The man carried a large cooler at his side, while the boy awkwardly carried a smaller one. The two of them got to the top of the hill and the man set his load down, taking a moment to look at the field, one of the few places in Ireland that had not seen the touch of industrialization. His boy stood by his father’s side, looking at the rolling grass, but found little of interest in it.

               The man placed a hand on his son’s head, then got to work, setting out a blanket to lay on and food for their picnic. The boy watched eagerly at the array of food, until the man did something odd. He took two wooden bowls, one was filled with honey, and the other his poured a bit of cream into. Then he set them aside, off the blanket.

               “Dad? What’re those for?”

               “Those are gifts, son. Gifts for our hosts.”

               The boy scrunched his nose and looked around again. There was nobody around, and certainly no buildings. He looked up at his father as the man finished unloading the food.

               “Son, do ya know what kind of hill we’re on?” The man asked, instead of answering the boy’s unspoken question. The boy shook his head. “This is a very special place. The kind of place that’s getting’ rarer and rarer these days. This is a place where fairies live.”

               The boy’s eyes opened wide and he sucked in a long breath. “Fairies? Really?”

               “Oh, aye. They live all around here. And since we’re trespassen’ on their land, it’s only polite to leave somethin’ for ‘em. To show we don’t mean any harm.”

               “Will the fairies be eatin’ with us then?”

               “No, son, they won’t. They’ll come out when we’re done and gone. They don’t much like bein’ seen by us men. So, they’ll stay hidden wherever it is fairies hide until they know we can’t see ‘em.”

               “Have you ever seen one?”

               “No, of course not. I just told you they don’t like to be seen.” The man said like a slight laugh. “But I know they’re there. Come up here enough and you learn to feel ‘em. Tell they’re around, even if you don’t know where they are. Now come on, let’s eat up. Anything you don’t eat, we can leave as more gifts. If not for the fairies, then the other animals that call this place home.”

               The two sat and ate. The father told his son the tales of the fae, and the boy eagerly listened, young eyes shining with joy with each story his father told him. Sometimes the man would pause and close his eyes, taking a deep breath. He said that was when a fairy was watching closely, although remained hidden.

               When they were done, they packed up everything they could. The man set out a small bolt of cloth and placed a small pile of leftovers on it. The two then left the hill with a much lighter load. When they were out of sight, a tiny head, smaller than the boy’s hand, popped out of the grass. The figure carefully watched the direction the two humans had left. When the being was sure he was alone, he bowed slightly in the father’s direction. Then he sat and began to eat the offerings. It was good to know that humans had not completely abandoned the fairies. 

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Remember, if you suspect there's fairies about, treat them nicely. For one thing, it's just the polite thing to do. For a second, fairies are not always friendly creatures, so it's best to stay on their good side whenever possible. 

Word: Epicurean

 

epicurean

[ ep-i-kyoo-ree-uhn, -kyoor-ee- ]

Primary meanings of epicurean

adjective

1. fond of or adapted to luxury or indulgence in sensual pleasures; having luxurious tastes or habits, especially in eating and drinking.

2. fit for an epicure: epicurean delicacies.

(initial capital letter) of, relating to, or characteristic of Epicurus or Epicureanism.

noun

3. an epicure.

4. (initial capital letter) a disciple of Epicurus.

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               Richard was used to the finer things in life. His family’s small getaway house was larger than most people’s primary residences. He always owned the latest and greatest of whatever he wanted. He ate at the finest restaurants in the world. Even at home, he ate only the finest of meals, due to his family’s head chef having a Micheline Star. He knew good things in life. And what he was looking at was not it.

               The plate in front of him was covered with something that could loosely be called food. It was some kind of chunked meat in a sauce that had probably come from a jar. There was a pile of something that could be identified as vegetables, although with how limp and soggy everything was, it was hard to tell what kind. Just about the only thing he could identify with some certainty was the pile of mashed potatoes. And eve those had odd dark flakes and lumps in them.

               He looked at the family around him. They belonged to his girlfriend, Lisa. She was a beautiful girl, who looked like she came from a standard of living closer to his. Now, seeing her laugh with people who probably made less than 50 grand a year, it was obvious that he had been mistaken. At least they seemed…nice.

               They occasionally asked him questions, and he answered them as politely as he could. Even Lisa’s father seemed to generally accept him, even though he was dating the man’s daughter. But they were barely middle class at best. The tableware was cheap plastic, the décor had probably came from many garage sales, and they wore outfits that looked like they came from a bin.

               “Hey, Rich.” Lisa said, leaning close and talking softly. “You should eat before it gets cold.”

               “Oh, uh, right. Sure. I’ll just take a bite and…”

               “Oh don’t be like that. I know it doesn’t look like what you’re used to, but it’s good, I promise. Besides, Mom worked hard on it, so not eating it would upset her.”

               Richard made a non-committal grunt. The last thing he wanted was to upset Lisa’s parents. She might come from a lower class, but he did like her. So, he sucked it up, speared a chunk of meat and, after only a moment’s hesitation, put it in his mouth.

               He froze, fork still in his mouth, morsel of food resting on his tongue. It was indeed very good. Much better than it looked. But that was not what caused his hesitation. In terms of pure taste, he had had better. But there was something about this food. A quality that nothing else he had ever eaten had possessed. Something he could not quite put into words. But whatever it was added a depth to the meal. It made the flavors stand out more, making it seem far better than it was. And considering that it was worthy of a respectable restaurant, that meant something.

               He slowly chewed and swallowed before tasting the potatoes and vegetables. They possessed the same quality and depth of flavor that the meat had. Richard was momentarily lost in the food, letting the conversation wash over him. And then something happened. He did not know when, but he found himself laughing with the others. He found himself enjoying their company much more than he had. It was like the food had unlocked a door he had not even known existed.

               And in that moment, the finer things in life did not seem so fine anymore.

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Good food just makes things better, doesn't it? Always be sure to enjoy your meals, even if they aren't the best in the world.