Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Word: rusticate



        

rusticate

\ RUHS-ti-keyt \  , verb;
1. to go to the country.
2. to stay or sojourn in the country.
3. to send to or domicile in the country.
4. to make rustic, as persons or manners.
5. to finish (a wall surface) so as to produce or suggestrustication.
6. British . to suspend (a student) from a university as punishment.

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                “Ready to go kids?” Dave called up to his two children.
                “No.”  Called down the older one, Dan. 
                “Same.”  Replied the younger, Sally.  Dave sighed at their mutual response.
                “Well why not?  We want to leave pretty soon so we get there when it’s still light out.”
                “Because we don’t want to go.”  Said Dan.  The teen emerged from his room and hung over the banister.
                “What?  Why?  You love going to your grandparent’s house.”  Dave said.
                “Yeah, when we were, like, six.  And that was only because we didn’t know how much it sucked.” 
                The words of his son stung.  Dave still had fond memories of how his kids used to drag him and his wife, Lora, out of bed whenever a trip to his parent’s house was planed. 
                “Yeah, seriously, Dad.”  Sally said, joining her brother at the banister.  “I mean, they don’t even get cell service way out there.”
                “Yeah, what’re we supposed to do?  No internet, no phones, not even TV.  It’s like living in the stone ages or something.”  Dan agreed.
                “Well, you two could go and see the animals?  Remember that?  Sally, you used to love riding the horses.”
                “Yeah, used to.”  She replied bluntly.  “Why would I want to ride one of those big, smelly things now?  Anyway, they’re not even grandma and grandpas.  They belong to some other guy who charges for that stuff.  That just makes it worse.”
                “Why should that matter?  Anyway, the owner takes good care of his animals, and they certainly don’t smell all that bad.”  Dave said.
                “So?  I still don’t want to ride one.”  Sally said, leaning against the wall behind her.
                “Well, there’s still things you can do.”
                “Like what?”  Dan asked.
                “Well, you can go swimming in the pond.  You can go hiking.  You can even just sit around and read.”
                Looks of horror crossed both teen’s faces at the mention of reading. 
                “Hold on, you said we didn’t have to worry about doing school work there.”  Dan said.
                “What does school have to do with reading?” Dave asked.
                “It’s reading.”  Dan said, as if that explained everything.
                “You know, there are books that have nothing to do with school.  Those are usually read for fun.”
                Dan and Sally looked at each other. Dave sighed.  It was his failing that the concept of reading for enjoyment was so lost on them.  He wasn’t sure if he was too late to correct that, but he could at least try.
                “Why?”  Sally asked.
                “Yeah, really.” Dan followed.  ”Why would anyone read a book for fun when there’s so much better stuff to do?”
                “That is what people tend to do out in the country.”
                “One more reason not to go.”
                “Well, too bad.  You two are coming.”
                “Hey, Dad,”  Dan said, “You know I’m almost eighteen, right?  So why not just let the two of us stay home for the weekend?  I mean, I should be ok to keep things in line, right?” 
                Sally turned from her brother to her father.  Hope shone in both their eyes.  Dave just looked at them.  He only needed a moment to come to the decision. 
                “No, that’s not happening.  Now get ready, both of you.  You’re coming, and that’s final.”
                Both siblings groaned in that unique way only annoyed teenagers can do.  They both slunk back to their rooms to throw something into suitcases for the trip.  Dave was sure they’d be ok.  After all, it was only a two days in a country house.  How bad could it be?     
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I'm sure there are many a parent out there who know what this feels like.  And that exact sound only those in their teens can make.  I'm not sure what that is, but once a person gets old enough, they seem to lose the ability to make that sound.  I wonder why...

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