Word:mellifluous

mellifluous

adjective

1. sweetly or smoothly flowing; sweet-sounding:

a mellifluous voice; mellifluous tones.

2. flowing with honey; sweetened with or as if with honey.

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Nikkei let the thick, sweet honey slide down her throat.  She licked her lips, savoring the smooth, thick syrup. 

                “So, how is it?”  Danny asked.  He was leaning forward in his seat hopefully.

                “It’s really good.  Complex.  Where’d you get it?”  Nikkei replied. 

                “Right outside.”

                “Wait, what?  What do you mean outside?  Like, an outdoor farmers market or something?”

                “Nope, I mean right outside in my back yard.”

                “Huh?  How’d you manage that?”

                “Easy.”  Danny puffed his chest out proudly as he spoke.  “I read up on beekeeping online, and I built a few beehives out back.  I got a smoker of bee hives, found a few wild hives, and moved them to mine.  Then I planted a bunch of different kinds of flowers and other plants.  I’ve got fruit, veggies, flowers, and a bunch of other stuff back there.  The bees seem to like it, and I get some pretty good honey out of it.  I mean, yeah, I have three small hives right now, so I don’t get a lot of honey yet, but there’ll be more later.”

                “Wow, seriously?  Isn’t that kind of problematic?  I mean, to have all those bees around…”

                “Actually no, not really.  They’re honey bees, so they’re pretty docile.  As long as I don’t bother them while they’re out doing their thing it’s fine.  And I’ve been pretty careful when I’m collecting as well.  I haven’t been stung once.”

                “Do you have a bee suit or something?”

                “Not yet, no.  I just wear heavy clothes and a mask and stuff, and it seems to work.”

                “Well, if you say so.”  She said.  She was clearly not as sure about the whole thing as Danny was, but she let it slide.

                “So, what’re you going to do with the honey?  With only three hives you won’t have enough to sell or anything.”

                “Well, for now I’m just going to use it for myself.  You know, use it to make honey stuff and as a sweetener and stuff.  But I’m also trying something that I think is pretty cool.”

                “What is it?”  Nikkei asked, somewhat hesitantly.

                “Well, first I’m going to let the honey crystallize, then I’m going to break it up and grind it into a powder.  Then I’m going to put it into little pouches.  You know, the kind they use for coffee sweeteners.”

                Nikkei mulled the idea over for a few moments.  Having powdered honey as a sweetener was unusual, to say the least.  But  she couldn’t exactly deny that it could work.

                “That…that actually sounds like a good idea.”  She admitted. 

                “I know, right.  Plus, since it’s pretty much homemade, I can use that as an extra selling point.  Guaranteed organic and all that.”

                “Wow.  You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”

                “You know it.  And since it’s a sweetener pouch, I can make a lot of them, even with so few hives.”

                “So, how are you going to keep the honey from sticking in the pouch?”

                “I’ve actually tested it, and the honey only gets sticky if it’s stored in a really hot, moist place.  Otherwise it’s fine.

                “Sounds good.  What about the packaging?”

                “I’m pretty sure you can get that stuff online or something.  I just have to come up with a name.” Danny was quite clearly planned everything out quite well.  Nikkei was actually impressed with how much planning had gone into it all.

                “Ah.  So, do you have any ready?”

                “Of course.  Try it out.”

                He handed her a small container or a yellowish powder, a spoon, and a cup filled with what looked like tea.  Nikkei placed a spoonful of the honey powder in the drink and tasted it.  It was a subtle, but she could taste the honey she had placed in it.  She placed another spoonful into the tea and it was definitely honey sweetened tea.

                “Well, it certainly works.”  She said as she finished off the drink.

                “Awesome.  And the honey itself is good too, right?” Danny asked, just to make sure.

                “Yup.  I think all those plants you have back there gives it a lot of different flavors.  It still carries through when you’ve powdered it also, so it’s all good.”

                “Great.”  Danny said, clearly proud of his efforts.  “Now then, I’ve got some other things I’ve used it for.  You want to try it out?”

                “Sure, that sounds nice.”  

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I wonder if something like this actually exists.  If not, I'm surprised it hasn't.  I bet someone tries it at some point in time though.

Also, as a side note, I wasn't really sure how to end this one.  I'm not sure if this was the best way to go about it, but it's all I could think of right now.  Maybe someday it'll get updated, but we'll see what happens. 

Word: Argonaut

Argonaut

noun

1. Classical Mythology. a member of the band of men who sailed to Colchis with Jason in the ship Argo in search of the Golden Fleece.

2. (sometimes lowercase) a person in quest of something dangerous but rewarding; adventurer.

3. a person who moved to California during the gold rush of 1849.

4. (lowercase) paper nautilus.

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Jerry looked nervously at the entrance to the old, half crumbling ruins.  He shifted the backpack he wore a bit, more out of nervous habit than it actually needing the adjustment.

                “Isn’t it a thing of beauty, Jeremy?” Mr. Telldale asked in his deep, resonant voice.  Jerry swore the large man was making his voice more dramatic, even though they were the only two people there.

                “That’s not quite the word I’d use to describe it.”  Jerry replied.  He didn’t feel the need to tell his employer what word he would use.

                “Oh come now, this is a true marvel.  An undiscovered ruin of an as of yet unknown civilization.  And we’re going to be the first people in recent history to plunge it’s depths.  We’ll be famous!”

                “Okay, yeah, I guess that sounds good.  But couldn’t we have brought someone else?  Someone who knows what they’re doing?”

                “What’s the point of that?  Bringing along a professional would only lessen our accomplishment.  Everyone would say we succeeded because of our help.  This way, everyone will know it was by our mettle that we discovered what we inevitably will.  Why, we’ll go down as modern day Argonauts, no doubt about it.”  Mr. Telldale puffed out his already large chest with pride at future deeds. 

                Jerry had to think about that one for a bit.  He knew that word from somewhere.  A movie he saw awhile ago.  Then it came to him.

                “Uh, weren’t the Argonauts famous for fighting monsters?”

                “Among other things, yes.  They were great adventurers who conquered that which nobody thought they could.  And so shall it be for us.” 

                “Yeah, I don’t think I want to try fighting a monster any time soon.”

                “Nonsense.  There won’t be any monsters.  Why, I’m sure there’s nothing harmful in there at all.”

                “Spiders?  Snakes?  Bats?  Other poisonous bugs?  Maybe a few bigger things that’ll just eat us instead of poisoning us?” Jerry was picturing the two of them being eaten by some wild animal while being bitten by a large number of creepy-crawly things.  It wasn’t a pleasant image. 

                “Don’t let your imagination run wild, Jeremy.  We’ll be fine, I’m sure of it.  Besides, we come well prepared for any emergency.”

                “Are you sure?”

                “Absolutely.  I dare you to name one thing that we lack.”

                “A flashlight, a cell phone, a GPS, bug spray, maybe a gun.  I can keep going if you want.” Jerry said, counting each item off on his fingers.

                “P’shaw, we don’t need any of those.  Modern luxuries, nothing more.  Our ancestors went forth and did things without those fancy things.  We can surly do the same.”

                Jerry did not share in his boss’ confidence.  He would have rather turned around and gone back to the nearest city.  The fact that it was nearly two hours away was only a minor deterrent.  It would still be preferable to whatever was in the ruins, that was for sure.

                “Okay, yeah, but that doesn’t mean we have to, right?  I mean at least the bug spray  and the gun, just in case.”

                “We each have a good, solid combat knife, and plenty of oils the locals use to keep the insects off.  Those will be sufficient for us.”

                “I’d rather have a gun.”  Jerry muttered.

                “Now then, let us be off!”  Mr. Telldale said in a particularly strong, dramatic voice.  “Glory, fame, and adventure await us!” 

                Mr. Telldale walked quickly into the opening.  Jerry groaned and followed behind, regretting every step he took.

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

 I'm sure they'll be fine.  Probably.  Maybe. 

Word: Saxicoline

saxicoline

[sak-sik-uh-lin, -lahyn]

adjective, Botany, Zoology

1. living or growing among rocks.

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Frank wished he was somewhere else.  He didn't particularly care where as long as it was somewhere else.  He was a respected educator; a molder of young minds.  He should not be a judge of a high school science fair. 

To be fair, he probably wouldn't have minded if the projects were any good.  Unfortunately, they were sub-par at best, and elementary at worst.  If he had to look at one more papier-mâché volcano or weather model, he would burst. 

He wasn't looking for any genius, national champion level projects.  That was asking too much from such a small school.  He just wanted something that was actual high school level.  Where were all the robots?  The chemical reactions?  The projects with actual merit?  So far there had been nothing but store bought, cookie cutter projects.  It seemed so pointless.

Frank stopped at the next project.  It belonged to James Deloy, one of his more promising students.  At the very least his project looked different than all the others.  It consisted of a group of rocks with what looked to be some kind of moss/grass hybrid on them.  The stuff looked like normal moss, but had short grass like blades growing among the rocks as well.  There was a TV set up behind him, but it wasn't displaying anything at that moment.  The student himself was fiddling with the display, obviously trying to get it to work.

Frank cleared his throat.  James stiffened for a moment, but turned around.

"Oh, hey Mr. Pommer." he said.

"Yes, hello James.  What've you got for me today?"

"Oh yeah, it's pretty cool.  See, it's a new kind of mps that I made."

"That you made?"  Frank asked.  At least it sounded promising.  That is, if it was true.

"Yup.  Made it from scratch.  It's a brand new type of moss that grows on rocks, Even in more arid places.  It's gonna do a lot of cool stuff once it really takes off."

The teen certainly seemed confident. That was for sure.  And the moss did look like no other types.  Frank thought James may have intended it to be a method of turning unusable, rocky land into viable pasture land.  After all, it did look like it had some grass like qualities.

 Frank looked at it closer, and saw something odd about the sample though.  He felt one of the blades and sighed.  It had a very distinct feeling.

"James, this is plastic." Frank said.

"Yeah, I know.  Pretty cool, huh?"

"James, you can't go making plastic models and pass it off as something new."

"It's not a model.  It's moss that has plastic like properties.  Basically, it's organic, growable plastic.  Once this stuff really gets out there, it'll revolutionize everything.  Think about it, anyone with enough rocks will be able to grow their own plastic.  Okay, so only big industries will be able to make it in any significant amounts, but still.

"I mean, it’s not perfect or anything.  Since it’s still technically a plant, it only comes it green, so it won’t completely replace manufactured plastics or anything.  Okay, yeah, I tried growing it in other colors, but it didn’t last long.  The yellow held out for a few days longer, but only this green kind can last for any decent amount of time.”

“Yes, James, I’m sure this must all seem very nice to you.  A biological, growable plastic would change quite a bit.  Unfortunately, there’s just no way that can be done.”

“Sure it can.  I did it, and it’s right here.”  James said, pointing to his display.

“I’m afraid I can’t see any evidence that it is, in fact, moss.”

“That’s what the video is for.  I filmed the entire thing as it grew. I’ll show you once I get this thing to work.” 

James immediately went back to work trying to set up the video.  Frank decided to humor the boy and waited.  When he finally did get the slightly outdated equipment to work, he let out a triumphant cheer and set up his video.

“See?  Here I am, getting the seeds of the various colors ready on their rocks.”  James narrated as the film started.  On the screen was a large amount or rocks set up in an outdoor area.  James came on and did just what the teen said.

James continued narrating as Frank watched what appeared to be sped up footage of multi-colored moss growing among a large spread of rocks.  Just as James said, most of the more colorful varieties died out fairly soon, with the colors closer to green lasting longer, and the green moss that was now in front of him lasting until the end of the video.

“See?  It’s all there.”  James said.  “That was filmed constantly over a month.  I could’ve grown more, but that was all the time I had before the fair.”

“Yes, I see.”  Frank said.  He still wasn’t a hundred percent certain.  Although the moss grown on the video did look like the live version, things like that were fairly easy to fake for someone who knew how.  “Although I still need to see more proof that what you have here is, in fact, moss and not a model.  If you can provide that right now, then I would feel quite confident giving you the first place.  If you can’t do that, I’m afraid that I can’t do anything.”

“Uh, oh, yeah, right, sure.”  James said.  He pulled out a notebook and began flipping through it, growing more frustrated as he went.  “Okay, yeah, I don’t have anything else on me right now.  But I do have stuff.  And I can leave the moss here for a few days until you can tell it’s grown.  That should do, right?”

“The science fair won’t be on for a few more days.  Now, while I would be curious on a personal level to see if what you’ve made is real, I’m afraid it won’t be any good for this.”  James looked more than a little disappointed by that.  “But, if it’s real, I will help you after the fair ends to get it out to the public. You were right; something like what you claim will help a lot of people.”

“Really?”  James asked, perking up immediately.  “Thanks, Mr. Pommer.” 

“Of course, James.  Now, unless you have something else to add, I’ll see you in class tomorrow.” 

As Frank went on to the next project, he couldn’t help but wonder if James was telling the truth.  He wasn’t very confident, but either way he would find out in a few days.  

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A kind of plastic that grows like a plant would be pretty cool.  It might cause some problems for the oil industry, but somehow I think they'd survive.

Word: criticaster

criticaster

[krit-i-kas-ter]

noun

1. an incompetent critic.

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Janet reread the small article in the newspaper.  She simply couldn’t believe what she was reading.  It just didn’t make any sense to her.

                “This is unbelievable.”  She said, putting the paper down on the table.

                “What is?”  Asked her husband, Dave.

                “This drama critic in the paper.  You remember that play we went to last night?”  Dave nodded, “Well this guy said it was bad.  Not just bad, he said it was terrible.  I think the word garbage was used several times.  He thought the acting was uninspired, the music was bad, and the plot was trite and predictable.”

                “What?  Let me see that.”  Dave said.  He grabbed the paper and read the review.  “Wow.  This guy’s way off.  That was a great show.”

                “I wonder if this guy was watching a different show than we were.”

                “Can’t be.  The review had to have been written at least two or three days ago, and it says the name of the show and the theater.  It’s all the same.”

                “Well then, this guy’s an idiot.”  Janet said.  “Maybe we should write to the paper and ask that they get rid of that guy.”

                “Let’s not be rash here.”  Dave replied.  “Maybe he was just having a bad day, or he has a personal dislike for someone involved with the show.  Hang on, let me check this guy out.”

                Dave went and retrieved is laptop.  Once everything was set up, he searched for the critic in question.  It didn’t take long to find the guy, but he did take some time to read up on him.

                “Oh.  Oh wow.”  He said after a few minutes.

                “What?  What’s wrong?”  Janet asked.

                “This guy’s nuts.  Everything he reviews is bad.  I mean it.  It doesn’t look like he’s ever given a good review in his career.  It doesn’t matter what other people say, or what he’s reviewing, it’s always negative.”

                “Okay, yeah, like I said, he’s an idiot.”

                “No, I don’t think that’s quite correct.  He writes well, and he seems smart enough from what I can tell.  I think he’s just bad at his job.  Either that, or he’s just a hurtful, spiteful human being.”

                “Great.  So people are getting their info from a critic that is either completely incompetent, or just hates everything?  No wonder people think the arts are dead in this town.  Do people at least know how awful this guy is?”  Janet asked.  Dave spent a few more minutes searching. 

                Well, since he only writes two or three reviews in each publication, I’d say that’s a fair bet.  He just doesn’t give up though.  From what I can tell, he’s written for at least a dozen newspapers all over the country.  It doesn’t seem like they keep him around for very long, that’s for sure.”

                “Well, at least that’s something.  Hopefully our paper is smart enough to get rid of this guy for someone who actually knows how to do his job.”

                “We can only hope.”  Dave said, nodding in agreement.  “Otherwise there might be something to it when people say the arts are dead.”

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It's amazing how we let critics color our views on something, isn't it?  If something gets a bad review, people seeing it will inevitably tend to see the bad things, while the opposite tends to be true for good reviews.  Maybe people should try reading a review of something after they've seen it?  Of course, that would defeat the purpose of a critic, wouldn't it?