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Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Friday, May 21, 2010

Scribbles and Scrambles - Fruitfulness by Any Other Name

















Wow.

Somehow I missed a big, big moment at Scrambled Dregs.

This is my 1,002nd post.

Hmmm. Didn't know I had reached this level of....loss for words here....verbal diarrhea is not appropriate because these words are primarily typed and I'm pretty sure that particular ailment doesn't apply to fingers.

Expressive...that's good...let me go google something, I'll be right back.....definitely not fertility or fruitfulness, don't like either of those word pictures...how about

fe·cund

[fee-kuhnd, -kuhnd, fek-uhnd, -uhnd]
–adjective
1.
producing or capable of producing offspring, fruit, vegetation, etc., in abundance; prolific; fruitful: fecund parents; fecund farmland.
2.
very productive or creative intellectually: the fecund years of the Italian Renaissance. But that's not exactly there yet. fecundity. Yes.

I had not realized that I had reached expressive fecundity in my blogging.


My sincere apologies to all who have had to slog through posts such as this where the fecundity leaves a slight odor.


Happy Friday. I am off to do mother of graduate things today and must get coffee in me.