Tuesday, April 05, 2016

You'll Freeze Out There

I enjoy watching people gesture wildly when I can't hear what they're saying. The other day, at the Harvard Art Museum, my parents and I enjoyed several long minutes watching from a balcony as a woman below us gesticulated in an animated way in the direction of a marble statue. She seemed to be explaining or commenting or lecturing for the benefit of her companions. Her hands moved in pointing, slicing, chopping motions. Just now I watched two women across the street walking together in the cold, stopping periodically so one of them could wave her arms about and move her mouth. Was she angry at the other woman? Telling a funny story? Why couldn't she keep walking while she told it? It's really cold out today.

Among today's words I've so far blurbed: plutocrat, podcast, pocketbook, poach, plywood. I wanted to go overtly political all over "plutocrat." I wanted to gesticulate wildly, in fact.

I love podcasts.
I have a strong feeling about plywood, too.
I have learned to poach an egg pretty well, if I do say so myself.
The word "pocketbook" makes me think of my grandmother.
The word "plutocrat" makes me angry.

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