Quadrivial Quandary:  Logophiles, Rejoice!  Each day we give you four unusual words.  Can you fit them all in one illustrative sentence?

Quandary Resolutions by MissTeriWoman

  • #5918 submitted 06/25/2015: splenetic, flense, futile, ubiety

    For the present, we must draw a veil, light as gossamer, across the first proper encounter of Theresa Somerville and her Dresden Shepherdess, whose name is Nikki Marianella, but we shall return to it; because it is time to wind the clock back and be transported as on a Magic Carpet through time and space to Friday past, and far to the East, pausing briefly at his Chambers, where through the window we can spy on Martin Elginbrod QC, seemingly in a splenetic or apoplectic rage – ripping pages to shreds and scattering them wildly, throwing pink-beribboned briefs (not Ladies, Legal ones) into corners; roaring like a banshee, knocking over piles of books and other papers, even kicking the poor Office Moggie, who yelps and tries to slink into a nook – and why is Elginbrod so ferocious – he is not searching, for this manner of search would be futile – perhaps he has received bad news, or an anonymous threat, maybe an attempt at extortion with a threat to rattle his ubiety, his perception of his own fixed place in time and space, even to flay him of his riches, his monetary insulation, just as a whaler flense his catch of it's blubber; now that would certainly account for his frenetic behaviour, in which there is no sense of order or calm; we wonder who might have upset him so – and wondering, ever so slightly, for we do have some knowledge of these matter, we pat our Magic Carpet and ask it to move on, perhaps to a hostelry on the Southern fringe of the City, between the City Boundary and the Bypass, where other acquaintances of ours might be meeting, with the subject of their tryst, that same Martin Elginbrod QC whom we have just seen in such a stooshie, as was the present writer when she realized her non-deliberate mistake and cursed the limitations of her Spell-Checker: no more juice for the Naughty Boy!

  • #5917 submitted 06/25/2015: splenetic, flense, futile, ubiety

    For the present, we must draw a veil, light as gossamer, across the first proper encounter of Theresa Somerville and her Dresden Shepherdess, whose name is Nikki Marianella, but we shall return to it; because it is time to wind the clock back and be transported as on a Magic Carpet through time and space to Friday past, and far to the East, pausing briefly at his Chambers, where through the window we can spy on Martin Elginbrod QC, seemingly in a splenetic or apoplectic rage – ripping pages to shreds and scattering them wildly, throwing pink-beribboned briefs (not Ladies, Legal ones) into corners; roaring like a banshee, knocking over piles of books and other papers, even kicking the poor Office Moggie, who yelps and tries to slink into a nook – and why is Elginbrod so ferocious – he is not searching, for this manner of search would be futile – perhaps he has received bad news, or an anonymous threat, maybe an attempt at extortion with a threat to rattle his ubiety, his perception of his own fixed place in time and space, even to flay him of his riches, his monetary insulation, just as a whaler fleuse his catch of it's blubber; now that would certainly account for his frenetic behaviour, in which there is no sense of order or calm; we wonder who might have upset him so – and wondering, ever so slightly, for we do have some knowledge of these matter, we pat our Magic Carpet and ask it to move on, perhaps to a hostelry on the Southern fringe of the City, between the City Boundary and the Bypass, where other acquaintances of ours might be meeting, with the subject of their tryst, that same Martin Elginbrod QC whom we have just seen in such a stooshie!

  • #5910 submitted 06/24/2015: enervate, dead tree edition, anastrophe, ennui

    Enervated by her dreams of the Dresden Shepherdess, though well aware of the futility of obsessing over someone there was little, if not no, likelihood of ever seeing again, Teri had sunk into a lethargic ennui; as there was no reliable broadband service to Rosie's cottage, and she had forgotten her Kindle, and on her mobile she could not read conveniently, Teri had searched Rosie's extensive library – shelf after shelf of dead-tree editions which, if she was truthful – which she pretty much always was, and still is – she much preferred, and began reading The Collected Letters of Seneca; she vaguely heard a distant knock, but was so engrossed in her reading that she had paid it no heed until Rosie's face appeared in the doorway, with a very silly-looking grin, at which Teri must have looked perplexed, and at her silent enquiry, Rosie said in the Yoda-like anastrophising they had been using all weekend: “a Dresden Shepherdess, it is – and you to see, she says, she is!”

  • #5907 submitted 06/23/2015: oppugn, unbeknownst, belated, otiose

    After a terribly restless night, in which she tossed and turned, burrowed beneath, then discarded, pillows and duvet, alternately shivered and sweated, with dreams in utter certainty of their reality, in which an unidentified woman, in short floral frock, cork-soled-wedge-shoes, with long bare legs and a delicate gold ankle-chain, strutted and gazed with such a come-hither frankness that she was quite smitten, Teri awoke belatedly, exhausted, drenched and feeling as though it were she and not Rosie who had been laid low with a fever – and now it was Rosie who tended to her, mopped her brow, checked her temperature, gave her sweet tea and nursed her back to some semblance of her normal self; fortunately they were completely otiose, there were no demands on their time, no challenges to oppugn their choice to rest awhile, recover their strength, before sallying forth; Teri did not have to be back in Edinburgh by any particular time, or even day, for she had arranged that The Famous Four were feeding and caring for her Aunt Maude’s cats, though, unbeknownst to her, they had, on a whim, abandoned the cats to one of the pretty waitresses from their favourite Italian Bistro, but even had she been aware of this change, Teri would not have fretted, for Celestine was not only very pretty, but quite reliable, much more so in fact than The Famous Four!

  • #5904 submitted 06/22/2015: precipitous, avocation, roustabout, clepe

    To clepe Teri, in her avocation of love, a precipitous roustabout is to miss the point - she is a dedicated follower of fun-sized female fashionista talent, always was, and always will be, so stick that in your pipe and smoke it!

  • #5903 submitted 06/22/2015: precipitous, avocation, roustabout, clepe

    Rosie and Teri had a lovely Sunday morning, they went to Stirling and saw the towering Castle rising high above the precipitous rock, and then to the antiques market near Doune, where Rosie's avocation saved roustabout Teri from yet another expensive mistake, for despite her enthusiasms, Rosie still cleped Teri a born sucker - and not only for bric-a-brac, for she spotted Teri following a woman who was wearing a sort of mini-Dresden- Shepherdess dress, Cork- soled shoes and a delicate chain round her bare ankle, and she would have bought everything the other touched but Rosie successfully intervened and they went back to the cottage via Aberfoyle and saw the Baillie Nicol Jarvie Inn - now exclusive apartments - and to Rosie's cottage for cocoa fortified with Scotland's National Drink, and Teri vowed to avoid posting to QQ with her phone 'cause it was mingin'!!!

  • #5902 submitted 06/22/2015: precipitous, avocation, roustabout, clepe

    Rosie and Teri had a lovely Sunday morning, they went to Stirling and saw the towering Castle rising high above the precipitous rock and thence to the antiques market near Doune, where Rosie's avocation saved the roustabout Teri from yet another expensive mistake for she is not an expert and Rosie noticed that she had spotted a woman in a kind of mini-Dresden-Shepherdess dress with Cork- soled shoes and a delicate chain round her bare ankle and followed her around and would have bought everything the other touched but Rosie successfully intervened and they went back to the cottage via Aberfoyle and saw the Baillie Nicol Jarvie Inn - now exclusive apartments - and to Rosie's cottage for cocoa fortified with Scotland's National Drink!

  • #5901 submitted 06/21/2015: fructuous, angst, ingenuous, swashbuckler

    Teri seethed with swashbuckling angst as her fructuous mobile phone selected ingenious instead of ingenuous to make nonsense of her carefully crafted sentence - Grrrrrowl!!!

  • #5900 submitted 06/21/2015: fructuous, angst, ingenuous, swashbuckler

    Rosie, her angst reduced and her good spirits rising, demonstrably more fructuous in her demeanour and her thoughts, asked Teri if they might go out as the weather had improved - she seemed as ingenious as a child, simple in her wants and needs, and when Teri suggested a drive to Falkirk to visit The Kelpies, Rosie's face lit up and she clapped her hands with joy - for neither of them had been to the magnificent, swashbuckling statues, great white horses heads, rearing over the Forth and Clyde Canal hard by the final lock, where it tumbles into the great, tidal, Eastern river and the sight of their power and strength gave the cousins much to wonder over as, in the afternoon, they took tea and toasted tea-cakes in a pretty little cafeteria in Bo'ness before driving back to Rosie's cottage for an evening snuggled before it's comforting fire.

  • #5899 submitted 06/20/2015: fructuous, demagogue, hobbit, cavil

    But she could cavil like a demagogue when her Hobbit fingers posted a fructuous entry twice to QQ!!!

  • #5898 submitted 06/20/2015: fructuous, demagogue, hobbit, cavil

    Teri felt like a Hobbit in the close shelter of Rosie's cottage in the folds of the Campsie Hills, but she could not cavil, for the safety brought a fructuous mind, quite free of the concerns of the world outside, of political demagogues and historic subterfuge as that of Sir Parlane MacFarlane, so she tended to Rosie and felt herself at peace in her new role as Nurse Teri - plots and blogs could wait a few days longer and the world would keep on turning.

  • #5897 submitted 06/20/2015: fructuous, demagogue, hobbit, cavil

    Teri felt like a Hobbit in the close shelter of Rosie's cottage in the folds of the Campsie Hills, but she could not cavil, for the safety brought a fructuous mind, quite free of the concerns of the world outside, of political demagogues and historic subterfuge as that of Sir Parlane MacFarlane, so she tended to Rosie and felt herself at peace in her new role as Nurse Teri - plots and blogs could wait a few days longer and the world would keep on turning.

  • #5896 submitted 06/19/2015: fructuous, salad dodger, parse, inviolable

    Teri tried to parse the nerdy salad dodging geek's instructions into a fructuous Englsh she could make some use of; here, in her cousin Rosie's inviolable cottage in the folds of the Campsie Hills, the bearer of Chicken Soup on an errand of Mercy, she had closed the door against the winds, the shutters against the rain, put logs on the fire and heated the soup on the Raeburn and while Rosie dozed and the storm raged without, after struggling and failing to get online, she had called The Economic Migrant at the house in Drumchapel he shared with his parents and five sisters and wrote down his instructions - she touched the screen and Bingo! she was online and could now post her entry for today on QQ!!! to get an Internet connection, Teri had, in desperation, called The Economic Migrant - a 12-year-old Syrian bot, surviving on pizza and chips in a cupboard under the stairs in the house in Drumchapel he shared with his parents and five sisters, and patiently wrote down his instructions; she touched the screen and Bingo - she was online and could now post her entry for today on QQ!

  • #5894 submitted 06/18/2015: prolegomenon, chiaroscuro, caparison, unreality

    It was a simple error, the mishearing of words spoken over a poor telephone connection but, like so many simple errors – like that which resulted in the Charge of The Light Brigade – it's ramifications - like the ripples from a pebble casually cast into a pool – spread far and wide: “my name is Albert and I run the Ali Baba's Shop, an Oriental Emporium and specialist dealers in all sorts of richly bejewelled and colourful caparisons for women, and certain men, not afraid to stand out from the crowd, in the Grassmarket, and I want to enter our singing group, made up of myself and three of my assistants, for Hughie Green's Opportunity Knocks Show, being broadcast this Sunday at the Playhouse Theatre,” and as luck would have it, Hughie Green himself had taken that call, though suffering from a heady cold and he asked the caller to repeat the name of the group; all went smoothly and uneventfully, until the moment when the lights dimmed, the group took their places indicated by young Martin, the Floor Manager, the lights burst on them, dazzling the four singers highlighted in the chiaroscuro effect the director liked to create; Hughie Green, because of the cold he was still suffering from had decided to abandon his usual prolegomenon, simply announcing that, for these four young men from Edinburgh, Tonight, Opportunity Knocks, and as the opening bars of Swannee River rose through the Theatre and the four men began to sing, Al, overcome by the unreality of the place he found himself in, failed to notice the Announcement card for Act #7 - Mr Ali's Barbershop Quartet – they swept the board, rose through further heats and at length won the Grand Finals, and he still hadn't registered the name bestowed on them, but, as the concept swept through Scotland, Great Britain and the whole World, and Barbershop Quartets soared in popularity, multiplying exponentially, his own group, amateurs all, couldn't compete with the professionally trained singers who soon outstripped them, but he never said a word until, just before he passed away, a couple of years ago, he told his step-daughters, how the name mistakenly picked up by Hughie Green through the telephone and his muffled hearing, had been feloniously copyrighted and patented by one Martin Elginbrod, who was at the time a student working as a temporary Floor Manger for STV on that night's show, who had since earned Millions, if not Billions from it, and whose son, the present holder of the name, was still milking it, while he, Albert O'Hooligan had received not one brown penny, but the girls must swear on their Sainted Mother's life and soul, that they would see to it that the Elginbrod's were made to pay, and Bunty and Dixie, without a moment's hesitation, did so swear!

  • #5890 submitted 06/17/2015: turbid, postilion, esoteric, lackadaisical

    This morning, rather lackadaisically, if not downright turbidly, Teri cleared away the evidence of The Famous (Esoteric) Four with whom she had ridden, from the great circular bed on which they had ridden – she their postillion as it were – through the past few days and nights on a journey of discovery: I am, she thought to herself, but what I am, none knows or cares – and then laughed, her tinkling, musical laugh, and clapped her hands, for that phrase may have been apposite in the case of poor John Clare, but so far as she, herself, was concerned, it was just a load of Toffee!

Displaying Post 1231 - 1245 of 1305 in total

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