salvation n. Preservation or deliverance from destruction, difficulty, or evil. A source, means, or cause of such preservation or deliverance.
demulcent: having a softening or soothing effect especially to the skin
Well, what can I say, or do, to explain those two definitions? I originally started this entry (and excuse me for quoting myself, but who better after all?): “Sometimes a fellow just has to salve his judgment . . .”
Having gotten that far with my thought, I thought: “What in the world am I saying here?” So I googled ‘salving’ – just wondering like, you know. You see the results. Except for the Salvation business. I’m not real sure how Salvation slipped into the conversation I was having. Not really. Though, maybe, the back of the mind was jogging the front of the mind, that there is matter between their respective positions. A hint, I suppose, that the in between matter should be used.
For what hasn’t become clear for me as yet.
Two tales of different sort brought all of this on.
The first is the . . Well . . You know – the ladies better than the hemales – how a guy, seeing a lady in distress, will say: “Call me if you need anything. I’ll take care of it.”
The guys say that stuff all the time. Usually the ladies laugh and think: “Right. Sure. And where were you before this happened?”
Well. There’s some justification to that I’m thinking. I said that, or words to that effect, and the lady said . . . what the lady said. She did suggest I think about what I said, before I set it in stone, like, and I’ve been thinking about what I said.
Oh, it isn’t that I regret what I said, it’s that I’m just now thinking about the matter between saying it and actuality. Which is, I’m guessing, what the lady was smiling about when she told me to think about it.
That’s where “salving” came into the picture. I’m trying to ease the thought. And, maybe, fulfill the female sand burr of “commit.”
Males are so dumb, some times. So easily skewered.
Remember the brother? He’s the one I wrote about along with the cameras and the being a mechanical genius? Yeah, him.
Let me tell it this way:
Near neighbor has motion detection cameras around his place, and sound gathering devices (which means he hears all the fine things his neighbors say about him. Of course, he’s never heard of Granny’s saying of Listening At Closed Doors; but then near neighbor isn’t overly endowed with common sense). His cameras are usually protecting his stash of illicit product – I wish I knew what’s in those small red plastic bags. That bugs me. I know about the black balls and the clear tubes and the paper things, but the red tubes and small plastic red bags bother me for some reason.
Anyhow, every once in a while I get a wild hair, or decide the grass needs mowing, and I run up and down the street (its dirt, the street that is, and grass grows out there and need cutting) within range of near neighbors cameras.
Now, I know that, and I know that it sets off the pager he carries, and I know that it records in the house. And I know that when the police scanner tells all the doers in the village that the police will be in town or the word gets out the police are here, then near neighbor gets very nervous and pays attention to that pager.
That’s usually when I decide to cut grass, or walk up and down the street.
There’s other times I feel a need, but you get the picture. About twice a week or so the widow lady up the road, on the corner, gets an urge and near neighbor, being off the tax rolls except for Dole, so to speak, takes care of the urge being free, you might say during the day time when most others are occupied making money – ah, being gainfully employed.
As you might suppose, me moving up and down the street trips the cameras and that trips the pager and that means, if I’m lucky, I can catch someone with their pants down and . . well, you can see how salvation slipped into all of this.
Generally speaking, however, someone of the near neighbors family comes flying down the road and screeches into their drive and bust up into the house to view the record and reset the pager.
Well, yesterday was the day of urges and I took the wired together mower out and cut grass – it needed it for sure, and the darnedest thing happened.
The brother came flying around the corner and after tending business, came over and knocked on the door. Said he’d just stopped by to fix the mower with that new part I’d received.So I let him and added a bit of tractor work to the effort. I
have to go to the dealership and pick up a ball joint for the left front. When I get it, the brother said, get ahold of him and he’d install it.
In the midst of all the repair work, of course, near neighbor came home driving his lawn mower. He had his britches on, but didn’t look any too happy.
From the reaches,