Word For The Day 6-21-2017


jo·ba·tion \jōˈbāshən\
Popularity: Bottom 30% of words


A scolding; a long tedious reproof.


When he had gone I gave Umslopogaas a jobation and told him that I was ashamed of his behaviour.
Allan Quatermain

It is difficult for me to justify to myself the violent jobation which my Father gave me in consequence of my scream, except by attributing to him something of the human weakness of vanity.
Father and Son: a study of two temperaments

Julian would gladly have fought it out with his imperative father; but, nevertheless, it was a comfort to have to fetch pale Charles for a jobation; so he went at once.
The Complete Prose Works of Martin Farquhar Tupper

After all, there’s no place for a cock to fight on like his own dunghill; and there’s nothing able to carry a fellow well through a tough bit of jobation with a lawyer like a stiff tumbler of brandy punch.
The Kellys and the O’Kellys

Mr Green was presented, and ushered into the service much in the same way as I was; but he had not forgotten what I said to him relative to the first lieutenant; and it so happened that, on the third day he witnessed a jobation, delivered by the first lieutenant to one of the midshipmen, who, venturing to reply, was ordered to the mast-head for the remainder of the day; added to which, a few minutes afterwards, the first lieutenant ordered two men to be put both legs in irons.
Percival Keene

“I can understand, father,” answered Ida, struggling to keep her temper under this jobation, “that my refusal to marry Mr. Cossey is disagreeable to you for obvious reasons, though it is not so very long since you detested him yourself.”
Colonel Quaritch, V.C. A Tale of Country Life


jobe (to harangue or rebuke in a long-winded or drawn-out way)

-ation (an action or process)


“I Am Brave” 30 Day Challenge Day 8: 6-21-2017

I am Capable!


Water someone else’s seed of intention:

  1. Bring a friend to mind who you know is capable and gifted in a certain way.
  2. Send them some words of encouragement letting them know you see that in them.


Who made you feel good this week? What did they say?

I have one friend who always pushes me to be my best. No hiding behind myself or pretending. She kicked me through the fear of a divorce. She keeps me from lying to myself.

But, I am lying to myself again. She used to. Some of the saddest words in the world. She used to.

I know I was decompressing all last year; maybe, she was, too. We both had a hard year. We’ve both lost ourselves. I want to find myself, and my friend, again. I don’t want this wall between us, these misunderstandings and blow-ups.

I texted her this morning, telling her I value her as a friend. I am proud to call her a friend. Later on, I will call her. Just to say hi.

I’d forgotten how it feels to make another person feel valued and loved and useful just for being themselves. Here’s to remembering and to letting all my friends know how much I value their friendship.

To those of you with whom I’ve become friends on WordPress, thank you for your friendship. Thank you for your comments on my work, good or bad, and for just stopping by to say hi. I know I haven’t been keeping up my end of the friendship lately (a long lately), but I will change that. Hint – the 35 pages of blog posts I need to read, like and comment on (well maybe not comment on them all:).

So, if I haven’t been by your page in a long while, I am coming. It’s good to have friends. It’s good to have connection. It’s good simply to be alive

Sunday Photo Fiction – June 20th 2017

The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to create a story / poem or something using around about 200 words with the photo as a guide.

203 06 June 18th 2017

© A Mixed Bag

He looked up at the eagle, judging time from sun and shadows. Turned to watch the wave of schoolchildren filling the plaza, shrieks and laughter warmer than the day.

“Time,” Diego said into his earpiece.

It wasn’t quite, but he said nothing. Patience was his virtue. Always had been. His weakness, too.

He picked up the courier as he entered the plaza, watching him wind around to the monument in the center. The eagle above. Eternally waiting.

Stepped up beside the man.

“It-it-it’s all here,” the man stuttered,  offering up a small folder.

He raised his eyes to the eagle again, courier’s following, then dropping again.

The eagle sees all.

Message heard, finally, and received.

Taking the folder, he slipped it inside his shirt; turned away, lost in the crowds.

Silence surrounded the courier, cut by the shrieks of children, sharp as knives.

Response JSW Week 6-12-2017

Which is odd because you shouldn’t forget me. We’ve known each other all our lives. More than that, really. Longer, harder, deeper.

I’ll never forget.

But you were never as dedicated as me. Not when I met you. Not when we parted. Not anytime in-between.

Not even as I watch you bleed away……


(Don’t you just hate it when a character comes by, starts to tell a story, then just goes away?)