Quite frankly Brooklyn, I’m amazed that you didn’t know the meaning of heteropaternal superfecundation. I thought everyone would be familiar with the term. I suppose if you live a protected life with little bearing on reality then you might have escaped knowing what such words mean. Goodness knows the extent of ignorance in society. I have no idea what they’re teaching in schools these days.
Let’s all say “heteropaternal superfecundation” three times to imprint it on your memory. One two three:
(Footnote – at the beginning! Sorry I haven’t been around too much recently to read the blogs of others. It’s Spring over here. I’m chasing my tail. The garden’s a mess and so is everything else! I’ll be more diligent as soon as I can. Here is today’s story:)
Senka Lotolili Theadora de Haan-Ozich-Bosnyak hated the fact that so many from her village had the same name. Why couldn’t her parents have been more creative? Whenever anyone asked her name and she said “Senka Lotolili Theadora de Haan-Ozich-Bosnyak” the next question was inevitably “Which one?” She was almost inclined to wear her address on her name tag because it would save a lot of time. Senka Lotolili Theadora de Haan-Ozich-Bosnyak was all for the modern trend of allowing people when they came of age to be able to choose their own name. She certainly would not have chosen Senka Lotolili Theadora de Haan-Ozich-Bosnyak and nor would dozens of other women in the village who shared such a hackneyed nomenclature.
It was so expensive to officially change ones name these days. And it was complicated. When Senka Lotolili Theadora de Haan-Ozich-Bosnyak went to the bank to ask if she could change the name on the bank card, the manager (upon asking her name) asked “Which one?”
Senka Lotolili Theadora de Haan-Ozich-Bosnyak was determined. She would somehow get the money. She needed a sponsor, some kindly group who would sympathize with her plight. She knocked on quite a few doors. And then, success! A local entrepreneur paid for her to have her name changed.
Sunbeam Digital-Multi-Function-Oven-and-Air-Fryer was delighted. Her friends called her Sunny. No one ever again asked “Which one?”
Cooper and Athena Gilmour wanted a large family. Oh the excitement at being able to name the firstborn; son Bjorn Andrew.
Next came a daughter, Belinda Elizabeth, then Bruno Ivan. The Ivan was after an old great uncle who had recently died and although Athena and Cooper Gilmour didn’t like the name Ivan very much it was a middle name, and middle names didn’t really matter.
The fourth child was a third boy, Bartholomew Owen, although he was known simply as Bart. And finally there was Bethany Ursula which was a bit of a mouthful, but Cooper and Athena liked both names but not necessarily when they were put together. They couldn’t decide what to choose so both names were used.
It wasn’t until the fifth and final child had been named that Athena and Cooper Gilmour realized something: the children’s names all started with B:
Bjorn Andrew Gilmour, Belinda Elizabeth Gilmour, Bruno Ivan Gilmour, Bartholomew Owen Gilmour, and Bethany Ursula Gilmour.
It was confusing having so many B. Gilmour’s, so at school they were known by their initials:
Silas had been accepted for training in a job he had wanted all his life. It wasn’t so much a “job” as a calling, a vocation, a fulfilment of a dream.
One of the first things the group of candidates were told was if they got an itch they were not to scratch. “If you concentrate on the itch intensely it will go away quickly without scratching. You have a lifetime of scratching when it itches. The motto is: To scratch the scratch, don’t scratch!” At one stage, to facilitate this, a few fleas were released unknown to the group, during a lecture. No one scratched and yet quite a few felt a flea or two!
Silas passed with flying colours, not only the scratch test but everything else as well. In fact he was first in the class of the five candidates who had survived the training. His first undertaking was at hand. It was the most exciting day of his life!
The task began! It was going well! And then – an itch began. Was it a flea? Was it some sort of nit? Silas couldn’t help it. He took a hand off the controls and with one arm he briefly scratched.
It wasn’t exactly the right thing to do when flying in close formation at the Fort Worth Air Show.
Well, Listeners, today’s talkback show is to do with staying healthy and fit. Our guest is the embodiment of fitness and health without going over the top. We’ll talk about how simple actions that we do in daily life can enhance ones health. It doesn’t have to be much to be effective.
We are awaiting the arrival of Autumn. I don’t mean the season although there’s that too! No, we await the arrival of Autumn Wasiukieivicz, today’s guest.
I don’t want to cover too many of the everyday hints that Autumn will reflect upon, but to give an example. If you’re right-handed always open the door with your left hand, and vice versa. It strengthens a limb that is not used as much as the other and it heightens co-ordination. I know that it is a practice sometimes suggested by drum teachers to enhance a student’s ability to use both arms.
There are many other little things such as this which Autumn will tell you about, and before you know it you’ll be as fit as a fiddle without having to don sweaty clothing. Of course, Autumn is a wonder. She is at the peak of condition. She also represented her region in the annual National Acrobatics Festival.
Taking health and fitness seriously can prolong your life no end, and makes for a happier more content life…
We’ve just received a message that Autumn cannot make it. Apparently she is at the hospital. She was reaching for the door handle with her left hand when someone coming the other way opened the door and knocked her out flat.
Margaret was an excellent cook, and so should she be as she was the cooking teacher at the local high school. She had just been employed and was excited to begin. Cooking had been introduced into the curriculum for both boys and girls because these days with both parents working it was easier to leave cooking lessons up to a teacher. After all, it was a school!
The school wasn’t riddled with multitudinous ovens, so cooking classes were restricted to fourteen pupils at one time using the ovens and the rest of the class creating a cold salad or dessert.
On the first class Margaret ran into trouble. There were fourteen boys and twelve girls. She decided to run a little competition: boys versus girls. The boys at first were given the task of making a cold salad. The girls were to make cookies of their choice from a pile of recipes. All went well.
“When you’re ready for the oven,” said Margaret, “don’t forget to set the timer. It will take about thirty minutes. When you are done, it’s the boys’ turn.
Pandemonium erupted after thirty minutes. The timer alarms all went off at different times. No one knew whose alarm was whose. Some girls’ cookies hadn’t cooked; other girls’ cookies were burnt.
Then it was the boys turn. Everything came out perfectly. Their cookies were perfection itself. The boys won the day!
Wesley was pleased with his new-learned skill; he could adjust girls’ timers and oven temperatures without anyone noticing.
What a successful fundraising event our Gala Day was! We raised over three thousand dollars for gymnasium equipment.
I wish to announce the winner of the “Guess-the-number-of-Smarties-in-the-Jar” (aka “Guess-the-number-of-M&Ms-in-the-Jar”) competition. As you probably know the prize for the right guess is twenty-five dollars. It was a very popular fund-raiser and over five hundred (mainly children) entered the guessing game. There were very few entries sharing the same number.
I am told the official number was 1,561 Smarties in the jar. What nonsense! That was perhaps the case with the old mathematics. In these more enlightened times every child is correct. All numbers are right depending upon how mathematics is done. Nor should we be keen to put a child down. It would be humiliating. All entries are winners.
I have instructed the organizers to give each entry twenty-five dollars. The accountant says that would come to over twelve and a half thousand dollars which is more than the money raised. Again, what nonsense! That may have been the case under the old mathematics but these days we are more liberated. With the new mathematics there is something for each winner and enough left over to purchase a good amount of gymnasium equipment.
On a lighter note, not knowing what to do with the jar of Smarties, my wife and I decided to enjoy them ourselves – all 1,561 of them.
What a thrill it was when a pair of pigeons began creating a nest on the ledge right outside Jackson’s window. It had one disadvantage: he could watch the progress over the coming weeks, but the weather was getting warmer and he didn’t want to frighten the pigeons by opening the window. Jackson could have reached out and touched them they were so close.
Jackson kept a detail account of progress in a notebook. They seemed to have created some sort of nest but no egg had appeared. And then wonder of wonders! The first egg appeared! A second egg appeared about a day later. The eggs were white. Both parents took turns sitting on the eggs, but the female did most of the sitting.
After 18 days of incubation two squabs hatched. The parents began feeding them. They grew quickly. After two weeks feathers began to grow. At three weeks they were fully feathered. On the 28th day they were fully grown and ready to leave the nest, but before they did Jackson gently opened the window.
It can get quite confusing doing a murder. No doubt some of the readers of this story will know what I’m talking about. Exactly which glass did I poison? Which is the handgun with the special bullet I had made out of the wedding ring? I especially sharpened the carving knife and now I’m not sure which one it was.
Melody had planned the murder of her husband in great detail. When husband Jack came out to his garden shed – he called it his “Man Den” – she would be behind the door and slash him to death with a machete. It would be (she would tell the judge) completely unplanned and in self-defence. “Spontaneous” is the word.
Jack came out to his Man Den immediately upon coming home from work. Melody went out ten minutes prior to that and waited behind the door. It was summer. It was still daylight. Melody could see the calendar pictures of scantily clad women hanging on the walls of his Man Den. It strengthened Melody’s resolve. Why he needed to still have the photo of February 2011 pinned there was anyone’s guess. Melody shivered. Ugh.
Melody heard Jack approach. He entered. She slashed wildly. There was blood everywhere; the February 2011 Calendar Girl was rightly splattered. The hacked body lay on the floor at the door. The deed was done!
Only it was the neighbour who came on Thursdays to mow the lawn.
Sadie was excited. She couldn’t believe how everything conspired to meet at the same time. She rarely wrote poems and then out of the blue she had scribbled down three. They were about Nature and saving the planet. She thought they were very good!
On the same day an advertisement appeared in the paper. It was sponsored by the National Poets’ Society. “Send three of your poems about Nature and saving the planet. We will publish a selection of the best in an anthology. From those selected we will choose one writer to be the country’s next Poet Laureate.”
The country’s official Poet Laureate was an annual appointment. Sadie knew her poems were good enough; after all she had a post-graduate degree in traditional Cornish oral poetry. She hastily emailed her poems. The results would be known in two months’ time.
Would she need to travel if she was chosen as Laureate? Would she have to move house and live in the capital city? Perhaps she should have checked these things out before sending in her submissions. She spent some time researching online, and in the end concluded that being selected would have no drawbacks for her. It was exciting to think about it!
Certainly her poems – or at least one – would be selected for the anthology. But would it take her to the next level and be chosen as Poet Laureate? How those two month’s dragged. And then she got an email:
Dear Sadie – could you write a brief paragraph about yourself? Who you are and what you have done in the past?
This was proof that she would be selected. Yes! They wouldn’t have asked for that if they weren’t going to publish.
The two month’s wait drew to a close. And then another email arrived:
Dear Sadie – thank you for your poems. You are our new Poet Laureate!
(Author’s note: Ha! Ha! Hopefully I fooled you, dear Reader, by not going in the direction you may have presumed, i.e. that she was rejected!)