Henry Phillips

prolix
\proh-LIKS\
adjective

1 : unduly prolonged or drawn out : too long
2 : marked by or using an excess of words

There's no way to talk about "prolix" without being redundant, verbose, and wordy. That's because the word is a synonym of all of those terms. Of those words, "prolix" is the one most likely to suggest unreasonable and tedious dwelling on details. It derives from prolixus, a Latin term meaning "extended" or "copious." Prolixus originated from a combination of the prefix pro- (which means "forward") and the past participle of liquēre, a verb meaning "to be fluid." True to that history, something that is prolix flows on and on.

I do believe I have a tendency to resemble this remark. Although I hope that my attention to details is neither unreasonable nor tedious.

( Flick )

If you have no other plans and find yourself with the spirit of service, please join me next Wednesday at the Jubilee Soup Kitchen to serve those in need a Thanksgiving feast beyond compare!

( Sam and Cass )

( Cass, Sam )

Well, that was one seven I'll be glad no to repeat any time soon.

With all the talk of zombies, Hank figured it would be for the best if he went to the Arches complex early Monday morning and checked in at the medical center. He spent most of the day in pleasant conversation with the staff there, administered some flu shots and some basic first aid.

It wasn't until he was returning from the cafe around sunset with a carrier full of coffees that he had the first clue that something had gone dreadfully wrong. A woman was coming toward him, blood smearing her blonde hair. "Zombie..." she whimpered.

Hank ushered her into the center and got her quickly checked in then sent around a quiet word to the staff. The coffee was forgotten, sleeves were metaphorically rolled up and everyone prepared for the worst.

Which was pretty much what they got. Stabbings, gunshots, deep scratches. Broken and bleeding, they poured in.

It wasn't until the sun was beginning to rise on Tuesday that Hank even remembered to think about anything other than the patients that had poured in. He reached for one of the abandoned coffees and made a face. It was cold and bitter but he drank it down anyway.

As an aside, the hospital (and my office specifically) will be giving away free flu shots until the end of the month. If you're debating whether to get one, please remember this statistic:

The CDC says the flu leads to 200,000 hospitalizations and 36,000 deaths a year. A reported 83 children died from the flu in the 2007-2008 flu season.

And don't let a fear of needles stop you. I have several doses of FluMist available as well.

( Private )

Word for the day:

hypocorism
1: a pet name
2: the use of pet names

In Late Latin and Greek, the words hypocorisma and hypokorisma had the same meaning as hypocorism does currently. Hypocorism joined the English language in the mid-19th century and was once briefly a buzzword among linguists, who used it rather broadly to mean the altered speech adults use when supposedly imitating babies. But that and hypocorism settled back into being just a fancy word for a pet name.

( Jack )

( Jay )

I believe those who, in the past, have wondered -- sometimes in my presence -- what my thinking processes were like have had more than ample time to stop wondering today. In fact, I know at least one was quite irritated with me -- and then himself -- only a few moments into our conversation, odd as it was. It seems what I consider a simple process of elimination is, in fact, not simple at all. I should add, that those who find my verbal patterns "old-fashioned" or "quaint" or "obtuse" would, no doubt, find my mental patterns doubly so. On the whole, the day, though frustrating, was rather fascinating. Still, I will be glad when midnight comes. The quiet will be appreciated by all.

I'm quite glad I started taking sevens off. There are many things in the operating room that would not go well with my current form. And somehow I don't think plastic scapels would be as effective.

September sunshine ...
the hovering dragonfly's
shimmering shadow

~ KARO

Autumn is upon us; the seasons change; time moves at the pace that it will. The circle turns and life goes on.

( Con )

Now this is good news! The Food and Drug Administration has finally approved the first anti-nausea patch for chemotherapy patients! It's worn like a nictotine patch on the patient's arm and deliveres granisetron through the skin. It should provide relief for up to five days.

I admit: I quite enjoyed the carnival this week. This leads me to believe that perhaps I should invest more time in amusement parks.

( Drew )


Oh dear. I seem to be having a wing of the hospital named after me. I hadn't expected that.

( Jack )

"Light is meaningful only in relation to darkness, and truth presupposes error. It is these mingled opposites which people our life, which make it pungent, intoxicating. We only exist in terms of this conflict, in the zone where black and white clash."

Louis Aragon
1897 – 1982

With the current weather, I thought this was most appropriate:

maelstrom \MAYL-struhm\, noun:
1. A large, powerful, or destructive whirlpool.
2. Something resembling a maelstrom; a violent, disordered, or turbulent state of affairs.

Maelstrom comes from obsolete Dutch maelstroom, from malen, "to grind, hence to whirl round," + stroom, "stream."

Somehow it managed to escape my attention that the new school year was drawing so close; I don't believe I've ever given out so many shots in my life. My apologies to those who I might have made social appointments with but not appeared for. Things seemed to have calmed down now and my schedule has returned to its normal hours.

Hank woke up to the insistent buzzing of the doorbell. He greeted the delivery driver with a confused expression, signed for the large box and headed for the couch.


"Good morning, mother," he said when he saw the return address. "What have you sent me?"

He sliced open the tape with practiced ease and pulled a letter out from among the packing peanuts.

Dear Henry –

Father and I were cleaning out the far corners of the attic when we found a box with your name on it. We were, of course, surprised. I thought we'd shipped the last of your things to you ages ago. Imagine our increased surprise when we found this treasure trove of books from your childhood…

Hank blinked, read that paragraph again and then set the letter aside in favor of digging through the peanuts to see what was buried underneath.

"Oh my stars and garters! My original copy of To Kill a Mockingbird!" He gently opened the book and leafed through the browning pages, inhaling that scent that old books always seemed to have. He set that aside too with a loving pat and continued to reveal book after book: Where the Wild Things Are followed next, then The Silent Spring, Jonathan Livingston Seagulland finally, a much-read biography of Vince Lombardi.

He picked up the letter from his mother again and continued to read.

… Anyway, I'm sure you've already replaced these, but I know how you are about books, dearest, and I couldn't just throw them away. I hope they bring you continued joy.

Father sends his love and do I. We look forward to seeing you again soon.

Mom.

Hank looked over at the small pile of books and smiled giddily. They were definitely going to bring him continued joy.

Apparently, Jane felt I had not satisfactorily completed my shopping while in England: She's sent me two complete kilts.