Yesterday, after an aborted attempt at jogging due to frigid temperatures, I drove down Lilly's Neck.
For those of you unfamiliar with the lingo, Lilly's Neck is a narrow point of land that juts out between a couple of creeks, as opposed to someone's actual neck.
I felt it was important to clarify that, because even though I know what a neck is (in this sense), I still find the terminology humorous because I tend to think of the literal translation first.
We also have a Tick Neck that makes it almost impossible for me to think of anything other than a tick having a neck. Which of course to the best of my knowledge they don't, unless all the pulling and twisting on one that's lodged himself in good produces something akin to a neck.
I don't know.
Readers Reader, sometimes I exhaust myself with my tangents. So it's not just you. It's me too. Definitely.)
|Do not adjust your dials. In this rare instance, the camera was perfectly level.|
During my little jaunt to Lilly's Neck, I discovered this delightful little shed leaning to one side.
For some reason, I want to say the shed is listing to one side rather than leaning. But one time, in a conversation, I was describing a boat that was listing, but I also considered saying tilting. Either of which would have been fine. However, the unfortunate result of my indecision was "The boat was lilting."
To the best of my knowledge, much like ticks not having necks, boats do not lilt, they list or perhaps they might tilt.
Sometimes they lean.
But we can be reasonably sure they don't lilt. Unless they "sing or speak rhythmically with a fluctuating pitch" or "sing or play in a lively, cheerful manner" as the dictionary says beside lilt.
Ever since this event, I've always been cautious when saying something's listing lest it come out lilting.
Who here is old enough to remember the Lilt home permanents for hair? Anyone? Who here was the victim of a really bad perm in the '80s to the point that the image staring back in the mirror was often mistaken for a poodle instead of a human?
Who here wonders how a post that started off about a cockeyed shed has drifted so far off course that it has already covered ticks, necks, fluctuating pitches, and bad home hair treatments-- all in the matter of a few paragraphs?
But wait. There's more.
Actually, my confusing tilt with list to create lilt reminds me of a story my mother tells about a Gloucester High School Spanish class where the teacher called on her for the translation of a certain word.
My mother wasn't sure whether to answer town or city, so both spilled out of her mouth in the form of one merged word that was a most unfortunate response for a timid teenager.
T (ignoring the rest of the word) + (ignore the C) ity = Mortification.
It's simple math.
Clearly this ailment of Word Merging Malfeasance runs in the family.
Let's retreat carefully from the recesses of Chesapeake Bay Woman's deteriorating brain and return to the blog post, which is really trying to progress in spite of its author's
|This is a zoomed-in of the shot above. In case anyone is still reading.|
Once I determined this
From all different angles and distances.