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2002-05-07 - 1:59 p.m. Correct hypenation Nope, still not a story about Crown. Be patient people. I walk into Martin's office, looking for someone to buy me lunch and he's usually a good patsy. He has books spread out and I notice the one to his left features a picture of a toga. Oh, wait, it's a dictionary: toga, tolerance, and all those other good t-like words. (Cause Theo starts with T. Yay me.) You're trying to figure out how to spell toga? No he says I'm looking for the hyphen in tolerance. I beg your pardon? You're looking for a hyphen? Yeah, doesn't it drive you crazy when someone hyphenates incorrectly? Okay, this is Martin, who is far more AR than Kymber and definitely already has a hyphen. When did tolerance get a hyphen? No, no, no - for writing a paper. You want the columns to have nice straight edges, so you need each line to be full, so you have to break words from one line to the next. And you have to know where the syllable break is so you can put the hyphen in the right place. I collapse on the floor, convulsed in laughter. I don't think I want to buy you lunch right now, he says sulkily. (gasp) (laugh weakly) Do you know� (gasp) � you're a legend among my friends? I bought my own lunch, but it was entirely worthy it because Martin spent an additional five minutes defending how important it was to correctly hyphenate. I made him explain this to our senior engineer who also collapsed in laughter. Sweet little victories. Okay, just because you always inflict your randomness on me, I have to tell you about pantless boy. Excuse me? I say, listening to Gen's crackly voice on the other end of her cell phone. Driving home, minding my own business, but Adelphi is very slow. Why is it slow you ask? Because there is a 10 year old boy riding his bike in the middle of the road. Straight down the center yellow line, slowing traffic on either side. And he's wearing no pant. None. No pants whatesover. Surely, he's wearing underwear. Nope. No pants. Nothing. Everything swinging in the breeze. Absolutely everything. And he looks happy, very happy - grinning from ear to ear as I drove past. And I have no spare t-shirt, nothing available at all, to toss our the window at pantless boy. Two minutes later in the conversation, Gen notes police cars, fire trucks and an ambulance heading the opposite direction, towards the pantless's wonder's location. I hope he's okay. I should check the papers. I can see the Inquirer headline "Castration by Bicycle." � � Scribble to Theo previous - next �