The Rich Fabric Of This Hiatus

Can you believe we really have words like "warp" and "woof"? I can't believe it. But as insane as it sounds, I guess it's true. Look it up. You'll see that whoever those guys are who use words, they'll be using these ones too, as they comment on "the warp and woof" of such and such.

To me it sounds like a perverted dog, one who rubs himself on guests, as in he's warped and he occasionally woofs. You get one warped enough -- not just perverted but evil -- and woofing enough, you put a heavy chain on him and drag him down to the Army recruiter. They need dogs like that in the various concentration camps our government runs.

Just a lot of woofing isn't enough to put one away. In fact your dog might be trying to tell you something if he woofs a lot. Because no one monitors territory like a dog. They're very territorial. And instinctual. They can read urine like DNA. They can detect subtle clues as to people's intentions. So when the fur stands up on your dog's back, that's a very good sign.

But "warp and woof" don't actually have anything to do with dogs, but with fabric. Fabric is made up of string going one way then another. If it goes one way it's the "warp" and if it goes the other it's the "woof." And if you turn it around the opposite is true. Like left and right. You might be the woof from one angle but you're the warp from another. So it gets confusing. Except what we're interested in is the finished product, once the warping and woofing is done, and we don't care what they call it.

The phrase gets applied to something like a figure of speech, to say what really makes up something. So you could have the warp and woof of meat, let's say, the straight meat of the bacon could be the warp, and the fat globby portions the woof. I believe so.

I've been re-reading my hiatus posts and I'm amazed at the rich fabric of them. Such emotion! Such passion! It's all so fascinating it deserves to be published -- maybe handwritten by very old, very skillful monks while chanting -- then preserved in a richly decorated, fabric hardback book about the size of a family Bible.

The outer fabric would have its warp and woof and be lush, lavish. But the real "fabric," if you catch my drift, would be the contents, with big decorative capital letters to start the first paragraph, etc. Like today, my first sentence starts with "Can you believe...", it'd be an enormous "C" to start the page, with some color and crosshatching. I love it!

The hiatus is going well. I've calmed down since whenever it was the last time that I was riled up about it. You can hear it in my voice, the cadence of confidence, renewed playfulness, restless creativity brimming over, and humor that sweeps over the entire production. I'm winking at everyone! I'm as light as a bee skimming over a field of nothing but flowers. My big old book needs to be scented with a floral scent.