What did this say. . .?

       Sometimes a music review doesn't quite add up.

       Three worthy artists were playing a program of trios for violin, piano and cello.  One sentence from the review reads:

       "Shostakovich, the great poet of 20th century anxiety, was also a folklorist.  Bell and Isserlis [the violinist and cellist] conveyed the sad intonations of his dancelike Jewish themes in the Allegretto finale with bittersweet urgency and a gripping life-affirming anger."

       It may not be too surprising, therefore, to find in the sub-headline that leads the review these  words:

       ". . . this ensemble's stirring and thrilling playing inspires quiet respect."


("All-star trio and argumentative couple," Los Angeles Times, May 10, 2019, Calendar Section, p. E3)

  

Unwrapping an Unconscious Rap

       For too long, I was without the map on my iPhone home page.  I needed it and somehow got it again--pulled it down, uploaded, downloaded it--I don't know.  And I suddenly, joyfully, found myself proclaiming:

"I got my Apple Map App Back!!"
 

Simple word: "Dashboard"

       I was wondering about the word "dashboard."

       You may not be surprised to know it comes from the days before "horseless carriages" (later  shortened to "car" when the "horseless" was presumed and "carriage" was too long a word for this new fast-moving motorized vehicle of maybe 30 miles an hour).

       From 1846, says etymonline, when carriages were still "horsefull" the dashboard was on the front of the carriage, not where the passengers were,  a "board or leather apron" "to stop mud from being splashed ('dashed') into the vehicle by the horse's hooves."

       Remember the wonderful Oscar Hammerstein lyrics from Oklahoma's "Surrey with the Fringe on Top":

              The wheels are yeller, the upholstery's brown,
              The dashboard's genuine leather
              With isinglass curtains you can roll right down
              In case there's a change in the weather.

Krazy Senior Reading Can Get Sticky

       I found  Krazy Glue does more than just put together balsa wood parts on a model airplane, which I learned years go; it manages to hold together plastic and metal parts as well, as so it proved today in helping repair my sunglasses.

       What Krazy Glue also made me realize today is my regular prescription glasses may need some "repair" too.  Either that, or I'm guilty of "creative," perhaps neglectful (?), misreadings.

       We all knew too Krazy Glue can get fingers to stick to one another, but I was surprised even more to see under "PRECAUTIONS":  "Avoid indigestion." What!!  I don't swallow this stuff.  A belated re-look turned the word into "ingestion." 

       Then I relaxed through more directions until I came upon " . . . contact a prison [LINE BREAK]."  WHAT again!  Rereading produced " . . . contact a poison / control center."


       

       
      

Cute twenty-something with blond curls

       Tongue-twisters come from many different places, including a random newspaper story.  A baseball player is making his first entry to the major leagues, and as the son of a former great player for the same team, he's of interest, anything about him, including Vladimir Guerrero, Jr.'s

                                     "bleached-platinum dreadlocks."

       Well, they're not so much a tongue-twister as a "mouth drencher."  Get in all those syllables distinctly, say it ten times, at moderately fast pace, and I could almost guarantee your lips will churn up a mouthful of moisture.  Not too easy to say without fumbling either.