Twitter
I was aghast when a colleague asked if I had been "twittered." Was this some kind of new Southern slang of which I still haven't learned? It sounded like a nice word, the way the lovely Georgia twang smoothed out delicately, gracing the air.
But so did salami sandwich.
Being originally a native New Yorker, (despite also being an upstate country girl), I knew just because it sounded pretty and innocent, did not mean (to sub-quote Sigmund Freud) a sandwich is just a sandwich. My friend Daisy is like that too. Sweet, innocent, a real lady. I admire her grace under pressure. Then we went to church and she was so exhausted from work, she was making mumbling weary comments,(mentioning fertilizer) trying not to fall asleep—which of course she did—and I had to shove her off my shoulder so she fell the other way. She works very hard; my friend, but I had to work very hard at not laughing; I failed. Maybe that was what twitter meant. To twitter-out and fall off a church pew.
I was contemplating this logical definition desperation, when came the: "Do you twitter? You need to twitter," from my colleague again.
To be fair, I have been known to "twitter," on occasion, in my own way of course. (Usually this meant reading a good romance novel or watching South Pacific as the song "Some Enchanted Evening" is sounding; bringing my heartstrings into the chorus. Yes, despite being a writer of fantasy . . . I am a romantic. So twittering . . . went in that direction of my mind.
"You follow other people—" Stalking?!!!
"—on twitter and see what they are doing. you let family and friends know what you are doing. It's fun. People who read your books like to know what you do in real life."
Sooo . . . .needless to say:
I am now twittering, on twitter, wondering what the little birdie is going to say to me; and hoping I don't eat crow by being "twitter-fied!"
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