Harbinger

After Tuesday morning's madcap adventures at the ophthalmologist (far too many "h"s in that word if you ask me) it was back to the familial encampment for to pick up my lunch and ascertain if it would be wise, even prudent, to drive myself to work.

The Missus Herself had arisen early for to take Yours Truly up to the big city of Providence, what with the anticipated dilation of eyes and the like which had been foretold by the seer. (Actually a letter came in the mail indicating that I should expect to have my eyes dilated and for the visit to take up to two hours. Which it did.)

While Doc One has a very competent staff, good lads all, they are, nevertheless, lads. While I adhere to the Seinfeldian philosophy of non ut illic 'mali nihil quod*, I don't swing that way. Now at Doc Two's office the very second thing** I noticed was the comeliness of the receptionist. Very hübsch she was, as was the other receptionist, as was the lady who first examined my optical sensors.

I noted that, other than Doc Two, all of the staff were female. Made the visit much more pleasant, though my eyes were numbed and dilated, I looked rather owlish, truth be told.

But the visit confirmed the findings of Doc One, of the mostly male staff, so it is to be surgery. No magic elixirs, no potent potables, no sorcery will bring back clear vision to my oculus sinister. Until such time as he can be mended (the technique to be used has yet to be revealed to me, perhaps a trip to the Oracle at Delphi is in order, or I could just call Doc One, which I shall do Wednesday, as in domani), oculus dexter will have to soldier on as best he can. Good lad that Dex.

Anyhoo, that rather long winded preamble leads me to the title of the post and the vision which inspired it. As I was saying, went home, grabbed my lunch (lovingly made by the love of my life, Virginia ham and a bit of Hoffmann sharp cheddar on dark bread, plus grapes, a bunch of grapes) and determined that with the use of sunglasses I was more than capable of driving myself to the salt mines. As I went out from the location to the vehicle (cop talk, love it) I noticed that various and sundry leaves on one of the weeping cherry trees were donning their fall coloration.

"What ho?" cried I. "Looks like a sign that autumn doth approacheth!" (I really do talk like that at times, not generally in public, and usually when there is no one listening.)

"A harbinger of the turn of the seasons!"

I really like the word "harbinger," it does not get used enough in my opinion. While I knew the meaning, I was curious as to its provenance, so I looked it up, and here's what I found -

Middle English: from Old French herbergere, from herbergier ‘provide lodging for,’ from herberge ‘lodging,’ from Old Saxon heriberga ‘shelter for an army, lodging’ (from heri ‘army’ + a Germanic base meaning ‘fortified place’), related to harbor. The term originally denoted a person who provided lodging, later one who went ahead to find lodgings for an army or for a nobleman and his retinue, hence, a herald (mid 16th century).

Figured Beans would like that, him being all Medieval and the like. Speaking of Beans, here's the scene where I explain to Captain Vacation what he and Juvat are to do with Beans while I'm recovering from the surgical adventure. Not sure how LUSH feels about all that...

Yes, expect short rations while this eye thing is going on, when I am truly hors de combat, the lads will have lots of good stuff pour vous, so they tell me.



* Sorry, but you'll have to look up all of today's foreign words and phrases, here. And yes, I am feeling a bit lethargic today, thank you for asking.
** The first thing being what a nicely architected building the offices were in. Couldn't notice the content until I'd seen the packaging now could I?