Pore

pore
verb, intransive. Used as "pore over" or "pore through". To be absorbed in the reading or study of. To think intently. To ponder.

After she exchanged a couple of emails with the client who contacted her after being recommended by one of her few steady customers, Lorrie settled down to an afternoon of fact-finding.

The prospect wanted several labels printed for his product displaying a logo and descriptive text. After she asked for a high-quality digital version of his logo, he admitted that he didn't have one yet, then launched into a description of what he would like. Suddenly, the job had expanded into the creation of a corporate image. Additionally, he wanted his as-yet-nonexistent logo embossed and foil-stamped on the labels.

Lorrie had been in the printing business a long time, but had never designed anything for embossing and foil-stamping. She knew enough about it to know she needed to do research before she produced any work. She spent the bulk of the next day poring over tutorials that printers with websites had had the decency to post. It didn't matter what the subject was, she thought, if you knew what to type into a search engine, you could learn a lot about it in a few hours. Fortunately, she knew so much about the industry overall that the instructions for how to prepare the art were simply an extension to what she already knew.

"I can do this," Lorrie mused as she gazed at the illustrations she had downloaded from a couple of image banks. "I can put this and this together and simplify it enough to make a gorgeous emboss. It will look wonderful under the gold foil. It will look so elegant that my fee for setting it up will seem like a bargain!"

Definitions adapted from The New Oxford American Dictionary, Oxford University Press, Inc., 2005 (eBook Edition, copyright 2008), and from Webster's Seventh New Collegiate Dictionary, G. & C. Merriam Company, Publishers, Springfield, Massachusetts, USA, 1965, depending on which is more convenient to hand.

Object

object
verb. To say something to express one's disapproval of or disagreement with something. Also a noun.

John spread the color printouts of the brochure he had written and designed over the past three days on Curt's desk, forcing his face to remain impassive. He knew this would be a great kickoff to a promotional campaign that would wrench the company out of its recent doldrums and bring in new business.

"What do you think?" he asked Curt.

Curt stared down at the sheets, showing photos of the company's equipment being operated by its employees. Descriptions of what those machines could do were placed adjacent to the photos, and specifications were included in a boxed section. The piece was designed to be folded into thirds like a business letter, sealed with a clear round tab and mailed after a name and address had been written on the back panel. John thought it was brilliant.

"I don't want to mail people something that just lists the names of the equipment and all these measurements," Curt objected, his face like stone. "That's boring! We need to promote what we can do, not what machinery we own."

"The copy can be changed," John admitted. "We can make it anything you want. What do you think of the overall appearance? Does it make you want to read the copy? If this wasn't your company, would it make you want to pick up the phone and call us for a quote?"

"No." Curt's face hadn't softened. "All I want to do is pitch it into the trash. It looks like the other dozen pieces of mail that come in here every week trying to get me to spend money."

John felt crushed, but refused to show his disappointment. "Then give me some guidance. I spent a lot of my own time on this. I just want to help the company be successful again. We have to do something!"

"This isn't it," Curt stated, finally meeting John's gaze. His eyes were cold. "You need to think out of the box if you want to impress me."

John picked up the printouts and left the room with them, hurt and bewildered. He had entered thinking that the company's descent into its third straight quarter of red ink would finally convince Curt that it was time to start advertising. He had been wrong. As he entered his studio and sat down at his computer, he shook his head. He feared he was working for a company headed for failure. If Curt wouldn't agree to advertise, it was only a matter of time. John looked at the monitor and made up his mind. Instead of eating lunch in the break room, he would stay at his desk and start searching for job openings online today, and he would do so until he found a new job. This ship was going to sink and he was determined not to go down with it.

Definitions adapted from The New Oxford American Dictionary, Oxford University Press, Inc., 2005 (eBook Edition, copyright 2008), and from Webster's Seventh New Collegiate Dictionary, G. & C. Merriam Company, Publishers, Springfield, Massachusetts, USA, 1965, depending on which is more convenient to hand.

Narcotize

narcotize
verb, transitive. To stupefy with or as if with a drug. To make something have a soporific or narcotic effect.

As Diane entered the central reading room with her classmates, her gaze ascended to the skylights in the ceiling of the vast space and for a moment, she struggled to breathe. Never, ever, not once in her brief life had she seen a place more marvelous, more filled with wonders.

She wrenched her attention to what her teacher was telling the class.

"... more than half a million books, on every subject you can think of, class ...."

Diane believed it. She could see some of them, in stacks that occupied at least half the floor of this huge room. She knew there were more somewhere else.

She knew her mouth was gaping in amazement. She didn't care. She trailed along with the other fourth-graders as Miss Zimmer led them to the globe near the information desk. It was three feet in diameter.

"Find Cincinnati for us on this globe, Gary," Miss Zimmer singled out one member of the class.

Gary stepped to the globe and turned it until the United States was uppermost. There, on the upper right quadrant of the land mass, was a shiny spot where Cincinnati, Ohio was located. So many people had pressed a finger to the globe's surface there to indicate their location on it that the paper had been worn off.

The tour continued, but the evidence of the multitudes who had entered the library and contributed to the wear and tear on the globe would be one of Diane's most vivid memories of it.

Thirteen years later, she entered the University of Cincinnati and frequently rode the bus from the campus downtown on a Saturday so she could use the library's vast resources to research a paper. It was so much more pleasant to use than the university's library, with its closed stacks and slow access system. It was impossible to browse there. Diane much preferred the public library, where a brief look in the card catalog would give her a call number or two, which were like keys to unlock a treasure. She would navigate to them in the stacks, narcotized by the subtle scent of books in the thousands--their pages, bindings and glue--and find, not only the books that bore those call numbers, but dozens more that stood near them, like relatives in a vast family gathering, waiting for her to open them and find exactly what she needed to earn that "A."

Definitions adapted from The New Oxford American Dictionary, Oxford University Press, Inc., 2005 (eBook Edition, copyright 2008), and from Webster's Seventh New Collegiate Dictionary, G. & C. Merriam Company, Publishers, Springfield, Massachusetts, USA, 1965, depending on which is more convenient to hand.

Machinate

machinate
verb, intransitive. To engage in plots and intrigues; to scheme.
verb, transitive. To plot a malicious act.

The ruckus from the saxophone section behind her erupted just as Betty and the other flutes were inhaling in preparation for the intro to the next piece. The director's arms shot outward in the signal to stop playing. Betty propped her instrument on one thigh and gazed sadly at the sheet music, following the run of notes across the page as Mr. Reynolds chastised the sax players. She was in band because she loved music and loved playing music. She didn't understand why the students who always misbehaved and disrupted practice were here.

Betty had been disappointed when seat assignments were posted after the brief auditions at the end of marching season. She had earned First Flute, but she was first in the lower band. Band members were so numerous they had to be split into two groups for concert season. The best players were in the elite "Concert Band." The dregs were relegated to the other group. They played less-challenging pieces, and that was where all the discipline problems were.

As Betty listened to the continuing noise as Mr. Reynolds tried to impose order, she made up her mind. She was getting out of this crummy band. There was a system of "challenges" set up for that purpose, and she decided to use it.

After the period ended, she went to the band office and signed up for a challenge. Mr. Reynolds didn't comment as he marked his schedule and told her what piece to practice. There would also be a sight-reading contest, on a piece neither she nor the last-seated flutist in Concert Band had seen before. There was no way to practice for that. All Betty could do in preparation for it was randomly choose pieces out of the books of popular-song sheet music she had at home and attack them.

Betty watched Jenny--the flutist she was challenging--in a class they had together the next morning and wondered if the other girl was aware that Betty was machinating to get her seat. Jenny was the better player--that Betty knew. She had taken up the flute a year before Betty had, and her parents had paid for private lessons. Betty quelled such thoughts as she focused on her class work. It still might be possible to get into the good band, if she practiced hard every day. She had begun the previous afternoon.

How would she fit practice into the the rest of the week? She had play rehearsals every day immediately after band, then the bus ride home, then dinner, chores and finally homework before bed. She had to find a way, or her plan would fail.

The speech and dramatics teacher called her and her fellow actors to rehearse their scene first that afternoon. Afterward, she approached him.

"Mr. Boyd, is it okay if I duck out for half an hour to practice for my band challenge?"

He smiled at her, wishing all his students were as hard-working and considerate as Betty. "Of course. Take longer if you wish. I have a lot of work to do on other scenes. We won't need to go through yours again until much later."

She gushed her gratitude and left the auditorium. She found an empty practice room and spent the next hour working on the challenge piece.

She repeated that process for the rest of the week. On Friday, all the practice rooms were in use, so she practiced in the stage crew's lighting equipment room.

After band on Monday, she went to the practice room Mr. Reynolds used for challenges and did a brief warm-up. Mr. Reynolds joined her, then Jenny trailed in and got her flute out of its case.

As challenger, Betty was required to play first. She performed the challenge piece with one minor flaw and was fairly pleased at the end. She knew she stood a good chance of winning, even with that mistake. She moved on to the sight-reading piece apprehensively, but it wasn't as difficult as she had feared, and she got through it without too many halts and missed notes. Betty heaved a big sigh as she finished, knowing she had done her best.

Then it was Jenny's turn. After a few bars, it was obvious to Betty that the other girl hadn't practiced the challenge piece at all. Several times, she came to a complete halt. Her tone was breathy and her fingering clumsy. How had Jenny ever gotten into Concert Band? She played the sight-reading piece even more badly than she had played the challenge piece. With no surprise, Betty nodded when Mr. Reynolds announced that Betty was to take Jenny's chair in Concert Band the following day.

It was as wonderful as she had expected it to be: a full hour of practice on interesting music, without the frequent interruptions of noisy sax or brass players. She would do anything to stay in Concert Band for the rest of the school year, and the rest of her time in high school. As they swabbed out their flutes and packed them up after practice, Betty eyed the flutist who occupied the next-to-lowest seat and narrowed her eyes. Her best insurance to achieve her goal was to challenge her and win, thus placing herself one chair out of danger.

"Might as well strike while I'm hot," she thought, and headed for the band office to sign up for another challenge.

Definitions adapted from The New Oxford American Dictionary, Oxford University Press, Inc., 2005 (eBook Edition, copyright 2008), and from Webster's Seventh New Collegiate Dictionary, G. & C. Merriam Company, Publishers, Springfield, Massachusetts, USA, 1965, depending on which is more convenient to hand.

Lament

lament
verb. To mourn a person's loss or death. To express one's deep grief about. To express regret or disappointment over something considered unsatisfactory, unreasonable or unfair.

Fran took one last look around the apartment. Now that she was leaving, she saw for the first time how cramped and shabby it was--how mean. It was an old motel converted into one-room efficiencies, after all, not a real apartment building. It had looked so perfect a few months ago when she and Richard had moved in their meagre, starter furnishings and settled down to a life comprised of going to their two jobs, then returning home to cook and eat meals, talk over their planned wedding, and fall into the double bed and enjoy sex for an hour or two before going to sleep and repeating all of it the following day.

Was that it? Had his life with her become a boring routine too quickly? Had he been unable to face the next fifty years of good meals, engrossing conversation and great sex with her? Was that why he had left? Was that why he had turned instead to a neurotic, needy college dropout with limp dishwater-blonde hair?

She stood in the doorway and turned the latch so the door would lock behind her. Nothing was left in the apartment but Richard's belongings. She pulled the door firmly to a close and turned away.

It was a long walk back to campus and her new place. She kept up a brisk pace, barely noticing the pinching of her strappy pumps. She had dressed to the nines, right down to the heels to show off the fresh pedicure, thinking that if he happened to be there when she arrived, he would get a good eyeful of what he was losing. She shook her head as she thought of the cowardly way he had ended it. He had simply disappeared. He hadn't been able to face her and tell her that he wanted to split up. Instead, he had let her wait, alone, in that cheap apartment for an entire weekend, worried, wondering what she could have done wrong, sobbing until her face looked like raw meat, the realization coming at last that he wasn't coming--not as long as she was there.

"Bastard," she whispered.

She looked around as she entered the busy commercial district that bordered the campus. She had always liked this neighborhood of little shops and cafés and now she was going to live here: live here and see what life held for her next. Richard's absence was a gaping hole in her consciousness. She knew she would miss him for a long time, and lament all the dreams for a shared future with him that now would never be, but she also knew that she would be all right. She was strong--much stronger than that depressed doormat he had cheated on her with.

Fran paused to wait for the light to change and considered her rival. Missy. Missy needed Richard, of that Fran was sure, but maybe Richard needed someone like Missy. Maybe Fran hadn't needed him enough and that was what had driven him away.

The epiphany was startling. That was it. That was the reason she had lost him. He had turned from her competent optimism to someone whose flaws and shortcomings made him feel more successful--more needed. "He dumped me because I didn't need him enough!"

It explained everything, and the afternoon sun slanting across the line of storefronts across the street suddenly looked warm and cheering. She smiled as she gazed at her new home, toying with something in the pocket of her skirt. She drew it out and realized that it was her key to the old apartment. Why hadn't she left it inside? She wasn't planning to return there, was she?

No. Not ever. It was over. She looked at the key on her palm for a moment, shocked that the clarity and resolve she had felt just a moment ago could be shaken so easily. Two steps away was a wastecan--one of those big ones with a steel hood to keep out the rain. As the light changed and traffic halted on the street before her, Fran dropped the key into the trashcan, turned away and crossed the street.

Definitions adapted from The New Oxford American Dictionary, Oxford University Press, Inc., 2005 (eBook Edition, copyright 2008), and from Webster's Seventh New Collegiate Dictionary, G. & C. Merriam Company, Publishers, Springfield, Massachusetts, USA, 1965, depending on which is more convenient to hand.

Keen

keen
verb, intransitive. To wail in grief for a dead person; to sing a keen. To make an eerie wailing sound.
Also a noun and adjective.

Lisa pulled her socks snug before she put on her rubber chore boots. She knew she was going to enter the woods and wanted plenty of protection for her legs and feet. After zipping her jacket, she picked up the night-vision scope and exited the house.

They had noticed the marker two days ago when they drove up the road toward home: a row of five empty glass bottles, half-sunk in the dirt just beyond the ditch. The following day, Jim had seen three men in the woods adjacent to the bottle landmark, studying the ground and obviously looking for something. He and Lisa had determined that soon, the men would return after dark to dig up whatever they were searching for. She wanted to spy on them, if they did. Hence, her rising at two in the morning and preparing for this nocturnal excursion.

She had never used the night-vision scope before. It was a monocular about the size and weight of a pair of binoculars. She experimented with it as she trudged up the dirt road, accompanied by the two dogs. When she turned on the infrared beam, both dogs stopped in their tracks and turned to look at her. "Interesting," she thought. She had not known dogs could see infrared light. She turned the beam off so it wouldn't betray her presence.

Lisa estimated that the distance to the bottles was about three-quarters of a mile. She reached the T-intersection of the road she lived on and turned right onto the more-heavily-traveled gravel road. An unexpected sound stopped her. She wasn't sure what it had been, and lowered the scope to better concentrate on what she was hearing. For a moment all was silent, then the noise recurred: a car's tires, crunching gravel underneath. "Rats," she thought. "Someone's coming up the road."

The last thing she wanted was to be seen by one of their neighbors, out at two o'clock in the morning with a night scope. How could she explain it? "I'm just going down to the drug-dealers' meeting spot, or their money drop, so I can watch them, if they happen to be there." It sounded utterly foolish, even though it had seemed a good idea before she had left the house.

She plunged into the woods and fought her way through the undergrowth until she was several yards from the road. She kept her back toward it so the car's headlights wouldn't reflect off her glasses and betray her presence. She waited until the car had sped past, reviewing her options. If there was one car, there might be more. Whoever it was hadn't slowed or stopped at the bottle landmark. The men who had placed it could return while she was on the road, and how did she know they didn't have night-vision scopes themselves? She was on a fool's errand.

She struggled back to the road and turned toward home, listening to every noise now, in case another car approached. Suddenly, a coyote keened, somewhere nearby. She froze and looked for her dogs. They were nowhere to be seen! "Thanks, guys," she muttered aloud. "I thought you were supposed to protect me." Scanning the dark landscape around her with her scope, she sped up, hurrying toward the lights and safety of her house.

Definitions adapted from The New Oxford American Dictionary, Oxford University Press, Inc., 2005 (eBook Edition, copyright 2008), and from Webster's Seventh New Collegiate Dictionary, G. & C. Merriam Company, Publishers, Springfield, Massachusetts, USA, 1965, depending on which is more convenient to hand.