Confusion or Confucius?

During the course of watching some talk/news show, one of the hosts stated that he was a libertarian.  I gasped. 

His moral conduct had always seemed above reproach.  His opinions were about modesty and living a good life, etc.  I mentioned this to my husband who gave it about five seconds of thought. 

“Oh, you are thinking of ‘libertine’, not ‘libertarian’.”

We looked it up:  Libertine-- one is a rake, licentious, loose in morals; and, libertarian—one who upholds the ideals of freedom.

If these two words could be confused, what other words could be added to my list?  What about these:

Warrior or voyeur

Winner or wiener

Married or mired

Insane or inane

Forge or forage

Assign or asinine

Diary or diarrhea

Philanderer or philanthropist

Pawn or porn

Largest or largesse

Military or Millinery
Marital or martial

It is not merely a matter of rhyming or homonyms.  These are words that kinda sound the same, but can border on offensive. 

My dilemma and confusion have now been solvent.

Heroes No More

Like all people who desire something besides re-runs on TV and are not willing to take a lengthy walk, we have been going to see the big name summer movies.

Source--easy on the eyes

Some are worth the walk from the car to the theater.  Some are not.  Recently we found ourselves before the silver screen to watch “Snow White and the Huntsman”.  All the actors are easy on the eyes and the action is fast.  The special effects are effective.

Source--oh, to be young again

After the movie we talked about how much we have changed.  In our youth, we could identify with an actor on the screen. 

My husband always felt pulled toward the warrior figure.  Either the archer or the man fighting valiantly with a lethal sword—those were the characters to which he aligned himself.

I was never the heroine, but I was her darn cute friend, the spunky side-kick who supported the star and kept her safe. 

But now?  We looked at each other and burst out laughing. 

Source--My husband would have the bucket, maybe.

I told my husband that we were one of the townspeople who lined the streets as the heroic figures rode by.  He would a farmer bringing turnips into the village, holding onto the harness of the donkey pulling the cart.  Or maybe he was the fishmonger.  I don't know.

Source--I would be in the back somewhere

Me?  I was the friendly baker’s wife or the grouchy woman tasked with scrubbing down the cobblestones. 

We may stick to Pixar movies for a while.  I hear “Madagascar 3” is okay.

PhotoPrompt: The Old Bin

From Delores @ thefeatherednest

The storage bin had been a part of the farm house as long as anyone could remember.  Even back many generations, that bin was there, leaning up against the barn. 

It used to store chicken feed.  Farmer Gunter got rid of the chickens after a few decades. 

Then the bin was used to keep coal before the farmer switched to propane.  He cleaned the bin out and thought about how it could be used.  He even asked his wife Bernadette what they should do with the empty bin.

Bernie launched into another harangue about him being too lazy to even think for himself, and then moved on to his other deficiencies.  The list was long.  Gunter stared at her blankly as she continued.

After some time, Gunter packed up his suitcase and gathered up all their money stored in the cellar since the Great Depression.  As he passed by the bin, he patted the lid which sported shiny new nails all around the perimeter. 

“You’re right, Bernie.  I shoulda thought of this long ago.”  Silence was his answer.