Book Review: You Are a Tree

I always appreciate learning about books that my friends recommend on Good Reads. My friend, Sarah Ilsters, posted about this book. I'm grateful I found an audio copy available on Hoopla. The book contained so much to glean that I also accessed the eBook version and took notes.

In You Are a Tree, Clarkson explores various metaphors we use for things like wisdom, depression, love, and faith. One reviewer found it too heady, but for this English major graduate, it was a pure delight to delve into the words we use to explain and understand our lives and our faith. Metaphors help us express profound concepts. In this book, the author explores seven metaphors, many of which feel very familiar (people as trees, wisdom as light, life as a journey). But her words, expounding on these ideas, are ripe with meaning. She discusses our drive to be productive, as we so often see ourselves as machines. The Bible is chock-full of metaphors to help us understand God and His ways.

I was eager to access the eBook besides listening to the audio. At the end of each metaphor chapter, Clarkson offers resources to explore in connection with the ideas she has presented. These sections provide a prayer, an activity, a list of paintings, films, poems, podcasts, etc. to consider, and an explanation of why she recommends them. They were rich and provided a great jumping-off place. Excellent books move you to incorporate and personalize what you've read.

What a joy to take apart words and examine how we use them to elaborate on what we experience! I loved how she used scripture to flesh out ideas of wisdom and light. Her words on journeys and sadness moved me. This is a book I would love to own to highlight passages and explore the suggestions for further consideration. At the end, Clarkson provides further reading to accompany each chapter. I could spend hours thinking about the metaphors discussed in this articulate and engaging book!

Nostalgic Nod to a Funny Fellow

When I started my blog, the title Of Books and Boys was perfect. It reflected the two primary loves in my life. Perhaps I need a new handle or even a new blog. After all, the cute little stories of the past have given way to much more difficult tales in the present, and teen boys don't really want to be the subject of my ramblings. Still, despite the bad early writing (often dashed off between midnight and 2 a.m.), I'm glad I captured those warm fuzzies in days gone by. I mean, my middle son was such a funny little fellow! He was a parrot who often spouted random things. Here are a few zingers from his younger days:

"Don't just dream of beautiful skin; make it real!" (from a Proactiv commercial, I realized a few days later)

Walked up to his dad and said: "Do you care to see my butt?" (Perhaps from my constant admonishment, "Nobody cares to see your butt!")

When I refused to buy him something in the store: whining, glare, and then a hostile "You, MOM YOU!"

When I complained how long the dishes were taking to wash: "Why don't you sing the Spiderman song? It will make your work go faster."

While at Buffalo Wild Wings watching the big-screens: "Look! Look! There are holograms!" to which I responded, "You're only six; how do you know about holograms?" With a duh look - "From Scooby Doo." I pursued further, "So, what is a hologram then?" He looked at me and lowered his head, saying, "I'm not going to spill ALL my secrets in a public place."

After desperately looking for a lost toy, he cried out, "Mom, I found it! And there, standing in the moonlight, was THIS!" When I asked what prompted those words, he shook his head and replied, "Mom, it's from the weiner dog book, remember? 'And there, standing in the moonlight, were a couple of ornery cats.'" (from Dav Pilkey's The Hallo-Weiner)

Let's just say I'm needing a nostalgic look back as we plod forward these days.

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Side-line up-date:

My oldest son, Bryce, lives in Houston, Texas. On Sunday night, February 14th, both his power and water were shut off. Thankfully, he managed to stay warm enough in layers, saved the food in the fridge by placing it on the balcony, and flushed toilets using water from the apartment's pool. His power came back on February 16th and his water was restored on February 18th. He called last night. Today will be his first day off in ten days after working ten hour days in attempts to get his workplace plant back up and running. He said they had little advance warning that the power was going to be shut off, so they didn't perform any of the normal preparations for such an event. It is an absolute mess (broken pipelines, sewage, etc.) and so many of the chemical plants in Houston are facing similar dilemmas. - Bigger boys, bigger problems.

On the home front:

I didn't notice anything as we drove to the ranch yesterday morning, but on the drive home discovered two house frames have gone up on the field next to us. Oh, how discouraging! It is happening so quickly. Our little oasis in the country turning into chock-a-block homes just across from our front meadow.

Book Review: Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life

Don't let the title fool you! Amy Krouse Rosenthal lived anything but an ordinary life. She was a powerhouse individual and the more I read about her, the better I like her. In one of the first pages of this book, the publisher notes that if you read this book and the author thanked you by e-mail, you could add your name to a list at the book's website (although that website seems to have disappeared). How cool would that have been! Still, I wonder if I would have taken the time to write this author a letter if I had read the book before she died in 2018.

I love the structure of this book - love the encyclopedia entry concept. The humor is delightful. Indeed, I read aloud one passage to my boys (the bit about her brother, who grew up in a house full of girls, belatedly discovering he didn't need to wear his towel around his chest - ha). This "alphabetized existence" is, like the author, extraordinary.

I noted so many interesting intersections. Amy was born less than one month ahead of me. She lived in Chicago (I spent my teen and college years in and around Chicago), in an area I'm familiar with. My brother lived at The Salvation Army School for Officer's Training, very close to Wrigley field. She loved words. She was best friends with another children's author I adore: Charise Mericle Harper (author of the Just Grace series Sean and I devoured when he was younger). Sadly, we never intersected in real life. Still, I'm glad I found her husband's memoir and then her memoir - both satisfying eavesdropping adventures.

Book Review: These Fevered Days

I wish I had what it takes to be a poet. Condensing ideas and images down to the bare bones doesn't come easily for me. Even though I'm a musician, when I attempt rhythm I often create a sing-song sound. I rarely select poetry when looking for things to read. Most of what I've read resulted from literature course requirements. After attempting to write poetry, this book on the "making of Emily Dickinson" stood out to me in the recent acquisition list at my library.

These Fevered Days outlines ten "pivotal moments" that changed Emily Dickinson and propelled some of her writings. She is definitely an interesting character. I had always imagined her seclusion was total. This book clarified times when she left her house, even living in a boarding house for treatment of her eyes when threatened with blindness. This is a perfect book for anyone intrigued by a writer with no desire to see any of her work published. The irony made me laugh. I'm a piss-poor poet passionately pursuing publication while she, a master wordsmith, held her words tightly and refused to release them to the world. I wept when I read that her instructions included burning all of her papers after her death. Thank goodness, her relatives ignored that decree.

So many things I cannot imagine: writing without dating her material, sending some poems to individuals in letters without recording them first for herself, and hearing praise yet fighting for privacy. Even choosing to live such an austere and limited life while her imagination and command of language soared boggles my mind. Some things make me chuckle in recognition: writing on odd scraps of paper and then losing track of those pieces or their importance, keeping some masters of letters sent to others, despising the commotion of guests and callers, and the immensity of fear when faced with failing vision (no reading? no writing? How could one live?). This book was a treat!

Book Review: The Painted Word

How eloquently Arthur Plotnik (author of another book I'll now seek, The Elements of Expression: Putting Thoughts into Words) puts his praise of this book:

"If The Painted Word were a club act, I'd sit there drinking in Cousineau's revelations, tales and mythologies until they kicked me out of the joint. Reading this brew of etymology, history, lore, and pop connections, with lambent illustrations by Gregg Chadwick, is just as intoxicating. A Cousineau riff on a (passionately selected) word is like Mark Twain meets Coleridge meets Casey Stengel meets - well, everyone who's fun and informative, whether the riff is on autologophagist (someone who eats his/her words) or jack, which, believe me, the world-traveled Cousineau knows when it comes to language."

I thoroughly enjoyed reading Cousineau's entries on words, their usage and their origins. Moreover, as I perused the author's other works list (35), his prolific and intriguing interests astounded me. He offers so many interesting ideas and supporting quotes. For instance:

"Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting with the gift of speech." Suetonius, 2nd century

For the entry on flabbergast (amaze, astonish, surprise) - Ogden Nash's lines: "First/ Let the rockets flash and the cannon thunder,/ This child is a marvel, a matchless wonder./ A staggering child, a child astounding,/ Dazzling, diaperless, dumbfounding,/ Stupendous, miraculous, unsurpassed,/ A child to stagger and flabbergast,/ Bright as a button, sharp as a thorn,/ And the only perfect one ever born./ Second/ Arrived this evening at half-past nine./ Everybody is doing fine./ Is it a boy, or quite the reverse?/ You can call in the morning and ask the nurse."

Or a Maya Angelou quote: "You shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back."

He highlights collective nouns: a zeal of zebras, or lesser known human ones an oversight of academics, a brood of researchers or a scrum of philosophers.

Concerning the word "feisty" - a word I've often used to describe my tenacious mother-in-law who will climb a ladder to clean windows when we've asked her not to - I had no idea the word was originally associated with the word "fart" and really means more "snappy, nervous, belligerent, fiery, frisky, or spunky."

Did you know that a trombone was once called a "sackbut?" We can actually find it in Scripture: Daniel 2:3. Or did you know that there's a word for the stars we see when we bump our heads? ("phosphenes") In his last book, I found a delightful German word for coward. This time, the author provides another curious word for coward - "quakebuttock" - I'm such a quakebuttock!

He presents a whole host of words I'm sure I learned from my mother: hifalutin, hoity-toity, hob-nob, holy-moly, fancy-schmancy, hunkydory, ignoramus, inkling, kit and caboodle, etc. Such fun words. This book provides an absolute treasure trove for anyone who loves to digest, encounter, or learn new words, the tools of a writer's trade!

Book Review: Word Catcher

I suffer from logophilia! Indeed, I love words. They are delicious and learning new ones is a delight. This book solved a current dilemma. One of my sons has been tankmanning and it has left me flakhappy. Focusing on anything is a challenge and I tend to fribble the hours away (I suppose I'm not fribbling, since I'm praying for parental wisdom). I should really thole it better, but alas I don't. I'm not as resilient as I once was. Perhaps I am too much of a handschuhschneeballwerfer (don't you love that word for coward, roughly translated from German as one who wears gloves to throw snowballs). But, let me apologize. I'm being a wordmonger.

What a delightful book, easily consumed in small sittings with a limited attention span. Phil Cousineau provides a plethora of fascinating words and their origins in this book, Word Catcher: An Odyssey Into the World of Weird and Wonderful Words. I enjoyed learning about various fears and psychological states: aphilophrenia, the haunting feeling that one is unloved; arachibutyrophobia, the fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of the mouth; hippomonstrosesquipedaliophobia, the fear of long words; kakorrhapphiophobia, the fear of failure; and callomania, the delusion that one is beautiful. I have often suffered from esprit de l'escalier: a brilliant comeback that comes to mind too late. Such delectable terms!

If you delight in dissecting phrases and expressions, you will love this book. It is a privilege to be a wordcatcher, playing a game of catch with Phil Cousineau. He has compiled a veritable treasure in this volume. Pick it up! You won't be discontented and your vocabulary will surely expand. I was thrilled to discover a similar book he has written called The Painted Word. Onward to more words!

Book Review: The Professor and the Madman

I've been longing to read this book, The Professor and the Madman: A Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary, by Simon Winchester. I have fond memories of using the OED in my job at the Wade Center (the collected writings of 7 British, Christian authors). It was a remarkable reference tool - a multi-volume treasury of words! I never gave one thought to the lengthy process required to compile all those words and sentences. Having grown up with dictionaries, I couldn't conceive of a world without one.

What a fascinating tale! The seventy-year project (1857 to 1927) required many hours of research and investigation. Its editor, Professor James Murray, sent out a bid for volunteers. These individuals scoured books for early references and sentences that might articulate and support the meanings of various terms. One volunteer was an American, Dr. William Chester Minor. The good doctor's story was every bit as interesting as the illustrative quotes accumulated.

I'm still pondering the implications of the timing. If Dr. Minor hadn't served in the American Civil War, would his insanity have taken hold? Did he merely have a genetic predisposition for his paranoid mental instability? Without his insane act of murder, would he have had the freedom and time to devote to his thorough scouring of books for source material? What a sad life. Yet what a grand accomplishment!

Although the movie version received mixed reviews (trailer here), I will probably watch it at some point if it comes to Netflix or my library.

In Defense of Cory Asbury's "Reckless Love"

Lately, I have been fixated on a popular song airing on the Christian radio stations: Cory Asbury's "Reckless Love." I'll admit, I was caught - hook, line, and sinker - pulled in by the beauty of the melody and the intensity of the expression of God's love.



Thus, I posted my affection for the song on Facebook (something I rarely do). I know that I'm not alone in my attraction. One of the announcers on the station I currently tune to exclaimed that it was the number one song request these days. Moreover, the official lyric version on You Tube has received over 21 million hits. Billboard pegged it the number one song on their US Top Christian Songs list for eleven weeks running.

Apparently, this song is creating quite a stir. Theologians are jumping to urge worship leaders to forego use of the song because of the questionable word "reckless," with its negative connotations. In a recent interview with John Piper, a listener asks "Is the term 'reckless' too reckless?" Piper discusses his issues with the word and outlines all the possible meanings attributed to the term. But that's the problem in a nutshell. Words have multiple meanings. You can only discern the intended meaning of the word by interpreting it within its context.

I honestly don't understand how people are getting their haunches up over the possible connotations of a single word in a song that clearly demonstrates the unfathomable extent of God's love. If you actually take the time to understand the song in its entirety, you cannot misunderstand the intended meaning. He is not saying that God's love is risky or feckless, or that God doesn't know the outcome. He is not implying that God could have made a mistake in choosing to love us or that His act of love on our behalf was ill-advised. Moreover, I don't believe he is saying it was a careless act.

The lyrics as a whole point to the use of the word in the synonymous form of "audacious," "impetuous," or - my take on the word - "relentless." His love is, indeed, "overwhelming" and "never-ending" - it "chases me down," "fights 'til I'm found," and pays it all, for me! It gives without any concern for whether it will be accepted or denied. I'm convinced there would have been nary a dot of hub-bub if the author had penned the word "relentless," instead.

I guess what rankles me the most is that individuals who go against this song because a particular word raises negative connotations for them seem to be presenting themselves as the sole judge of whether a fellow Christian is theologically sound or theologically defective. There is that implied sense of "Well, I wouldn't sing those words because they are not biblical." Surely there is much to be gained by a song that directs even unbelievers to the audacious, unexpectedly impetuous, and relentless love of God. And isn't there enough divisiveness in the church already? Do we need to add the additional friction of pointing fingers at others who can sing these words with integrity in their hearts?

As for me, I don't see these lyrics as "theologically defective." To me, this song is highly reminiscent of the beloved poem, "The Hound of Heaven," by Francis Thompson. That poem begins with the famous lines:

"I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him ...
From those strong feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbed pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat ..."

The poem communicates the relentless pursuit of God for one of His own, just as this song does. And, it highlights our lack of worth, just as "Reckless Love" does ("I couldn't earn it; I don't deserve it; still You give Yourself away"):

"How hast thou merited -
Of all man's clotted clay the dingiest clot?
Alack, thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art!
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee.
Save Me, save only Me!"

I'm thankful for that love that recklessly pursued me. I'm thankful for a song that reminds me of the intensity of God's love. And I don't think I'm being "unfaithful" by enjoying or singing along with Cory Asbury's song. So, as for me, I will recklessly continue to sing along.

Book Review: Morningstar

I stumbled on this book, Morningstar, as it stared out at me from the recent acquisition shelf. I must confess I've never heard of the author, but the sub-title jumped out: "Growing Up with Books." If you're a bibliophile like me, you cannot walk past such words. Besides, it was a slim volume and I knew my days were going to be chock full of writing for my November Nanowrimo challenge (yes, I'm still attempting that, even though I started out quite behind the word count goal on November 11th).

What an entertaining and delightful quick read! The book is divided into ten lessons: things like "How to Become a Writer," "How to Buy Books," and "How to Fall in Love With Language." Of course, I don't really require any assistance to do those things. They come quite naturally. Still, it was fun to read about Ann Hood's interactions with various books. Books made her aware of class differences, sex, politics, and war. While I wasn't wholly familiar with all the books mentioned (had never heard of the book, Marjorie Morningstar, that lends the title to this volume), I could entirely relate to her sentiments upon finding such books.

This was a love song to books and to reading. Just like the author, I have read books that caused me to stand up and say, "Really? Me, too!" I may not be able to express my passion with the eloquence Hood musters, but I share her sentiments through and through. If you love books, you'll love this one!

Nanowrimo Winner 2014

I can check off Nanowrimo Number Six. I completed the final words on my Nanowrimo manuscript on Friday morning, topping the manuscript out at 51,824 words. I am very happy with how it turned out and really can't wait to dig in for the revision stages (although I will put it off for at least six weeks in order to approach the manuscript with fresh eyes).

I also recently took one of my YA manuscripts to a member of my Young Adult book club for her review. She came back with wonderful comments, saying I really caused the action to come alive in her head and that she truly fell in love with my main character. She said that I nailed the voice of the male narrator well. She added that she hopes I plan on working on a sequel to that novel (something I haven't considered and don't know if I will because I, myself, don't see the main character further along than where his trials have taken him thus far).

Now, I can relax and enjoy the holidays, knowing I have another rough draft manuscript to return to in the new year. My friend Anne has written two more children's books and I agreed to be a member of her launch team for each of them. I finally feel like I have time to devote to reading her manuscripts and providing some feedback and reviews for her. Let the holiday shopping, Christmas card sending, house cleaning and decorating begin! I'm in a good spot for it! Plus, there's a present in the mail, since I ordered a Nanowrimo winner t-shirt before I even completed the challenge (I was pretty sure I could do it again).

Losing Sight of the Person Behind the Problem

On Sunday, I had a BAD day. One of the things that played a role in the demise of my mood was a misplaced credit card. I was cleaning out my purse and handing over the week's receipts to my husband. It became clear that the card was nowhere to be found. I had to mention it to my husband (looking back, I'm thinking I should have waited until I had been searching for more than fifteen minutes).

I dread situations like this. He is extremely careful with his receipts and his money. Indeed, if I so much as leave the change from my pockets on my dresser top, it will disappear. I am not nearly so careful. Often I will drop the change I am given right into my purse, assuming that at the end of the week, I will clean it all out and put everything right again.

So, here I was with a cleaned out purse, and a missing credit card. Once he knew, the pressure was on. I couldn't even remember where I had used it last. He was immediately ready to call the company and cancel the card. I begged for time to search various coat pockets and dresser tops, etc. However, all those searches came to naught. He became more frantic. I became more upset - both upset with my mistake and upset with his reaction.

On the third or fourth scouring of my purse, I found the card. It had slipped into a zippered section of the purse that I rarely use and didn't realize was unzipped. The relief should have made the day better. Instead, I began to stew over the unfairness of his perfection and my irresponsibility.

He came to apologize. I would like to say that I graciously accepted the apology and everything was mended. Alas, my pride was too big for that and I chose to simmer in my own resentment.

Cue this morning.

We have been having some horrible nights lately. Trevor wakes in a panic about three or four times a night and wants ME to come lie with him. Up until last weekend, I was so focused on the problem that I ceased to see the sweet child behind it. It was literally ruining every night's sleep. Thankfully, a blogging friend helped redirect my focus.

Swistle recently posted about a similar nightly battle going on in her household with her five year old daughter. It was comforting to know that this falls in the spectrum of normal parental issues and helpful to read all the comments and suggestions. As a result, I put down an extra comforter and a sleeping bag for Trevor to crawl into on those nights when he needs to be near me.

The first night, it worked famously. He crept in, slid into his spot on the floor next to me and my sleep was uninterrupted. Last night, however, he would not be satisfied until Daddy left to sleep on the couch and gave up his side of our bed. Sean awoke and sensed that his brother had flown the coop, so he came in and slept on the bed roll on the floor. They both have serious colds and major nasal congestion, so I had two snoring, sniffling, grunting boys last night and VERY LITTLE SLEEP.

This morning, I gave up on sleep around 6:30 and (sensing my absence) both little boys rose around 6:45 a.m. Within minutes, Trevor was seated at a tray in front of the television with his breakfast. Alas, he must not have slept very well either. He sat staring at the television for more than half an hour and I became more frantic with each moment, spurring him to hurry with eating, to brush his teeth, to take some cold medicine and get on his shoes, coat, hat, gloves, and backpack.

In the end, the flashing lights of the bus were looming, I was screaming about how watching television causes him to dawdle and miss the bus, and he was in a heap on the floor crying and trying to quickly put on his shoes (which only made him move MORE SLOWLY). In the midst of all this stress, Sean let the dog out of the crate and he was communicating his need to be taken outside to do his duty. Trevor missed the bus!

I took the dog outside and breathed deeply. As the air cleared my head, I saw so very clearly that I had just reacted in the same way that had damaged me on Sunday. I had lost sight of Trevor in the problem of his missing the bus. In fact, I had magnified the problem so much that I couldn't see him behind it.

I came inside and resolved to eat my humble pie. Trevor was already waiting in the cold van. I climbed in the back seat with him and dried his tears.

"I owe you an apology, buddy," I said. "I'm sorry I yelled and got all upset. Missing the bus isn't the end of the world, but I made it look like that and that wasn't fair to you! I'm sorry that I lost my temper. I'm sorry that I hurt you in making the problem look way bigger than it really was."

I'm pretty sure this is a lesson I'll have to revisit a time or two. But for now, I'm really going to work on magnifying the person instead of the problem.

As for Sunday, Swistle had another good post to consider. She and another blogging friend exchanged "Crappy Day Gifts." These are a series of gifts, ranked according to level of difficulty. You save the gifts for an especially bad day, when such a gift can really smooth out the ruffled feathers of life. Swistle, like me, had a really, really bad day and opened one of her "Crappy Day Gifts," to discover a box of See's chocolates. I'm thinking THAT would have gone a long way to make up for the little credit card blunder (and everything else that soured that day). Then again, maybe I need to adjust my perception of what makes a crappy day. I noted that Swistle updated the story with a new post on the crappy day gifts and this crappy day, which she designated as medium made my crappy day look like a good day. Yikes.

Still, I'm wondering if there is anyone out there in cyber-land who might want to exchange crappy day gifts with me? If not, at least remember to magnify the person, not the problem.

P.S. In all fairness, (not, of course, to make myself feel better in any way -hee-hee) my husband is NOT PERFECT. He himself once left a credit card in the slot of an ATM and drove away, not even missing it for a day. That wasn't the end of our world, either!

Brilliant New Words for the Dictionary

About a month ago, my friend, Jack Getz, sent me a forwarded e-mail with some new words created by individuals in the Mensa Society. I actually knew someone affiliated with Mensa at one point. It was the woman I babysat for while I was attending Wheaton (oh, the stories behind that!). She was an astoundingly sharp lady and she had an equally bright daughter. Missy, the daughter, had a very high IQ (I don't want to try to say what it was for fear that I will have remembered it wrong). They were both incredibly creative. Some of my favorite memories with the mother, Kate, were of times when we would sit in front of the television late in the evening. We would turn the sound off and create the dialogue ourselves. It was a hilarious exercise, especially because Kate was so good at it.

The e-mail attributed these words to a Washington Post article. I tried to follow the link and find the source, but couldn't. Still, these words are too funny not to pass along. I originally thought I would try to make up a whole paragraph using the words and then provide the definitions. Alas, I am not a member of Mensa, and I got stuck in the bozone layer. I'm not an ignoranus, but I'm not smart enough to use all these words in one paragraph. Darn!

So, here it is as I received it:

"Fresh Words

Washington Post's Mensa Invitational once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are this year's winners. Read them carefully. Each is an artificial word with only one letter altered from a real word. Some are terrifically innovative:

1. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.
2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.
3. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people, that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The Bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.
4. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.
5. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.
6. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.
7. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
8. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.
9. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)
10. Karmageddon: It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
11. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.
12. Glibido: All talk and no action
13. Dopeler Effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly - or when you're drunk.
14. Arachnoleptic Fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.
15. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out
16. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you're eating.
17. Ignoranus: A person who's both stupid and an ass."

Hope you enjoyed the laugh as much as I did. Maybe I should offer a special prize to the reader who can use all 17 words in your comment!