Not all words should be turned into verbs, as evidenced by this exchange:

"I alpha-numericked you two hours ago!"

Um. OK.

While bombs rain down on Baghdad, and downtown businesses are being told to close early because of the threat of riots later by war protesters in downtown Minneapolis, my 23-month-old son is eating fruit snacks, playing with Matchbox cars and having a nap on what is, for him, just another chilly Thursday afternoon. It would be nice to be 23 months old, I think.

I edited this line out of a story this afternoon: The Air Transport Association, an industry trade group, predicted that a
wart could cost airlines about $10.7 billion ...

Watch out for those expensive warts.

This morning I got on the bus behind a woman carrying a box that contained a machine called a "Froth & Sauce." She sat down across the aisle from me, which gave me the opportunity to muse:

What should one make of a society in which consumers can purchase a machine dedicated to creating froth for exotic coffees?

Doesn't "Froth & Sauce" sound like symptoms of rabies, or some equally unpleasant disease?

Why did this woman feel the need to bring her Froth & Sauce with her on the bus at 7:15 on a Wednesday morning? Was she planning to add extra froth to the coffee in the Starbucks cup that she was also juggling? Or was her attachment to the device so enduring that she couldn't bear to leave it home when she went to work?

I need to find something else to muse about.