“ipruca”

I had to enter this randomly generated word today as part of the security process required of me to approve and respond to comments on my blog.

What a wonderful word it is. “i PRU ca” with either a long or short “I” and a hard “c”. Were the “c” a “k”, it would bear a more vulgar form and though pronounced the same would be more unpolished. Visiting words should appear gentle and serene and not appear as ruffians. Kind of like those Atlanteans that stormed by chambers a few weeks back. Good guys but a little uncouth.

But what of “ipruca”? This beautiful word, selected by God from the chaos of randomness to appear before me just now, mewing up at me with doe-like eyes like a lost kitten on a doorstep, hoping for a home, praying against the inevitable closing of the door or pressing of ENTER and condemnation to certain death.

So I SELECTED “ipruca” with my cursor and pasted it here, to nurse it a little and provide it a chance, perhaps, to live a while longer while I decide what to do with it. In the meantime, I have cleaned away its quotation marks and washed it of its little squiggly red line via ADD TO DICTIONARY.

Ipruca. There, that looks much better.

So what are we to do with you, Ipruca?

You must be granted a meaning of some kind. You must have a little piece of emotion attached to you with little hooks that will allow you to grow within the holographic immateriality of human interconnectivity.

I think you should represent a positive good thing. Like syrup from sweet dates that nourished near dead Sahelian travelers. Yes, Ipruca, I think that you should rank right up there with words like “mead” and “manna”. And from the noun, Ipruca, you would become a title, a name.

Desert kings would name their daughters after your sweetness. “Dearest Ipruca. Abide with me as we watch the sunset’s glow and tell me what would make you happy.

“Oh dearest Papa. I wish to marry a handsome prince and be his only wife so that I may bear many, many sons that will bear your name and his and bring great honour to your family.”

And so Ipruca married a handsome desert Prince and went on to rule a great empire. She was known for her beauty, generosity and kindliness to strangers. Just like her namesake fruit.

Alas, poor Ipruca died. Her people mourned her. They sacrificed thousands of goats in her name. They beat themselves bloody with tamarisk branches so deep was their grief for her. They cried to Heaven in the hopes that she would hear them and know their pain and loss.

Ipruca lived on in the names of the daughters of Kings and of peasants for thousands of years. Stories of her beauty and her generosity lived on through tales and stories. She became a Goddess.

And so it is that today, anything that is sweet and nourishing, that appears as if from nowhere is referred to as Iprucan.

“The sweet smell of spring blooms beckoned to us like Ipruca, after a long, hard winter.”

“The iprucan appearance of storm clouds cheered the farmer’s heart.”

“You may wish to plant Iprucan Olives. They do especially well in more arid climates.”

Well, Ipruca. I think you can stay.

Cheers and Good Mental Health