That word jumped out at me when I was listening to 3 Nephi 8:1 last week in preparation for yesterday's Gospel Doctrine lesson. I made a mental note to look it up as soon as possible, then promptly forgot it. Because: middle-aged, and many plates spinning madly.
Dictionary.com says: “n. a particle; bit; jot (used especially in negative phrases): not a whit better.” And says that the origin is Middle English, somewhere between 1470 and 1480A.D.
The British Dictionary definition is “n. (usually used with a negative) the smallest particle; iota; jot: he has changed not a whit. And says that the origin is 15th Century: probably variant of wight: a human being, or a supernatural being, as a witch or sprite, any living being, a creature; this meaning going back to Old English, before 900A.D.
“smallest particle,” 12c., in na whit “no amount,” from Old English nan wiht, from wiht “amount,” originally “person, human being”
It's a word that shows up in the Old Testament (Deuteronomy 13:16; 1 Samuel 3:18), the New Testament (John 7:23, 13:30; 2 Corinthians 11:5), the Book of Mormon (Helaman 11:19; Alma 34:14, 42:25, 3 Nephi 1:20, 1:25, 8:1; 4 Nephi 4:19), and the Doctrine and Covenants (33:4), and the Pearl of Great Price (JST, John 13:10). That's a lot of presence for something that's barely there.
We started the new timekeeping system at work today. I was able to log on just long enough to enter the time off request for tomorrow, when Middlest and I are getting three fillings between us. I tried many times throughout the day, in between other tasks, and was only able to log on shortly before quitting time. I got my hours worked and my lunch break entered, and a couple more pre-approved times I'll be out of the office. I hope to get the rest of them entered tomorrow. Apparently there was a wide swath in the middle of the country that had problems accessing the system.
Technology is wonderful, except when it's not.
Middlest got to spend a few hours with Mel and Squishy today but ran out of spoons and came home early, staying up until I got home in order to pass on hugs and love. My poor beleaguered kid is snoring softly in the middle bedroom. I am sitting here, typing away in between bites of cornbread, which is all that I really wanted for dinner. Well, maybe an apple for dessert.
Normally on Tuesdays, Middlest goes to work with me and hangs out in the atrium of my office building with a backpack full of games, art supplies, knitting, or whatever. We discussed it via text and decided that the best thing for tomorrow is for my kid to stay here until the last possible minute, and I'll leave work earlier than originally planned, race home and pick up Middlest, then scoot over to the dentist. Knit Night is almost certainly out, so we'll just grab Fourthborn and get ice cream cones, drop her off, and come home after the worst of rush hour is over.
Time to put away the leftovers, wash any traces of butter off my hands, and decide whether I'd rather sew or knit. It would be fun to finish the evening with a completed dress for Gracie. Pretty sure she's tired of being bald and half-naked (which is an improvement over much of the past week, when she was bald and totally naked on my sewing table, while Blessing clucked over her disapprovingly.
Haven't found a pair of Marian-the-Librarian glasses for Blessing yet, but I've found a cute pair for Celeste. Both of them are such bookworms that they really need decent specs. Besides, who could be afraid of a near-sighted vampire who faints at the sight of blood? (No, she doesn't sparkle. Don't be silly.)
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!