I like the sound of the word.
But I'm quite sure I like what it indicates better.
Now if you run and google dabble, Mr. Webster will tell you that it means - first and foremost - to paddle or splash about in water. But that's not what I'm referring to here. . . I'm talking about the dabble that refers to taking up a habit or activity. For fun. Simply because you like it.
Like it?
Therein lies the problem.
For I'm not quite sure that I actually like anything in the traditional dabbleable arena.
I'm a vegetarian with crazy food aversions so I will not, perchance, be dabbling in the culinary arts. I'm a failure at yoga, so I won't be dabbling with any yogis. (I dare say that my propensity for sitting on a couch would rule out dabbling in any physical activity. . .) I have no artistic ability. . .no oratory skills. . . no singing voice or physical prowress.
What will my dabble be?
Now we all know that I take to wine like a duck to water, so perhaps I could dabble in that direction (although, in my case, it conjures up the THIRD definition of dabble which involves totally submerging one's head in liquid to get a specific item . .)
I could try dabbling in writing. . . or poetry. . . or blogging. . . or reading. . . but we already know that those are nothing short of OBSESSIONS with me.
Can I dabble in complaining? I think not.
Oh to be a dabbler in macaroni and cheese! But that also conjures up that OTHER definition of dabbling. . . the submerging one. . .
If all else fails, I can attempt to be a dabblista in vocabularianisms!
In any event, I need to find my dabble before my next-of-kin writes my eulogy. . .
. . . and lets it spill that I dabble
in the insane. . .
