HOISTED ON A WHAT? Marilyn Armstrong

Last night I said to Garry “Aha! He is hoisted upon his own petard!” And Nat Helms wrote a piece about Trump hoisted on his own petard. But really, how many of us have the slightest idea what a petard is or was? I didn’t know until … (gasp) … I looked it up.

“What,” I asked Garry, “Is a petard?”

“I have no idea,” said my husband. This is when I realized I’ve been using this expression my whole life and didn’t know what it meant. Petard sounds French, but what is it? I grabbed my laptop and typed  “hoist on his … ” into Google. Before I got to petard … up it came. Don’t you just love it when that happens?


Voila! Courtesy of Wikipedia, here is the rest of the story.

petard was a bomb used to blow up gates and walls when breaching fortifications. Castles. Walled cities. That sort of thing. The word was originally (duh) French and dates to the sixteenth century.

Typically, a petard was metal (bronze or iron), shaped like a cone or box. Filled with two or three kilos (5 or 6 pounds) of gunpowder and using a slow match for a fuse, the petard was a primitive, powerful and unstable explosive device.

After being filled with gunpowder, it would be attached to a wooden base and fastened to a wall, on or under a gate. The fuse was lit. If all went as planned, the explosion would blow a hole big enough to let assault troops through.

Thus the phrase “hoist on his/her own petard” came to mean “harmed by one’s own plan to harm someone else.” It suggests you could be lifted — hoisted — by your own bomb.


There comes a moment in time when your beloved dog smells like a pile of indescribable offal. Bonnie had reached an intolerable stage and finally, all the stuff I ordered — shampoo, detangler, steel combs, brushes arrived. I told Garry last night we were going to bathe her today. He agreed, but I don’t think he was actually listening.


So when I paused the morning coffee and said “We are going to bathe Bonnie,” he looked like I’d struck him with lightning. You can’t pause the coffee. It’s just not done. But it was today. It was already two in the afternoon. We’d slept through most of the rainy day. It was cold and wet and miserable. I didn’t see any point in getting up anyway. Yesterday, Garry got his first best home haircut.

Today, Bonnie got her very unprofessional kitchen grooming. She doesn’t look groomed. Mostly, she looks cleaner and smells better. I know she smells better because Duke gets very excited by floral scents and the moment we had her out of the bath, he was hot and horny.

At 13, nothing makes Bonnie hot and horny except food.

That was our day, more or less. Our money finally showed up, so I spent a lot of it paying down credit cards, buying grow lights for the plants, and calling doctors for prescription refills. I ordered masks because you can’t go into town without them, though who knows when they will get here.

By the time I was done, there was surprisingly little money remaining.

On another topic, four figures in the Book of Revelation symbolize the evils to come at the end of the world. The figure representing conquest rides a white horse. War sits on a red mount. Famine rides a black horse. Plague sits on a pale horse. They are often called the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

We are always at war and conquest never seems to come out of it. We are living through Plague and it seems that Famine is just around the bend. Death has been having a high old time for the past three months.

Also, I think our really bad government deserves a place on the team. Total incompetence should ride in a big black Humvee, don’t you think?


Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Heads or Facial Features

I don’t do a lot of portraits anymore. I used to. Back when I was more mobile, I got to do weddings and portraits for fun and occasionally, for a few dollars. So now, I shall dig deep into my archives and see what I can come up with.

Cee's Black-White