Three things from DAH. 

DAH is me, David Anthony Hance. 
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First up this week: Jangle … 
I rather like the German dialect meaning for "jangeln" -- to talk in a whining (or whinging) manner. Merriam-Webster for "jangle": 

1: to utter or sound discordantly or in a babbling or chattering way
<the telephone jangled a summons>
2a: to cause to sound harshly or inharmoniously
<jangle a bunch of keys>
b: to excite to tense and discordant irritation
<the whimsy that had sometimes jangled the nerves of American newsmen — John Lardner>

A favorite party chatter moment for me: When the jangle begins and I need to sort the confusion. Then I have the options to either ride the jangle, or try to guide the jangle, should that seem fun or useful. Seize a jangling end and jiggle it a bit!

Second up this week, Jiggle …
Three steps to fixing stuff in my life:

1. Jiggle the handle or connection. That often works.
2. Disconnect and begin again. Digital reboots are common (unplug, wait 10 seconds, plug in again and restart). Physical reconnections for non-digital, even using tools (gasp) are common, too.
3. Should steps 1 and 2 file … call for expert help (colleagues, friends, family) … and, in a pinch refer to YouTube for solutions or call a professional (last resort).

Best of all, though, is that "jiggle" is just a funny word. Jiggle, wriggle, and giggle. Makes me smile. What a great gathering it could be, with jangling conversation and a good bit of jiggling, wriggling, and giggling. Better than fixing stuff.

Third up this week, Juggle …
Juggle balls? I've failed. Juggle knives or fire or running chainsaws? I'm not even trying. I've juggled plenty of activities and ideas, especially in my callow youth. I was so skilled at multitasking, I thought to myself. Over time, and after years of working with other multitaskers, I decided that much of our juggling resulted in … nothing much of use. I am more successful in achieving good outcomes when I do a bit of jiggling to sort the jangle. Choose an end to focus on, tease it out, work on that bit, then move to the next. Ideally with a good dose of wriggling and giggling, at least on my insides.

A book that intrigues but when will I read it? ...
Juggling - From Antiquity to the Middle Ages: the forgotten history of throwing and catching
by Thom Wall
"A friend once asked me, 'What's the point of juggling three or five balls?' None, really, besides that not everybody can do it. Yet, juggling is one of humanity's oldest performing arts; it seems that every civilization known to man has produced amazing people who have successfully tried to keep objects moving simultaneously in the air in defiance of all laws of gravity. So, where does juggling comes from? When did it begin? What is its history? These are the questions Thom Wall has endeavored to answer in his fascinating book, Juggling From Antiquity To The Middle Ages. Thoroughly researched, richly illustrated, Thom Wall's book is a must-read for anyone interested in juggling or the circus arts in general, anyone interested in performing arts, and anyone with a curious mind." Dominique Jando, author, The Circus (1870-1950)

And a bit more: 

"The Dentist and the Crocodile"
by Roald Dahl

The crocodile, with cunning smile, sat in the dentist’s chair.
He said, "Right here and everywhere my teeth require repair."
The dentist’s face was turning white. He quivered, quaked and shook.
He muttered, "I suppose I’m going to have to take a look."
"I want you", Crocodile declared, "to do the back ones first.
The molars at the very back are easily the worst."
He opened wide his massive jaws. It was a fearsome sight—
At least three hundred pointed teeth, all sharp and shining white.
The dentist kept himself well clear. He stood two yards away.
He chose the longest probe he had to search out the decay.
"I said to do the back ones first!" the Crocodile called out.
"You’re much too far away, dear sir, to see what you’re about.
To do the back ones properly you’ve got to put your head
Deep down inside my great big mouth," the grinning Crocky said.
The poor old dentist wrung his hands and, weeping in despair,
He cried, "No no! I see them all extremely well from here!"
Just then, in burst a lady, in her hands a golden chain.
She cried, "Oh Croc, you naughty boy, you’re playing tricks again!"
"Watch out!" the dentist shrieked and started climbing up the wall.
"He’s after me! He’s after you! He’s going to eat us all!"
"Don’t be a twit," the lady said, and flashed a gorgeous smile.
"He’s harmless. He’s my little pet, my lovely crocodile."

And that's all for this week.
From Mary Oliver's "Sometimes"