Archive for September 2004

Puds and schmucks: a lexical inquiry, or You learn something new every day

Tuesday, September 28th, 2004

There was recently some discussion and concern among my faithful readers about the etymology of a seemingly harmless insult tossed about by cruel older siblings, one pud. To my friends, the abused little sisters who only recently discovered the full import of this derogatory name-calling, I say, well, isn’t it great that we learn something new every day?

Take schmuck, for example. I like saying the word schmuck. I like the way it works up my spit. It’s a saucy word. He’s a schmuck, she’s a schmuck, everybody’s a schmuck-schmuck… So just the other day, in one of my frequent dictionary digs at work (where I thrive as a word nut, obsessing over the correct spelling of obscure homophones and compound words [open, closed or hyphenated?]), I unearthed schmuck alongside another s-word (not nearly as interesting and so long since forgotten). As I paused to revel in its sassiness, I noticed with naughty delight that it too harks back to the male sex organ! Alas, now that I’ve eaten that apple, I’m no longer able to call a schmuck a schmuck with prelapsarian innocence and glee. guiltypleasure

Bicycle Sundae Sunday

Sunday, September 12th, 2004

Full account of the September 12, 2004 Bicycle Sundae Sunday coming soon. Promise! In excessive detail, you can be sure.

I scream for ice cream

Friday, September 3rd, 2004

Summer wanes (and the moon too). Sundown creeps earlier each day. Pre-supper strolling with my pup and the ice cream truck jingles its way down the hill. Its canned calliope elicits so many flavors of rich emotion!

Row, row, row your boat / Gently down the stream / Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily / Life is but a dream

Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb / Mary had a little lamb / Fleece was white as snow

There was a farmer had a dog / And Bingo was his name-o / B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O, B-I-N-G-O / And Bingo was his name-o

She’ll be comin’ round the mountain when comes / She’ll be comin’ round the mountain when she comes / She’ll be comin’ round the mountain, she’ll be comin’ round the mountain / She’ll be comin’ round the mountain when she comes

We wish you a merry Christmas / We wish you a merry Christmas / We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year!

And such arresting melancholy here– How I never realized when I was little!

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine / You make me happy when skies are gray / You’ll never know dear how much I love you / Please don’t take my sunshine away

Like a desperate prayer by a wretched bug to an all-powerful deity that bestow-eth and taketh away. Warmth tinged with grief.

Boy, I could go for a Haagen Dazs bar!