Kedges

kedge  \'kej\ vt  [ME caggen] : to move (a ship) by means of a line attached to a kedge dropped at the distance and in the direction desired.

kedge n : a small anchor used esp. in kedging.

(In case you're interested, the Middle English word caggen means "to fasten." I love words.)

I first came upon this interesting word in connection with a diet-and-exercise book recommended by a friend. Usually I avoid such books with a passion, but my friend was so persuasive about the benefits of what he'd learned from this one -- and was about 25 pounds lighter and much fitter than his photos from the previous year -- that I made an exception.

Younger Next Year was quite inspiring with its no nonsense, tough love approach to doing what you know you should be doing anyway. I actually made notes on the main points ("Watch your calories and portion sizes, and eat good quality, healthy food. You already know what that is, so show a little discipline, already.") that I refer back to now and again, although I've yet to commit to the program wholeheartedly.

Probably the most important concept in the book was the idea of the kedge. When you're facing the fact that for optimum health you need to exercise pretty hard, 6 days a week, for the rest of your life -- well, that's a bit daunting, isn't it? One recommended solution to that problem was to set goals to train toward. That way you're getting fit for an exciting, motivating reason, because being healthy when you're 80-something is kind of futuristic and vague when you're 50-something and trying to get out of bed an hour early to hit the gym.

Training for something fun is a different story, so the kedge theory goes. Knowing you have a hiking and camping trip in the mountains coming up gives you a specific deadline to work toward. In other words, drop that anchor out ahead of you, and then drag yourself up to it, hand over hand.

The kedge concept immediately reminded me of the reading challenge phenomenon. Having a clear goal and knowing you have to achieve it by a certain date is way different than surveying the vast expanse of the TBR shelf and deciding to do something else instead.  

I'll probably pick one more reading challenge, just to keep myself on the straight and narrow in that department. Now to pick out some exercise kedges to go with!

Southernisms

There are plenty of colorful Southern phrases around (for samples, try this cleverly named and hilarious SouthMouth collection), and I enjoy hearing them, but I particularly enjoy the ones that I would describe as Southern grammar.

Many people, including some very highly educated folks, use these expressions in casual communications, both spoken and written. We are friendly here in the South,* and maybe we take a little more time with our daily routines than other folks; including a few extra words that add meaning is one of the ways we show that.

Here are a few little pearls I've heard recently:

Who all - the plural of who, as in "Who all is going to this?"

All y'all - when y'all isn't expansive enough. In the South, there's you, meaning you alone; then there's y'all, meaning you and a few others, and all y'all, meaning you, your whole family, and all your friends.  As in, "I'd love for all y'all to be there."

Might oughta - favorably considering a possible course of action, as in "With all this rain lately, I might oughta start building an ark."

Fixin' to - preparing to do something, as the first step in actually doing it. As in, "I'm fixin' to start dinner, just as soon as I finish my drink."

*It could be argued that Florida is not the South, because so many of its citizens are from elsewhere. That said, Southern culture is still pretty strong here, especially in the northern half of the state and in rural areas. It could also be argued that because of the phenomenon known as Weird Florida, we exist in a category all our own.

Variations on Delicacy

Thanks to Maggie the kitten, I have learned a new euphemism:  "sanitary clip."

I have never had a long-haired cat before, and the kitten is definitely of that variety. In fact, her tail and haunches are so relentlessly, enthusiastically fluffy, I have taken to calling her "Little Miss Sparklepants."  I'm not sure why, but it seemed to fit.

Unfortunately, the other night she had a litterbox issue that changed her name to "Little Miss Stinkypants" (and perhaps you can use your imagination to fill in another word that begins with S and combines easily with "-pants").

I attempted to handle this matter myself, but I needed at least two more hands to get the job done via washrag and scissors. It didn't help that Maggie thought the whole ordeal was a delightful game and reacted by clawing and biting my hands in a playful manner.

She's cleaned up now, but she also goes to the groomer tomorrow for a (ahem) sanitary clip.

Meanwhile, I keep thinking of existential Henri, Le Chat Noir. If you don't already know of him, you probably should remedy that.

A certain delicate maintenance, indeed.

Enlighten Me, Please

More help wanted.

Having exhausted the resources of Google on this subject (this may be the ONE thing Google won't tell me), I turn to another wonder of the internet for the answer to my burning question: What the heck does "crickets" mean?

I've been wondering for a while, as the phrase occasionally pops up here and there, but never in the context where I can ask the question of a live person. I've been tolerating this gap in my vocabulary for a while now. But when I heard the sound used in a financial story on NPR (Financial Reform: A lot to get through), it was the last straw to my camel of ignorance.

So, my clever, modern, bloggy friends, I know you know. Tell me, what does it mean? Where does it come from? (Am I missing more than I think by not watching t.v.?)

Darn, I Wish I'd Written That

I am cleaning out some old class notes and coming across a few gems in the process. Yes, I know most people do this kind of purge before they move, but not me, not this time. Yet another consequence of only moving ten steps.

Meanwhile, I am wishing I was half this clever.

This particular gem was written by Dr. Elliot Engel, formerly a Professor of English at North Carolina State University:

The Shakespeare You Speak

If you act more in sorrow than in anger, if you ever refused to budge an inch or suffered from green-eyed jealousy; if you have been tongue-tied, a tower of strength, hoodwinked, or in a pickle; if you have knitted your brow, made a virtue of necessity, insisted on fair play, slept not one wink, stood on ceremony, danced attendance, laughed yourself into stitches, had short shrift, cold comfort, or too much of a good thing; if you have seen better days, recalled your salad days, or lived in a fool's paradise--then, be that as it may, it is a foregone conclusion, as good luck would have it, you are quoting Shakespeare.

If you clear out bag and baggage because you claim to be more sinned against than sinning; if you think it is high time and that is the long and short of it; if you believe that the game is up and that truth will out, even if it involves your own flesh and blood; if you lie low til the crack of doom because you suspect foul play; if you have your teeth set on edge at one fell swoop without rhyme or reason, then--to give the devil his due--if the truth were known, for surely you have a tongue in your head, you are quoting Shakespeare.

And finally if you now bid me good riddance and send me packing, if you wish I were dead as a doornail, if you think I am an eyesore, a laughing-stock, the devil incarnate, a stony-hearted villain, bloody-minded, or a blinking idiot, then--By Jove! O Lord! Tut, tut! For goodness sake! What the dickens!--it is all one to me, even if it is Greek to you, for you, dear reader, are quoting Shakespeare!

Blurting It Out

Juliet over at Profoundly Inarticulate is anything but. She recently won a one-minute writing contest with an amusing childhood memory, and her nicely crafted, very concise reflection reminded me of a couple of funny things I was mistaken about, way back when.

I felt foolish at the time, but I'm over it now.

My mother never allowed me to watch "The Guiding Light" or any similar t.v. shows, at least until I was a teenager and could be a little more critical about what I was seeing. Her rationale was that she didn't want me to think life was really like that. For a long time, all I knew was that if I was changing the channels and found a soap opera, she would say "Oh, that's a soap opera, turn that off!" I learned the words by hearing them, and I thought those shows were called "so poppers." Finally I said the words out loud to someone, who set me straight.

I also learned a lot of words by reading. As long as I could figure out the meaning from the context, I never looked them up, or worried too much about how they were pronounced. (Now I read with a dictionary handy and fill in any blanks as I go.) Once, when my high school friends and I were playing some kind of a quiz game, the question asked for the word that means an author's pen name. I knew that one, but only by approximation. What did I say? "Psuedonym," pronounced "suede-o-nim," not "pseudonym." I guess I thought the author was keeping their identity kind of fuzzy? Yeah, I got some grief for that one, too.

Maybe you have some, too, you'd like to share?

Booking Saturday

"Booking" can mean moving rapidly, as in "By the time he got to the first turn, he was really booking."

"Booking" can mean making a reservation, as in "We booked a cruise to the Alaska next summer." Well, maybe not in this economy.

Dictionary.com has helpfully reminded me that the "reservation" can also be in the jail, as in "Book him, Dan-o."

"Booking" can mean getting the highest grade in a law school class, as in "She's so smart--she booked Torts and Property." Even though they don't actually give out books as prizes anymore.

"Booking" can mean reading. Does anyone else remember a 1970's public service spot promoting the library that had shots of different people saying "Book it!"?

Good grief! What a punctuation train wreck that was.

Today I'll be booking it in a different way: over to the book fair.

Maybe I'll have something interesting to post about afterwards! One of those elusive early Booker Prize winners, perhaps? Cross your fingers!

Recuperate

vb [L recuperatus, pp. of recuperare – more at RECOVER] vt : to get back : REGAIN; vi : to recover health or strength

Example: After her dental adventure yesterday, The Princess needs a little time to recuperate.

P.S. Yes, now that the day’s chaos has passed, the computer is working just fine, thank you. Go figure.

Word of the Day

embarrassing, vt. Causing to experience a state of self-conscious distress. Syn discomfiting, disconcerting.

Example: Too late for the interview post, I remembered the most embarrassing song on my iPod, and it's a doozy.

Even I hardly believe this about myself. Brace yourself and click here, if you dare.

Word of the Day

threesome, n. A group of three persons or things: trio.

Example: C.S. says that despite its lack of paragraphs and punctuation, Frog was a little easier to read today because it included a threesome.

Somehow this definition just doesn't quite cover it, huh?

Beating the Odds, or I'm Going Out to Buy a Lottery Ticket RIGHT NOW

So I'm reading along in Aspects of the Novel, and Forster is talking about how he doesn't like Ulysses. Among other things, he says it's the anti-Victorianization of everything. I think he means that while the Victorians went to extremes to sanitize everything they considered dirty (supposedly putting trousers on piano legs and so on, to avoid engendering sexual thoughts), Joyce tries to "cover the universe with mud, . . . to make crossness and dirt succeed where sweetness and light failed, a simplification of the human character in the interests of Hell." Okay, so he didn't like it, and he skewers it pretty effectively.

However, that's not my point. My point is: I'm reading along, minding my own business, and what does Forster say next? He describes the friendship between Bloom and Dedalus as an important point in the book where "smaller mythologies swarm and pullulate." There's that word again. Twice in two days! What are the chances??

I could be walking around lucky and not even know it.

Today's Word is Pullulation

I like it when I have to look a word up. I also like it when I meet people who do that. It means, among other things, that we are reading challenging books that include words we don't know. It also means we like words enough to have a discussion about them. As one of my professors used to say, "Words mean things. Pay attention!" I'm not talking about pompous, self-conscious, show-offy words for their own sake, but the expanded vocabulary of an author's unique craft and vision.

Last night was my first night at my new Great Books group. I was invited in November and finally managed to make a meeting (blame the holidays). The quality of the discussion was first-rate. I was impressed by the courtesy with which the very opinionated members treated each other, while strongly disagreeing on what Borges' The Garden of Forking Paths had to say about space, time, cowardice, mazes, fiction, the human condition, and the nature of reality. It was a very positive experience, although C.S. says twice a month would be too much for him.

And I especially enjoyed the part where almost all of us admitted that we'd had to look up "pullulation" and then discussed whether "swarming" would have been a better choice by this particular translator. That's when I knew I was really onto something.

Word of the Day

Compromise, n. An agreement between two or more parties to settle matters in dispute between them.

Example: I wanted to make the bed but the cat was not yet ready to get up, so we reached a compromise.

See those big wrinkles?

Worst Joke Maybe Ever

C.S. is on his way to Las Vegas and I'm slated for an office day, culminating with my first experience administering a law school exam. (In case you're wondering: Yes, I will so enjoy giving an exam instead of taking it.) And in a pre-flight phone call, C.S. informed me that if he goes to the craps table tonight, that will make us "Proctor and Gamble."