Recently in Words & Language Category

A few weeks ago I was alerted to the fact that I was using the phrase " the Lion's Share" far too often. When asked about what the cliche might mean I was at a loss. It turns out that it comes from Aesop's Fables. Thanks to google I got a quick explanation. Turns out the Lion's Share is 75% and speaks too the Lion's sense of entitlement.

I thought Martin Luther said this, " "Beer is proof that God loves us, and wants us to be happy", but that was Benjamin Franklin.

Bret was right, I was wrong.

I love prowling the internet looking for funny t-shirts. I found this one on threadless and sent the link to Jennie, my scrabble playing bud from 5th & 6th grade. Check out Jennie's t-shirt.

I'm a sucker for unscientific polls.

Your Linguistic Profile:

65% General American English

20% Upper Midwestern

10% Yankee

0% Dixie

0% Midwestern

There are two things in life that always make me feel better.

• Taking a long walk.
• Reading a book.

This weekend I got to do both when I turned the water on at Uncle R's cabin.

The paperback books at the cabin are mostly books left behind on airplanes, collected by R. during his tenure with Northwest. Given the collection method you can imagine that there is a huge selection of trashy novels from the 70's and early 80's. For instance we have multiple copies of "Airport" & "Coffee, Tea or Me".

This weekend I finished "The Graduate", by Charles Webb and made a start on "The Invisible Man" by Ralph Ellison.

I liked "The Graduate". The movie version is such a cultural icon, it was hard to not imagine the main characters as being played by anyone other than Dustin Hoffman & Anne Bancroft.

Loved this parody entitled, "The Lonely Planet Guide To My Apartment" from a recent New Yorker. I need to write one for people brave enough to come to my house or office.

Since my birthday is coming up, the appropos quote is this one.

Elise saw her first corpse at a funeral today. When she saw the deceased in repose she asked, "Is that just a sample, so we know what she looked like." Yes, dear it kind of is.

It's very bad form to ever post poetry on a blog.

I came across this poetry writing exercise that seemed to good to pass up. This was inspired by a poem by Goerge Ella Lyons entitled "Where I'm From".

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I am from _______ (specific ordinary item), from _______ (product name) and _______.
I am from the _______ (home description... adjective, adjective, sensory detail).
I am from the _______ (plant, flower, natural item), the _______ (plant, flower, natural detail)
I am from _______ (family tradition) and _______ (family trait), from _______ (name of family member) and _______ (another family name) and _______ (family name).
I am from the _______ (description of family tendency) and _______ (another one).
From _______ (something you were told as a child) and _______ (another).
I am from (representation of religion, or lack of it). Further description.
I'm from _______ (place of birth and family ancestry), _______ (two food items representing your family).
From the _______ (specific family story about a specific person and detail), the _______ (another detail, and the _______ (another detail about another family member).
I am from _______ (location of family pictures, mementos, archives and several more lines indicating their worth).

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My take on this is beow the fold, read it for laughs. Send me yours or blog it f you aren't chicken.

The inspiration for this came from the blog don't eat alone.

One of my all time favorite blogs is postsecret. On this website they post scans of post cards, sent anonymously, each containing a secret. They are sad, funny, and sometimes disturbing. This year they published a book which I recently picked up. As I flipped through the book, marking my favorites, I found myself saddened that more of the submitters didn't have anyone in their life to share their secrets with.

I believe the sadness I felt, allegedly viewing someone else's secrets, is really a reflection of my own sadness. While I imagine that I feel sad that the baptist minister's wife can't tell someone that she doesn't believe in God, the bigger truth is that I am sad that I am so full of stories that I am unwilling to share.

I have started to make my own postcard to send in to the postsecret web site on more than one occasion. I always find myself stuck; which secrets and how do I represent it best? The blank space on the card becomes a prison rather than a window.

If we become our own myths, is it possible that my hesitance to actively participate in the making of my own myth will result in delays in my personal development?

Reading that makes me long for both spring and having hair.