Monthly Archives: April 2011

A crack in the idiom

My parents schooled me well on matters of language. Often they told me preemptively about common errors, so that I might avoid them later on. I’ve told you about some of these before (e.g., “waiting on” versus “waiting for”).

Coincidentally, as I was remembering another erroneous expression about which my father warned me long ago, I came across a column on the same subject.

Here we’ve covered malapropisms and funny mixed metaphors. We’ve even discussed useless phrases. But there is another category–expressions that are commonly accepted though, when examined more closely, make no sense. That’s what the column I read on Johnson, The Economist’s language blog, was all about.

I love the way Johnson describes it: “a reasonably common starter phrase that can evolve into a variant catchy enough to take root but close enough to the original and wrong in a subtle enough way for most people not to notice.”

There’s no name for such a thing, as best I know, but there are some examples to consider.

The one my father brought to my attention oh, so long ago: “It fell between the cracks.” Think about it. “Between the cracks.” To fall between the cracks, or slip between the cracks, has come to mean that something was lost—by slipping into a tiny space. Say you drop a small object on the floor. If it slips between the cracks, it’s not lost at all. Why?  Because what’s between the cracks? The wood. Even though “between the cracks” is commonly accepted, what we mean to say—and should say—is “through the cracks.”

By the way, the Johnson column begins by observing that, in British English, the words “between” and “among” do not necessarily have two different meanings, as they do in American English. I am going to assume my American readers know the difference. See me after class if you don’t.

The piece also discusses “head over heels,” another common expression that should really be “heels over head.” Visualize it and you’ll see why.

What other faulty idioms—English or American—can you think of, based on Johnson’s description? Is there a chance we can start a movement?

First, we need to come up with a name for it.

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By the book

About 10 years ago I realized that, as a society, we parents read way too many books about pregnancy and infancy and not enough about parenting. It was much longer ago that I marveled at the amount of energy and money we pour into infants, equipping ourselves and them with nursery furniture and fixtures, clothes and equipment, when everything is outgrown in the blink of an eye—and, in our case, occupies space in the attic for another 20 years.

As I glance at my bookcase, I count more than a dozen books about the first years of life. Were those really needed, when what we focused on at that stage was putting food in one end and cleaning up at the other? The loving came naturally.

By the time our children are adolescents, we are too busy pulling our hair out to read books. I did have one or two that helped in a pinch, but wouldn’t it have made better sense to read those in advance of onset?

Then came the dreaded Empty Nest Syndrome, for which I was completely unprepared—most likely because I was consumed with the here and now of the high school years. Then came the college years, during which parenting happens long distance. And then, the post college era.

Just weeks after our son graduated from college last spring, I struggled with identifying my role as a parent. You’d think your work is done, but isn’t your role just being redefined yet again? As the parent of an only child, I am the very model of the modern helicopter parent, always hovering. When is it time to fly out of the picture? How is my adult child going to navigate the adult world? Where are the books for this stage?

Well, it turns out there are plenty of books on parenting your adult child. I just never thought to look. I spent some time on Amazon.com this morning, when my son and his girlfriend went back to North Carolina after spending a week here, exploring possible relocation. Yes, we are inviting him back to the nest, so that he might have a better pad from which to launch the second year of his adult career. And I see there are nearly a dozen books on the subject.

Again, we contemplate our role as parents. We taught him what the cow says and where his nose is. Surely, 20 years later we can be of help in punching up a resume, crafting an elevator pitch, sharing advice on networking techniques, working up sample budgets and helping in the clarification of goals. But whose goals, his or ours?

I know the answer is this: we have an adult son who has matured into an outstanding man, caring and talented, in spite of us.

Now what?

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Keep it short

Yesterday’s blog post was my shortest yet, a mere 72 words. Being that it was a tribute to my husband, I tried to keep it brief. He always says my best posts are the short ones.

Out of courtesy to readers, I try to keep my daily posts under 400 words in length. Sometimes a story takes more words to tell, while commentary can—and should—take fewer.

Packing more narrative into a smaller package is a challenge. It’s also what makes it fun. Often I begin by laying the raw content out on a slab. Later I go back and tidy things up. Think of a trash compactor – raw materials are deposited and fill up the bin quickly, but later become compacted into a dense package taking up less space. That’s how I look at writing.

Someone once said, “If I’d had more time, I would have written a shorter letter.” Try looking that one up. Variations have been attributed to Mark Twain, T.S. Eliot, Benjamin Franklin, Blaise Pascal, Abraham Lincoln, Thomas Jefferson, Lord Chesterfield, Samuel Johnson, Voltaire, Ernest Hemingway, Jean-Paul Sartre and George Bernard Shaw, among others.  If even 10 of these good fellows are posers, it just shows how valid a notion it is.

I’d like to become better at keeping it brief. These writers are correct – it does take more time. Anyone can ramble on. Just tiptoe through the blogosphere and you’ll see for yourself. Writers are ever challenged to scour our text for extraneous words and phrases, and eliminate or replace them with more potent substitutes.

Educators in Virginia recently took heat for having students use Twitter for some of their assignments. I thought it was a novel idea. Having kids keep their writing to fewer than 140 characters is an exercise in brevity. Yes, one day they’ll be writing 10-page term papers, and didn’t we all perfect the art of filling blue books and typing paper with loquacious ramblings and flowery phrases?

The test is the ability to serve up meaty content in as manageable a container as even the most attention-challenged reader will digest and, perhaps more important, to know when to stop.

Yesterday, one of my favorite groups, “Fake AP Stylebook,” suggested: “Running out of space? Just end abruptly with, “Only time will tell if this development resolves the issue.”

(388 words)

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Marathon man

He has run four marathons in the last five months.

He has run 35 marathons in the last 14 years, plus several 30-milers, many 50-milers and a 60-miler.

He sometimes has trouble getting up and down the stairs, but he manages to run some 50 miles a week.

He is my husband and today he is 62.

Hey, if you were married to me, you’d run too!

Happy birthday to my husband. Have an ultra great day.

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It is what it is is

When readers write in and ask me to air their peeves in this space, I try to oblige.

What I’ll call the double-is has come up at least twice here—and it bothers me as well—so let’s get it out there.

“The problem is is . . .” “The thing is is that . . .”

I began hearing this about 10 years ago and it’s still going strong.

I even hear, “. . . was is . . .”

Now let’s be careful to not put a false ban on the double-is because there are times when it is correct, such as when the first “is” is part of clause; or when “is,” in quotations, is used as a noun.

Correct:  “What the problem is is a lack of understanding.”
Incorrect: “The problem is is a lack of understanding.”

The first one is correct because “what the problem is” is a clause. Think of it this way:  The clause stands for one word. It is the subject of the sentence, and it just happens that the cause ends with the same word as the verb in the sentence. (I suppose you could insert an illegal comma in between the two, but I wouldn’t recommend it.) 

“The problem is is” is incorrect because “the problem ” is the subject and “is” is the verb. Only one verb is needed.

Somewhere along the way, people began to confuse the two, and started packing and extra “is” either for emergencies or, as is often the case, to sound more intelligent. Listen for it.

Or, if a visual would help, watch this explanation:

Now if we could only get the people we know who do this to read this blog, Sigh.

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The laugh’s on me

I spoke too soon—about a few things.

In a February post I pined for the old American Comedy Awards, but took solace in the fact that Comedy Central would be starting a new comedy award program in April.

Then a few weeks ago, I gloated about having finished my taxes three weeks early.

As these sentiments came back to me yesterday, I ended up eating my words.

First, I suddenly remembered that, in addition to federal and state income taxes, I had to file state personal property taxes for my business. The form is only six pages long, but it causes me more heartburn than anything I do all year. I do this one myself, rather than rely on a tax preparer, because it should be relatively simple. I work in an eight-by-ten-foot home office, with very few assets and, but for a few printer cartridges, purchased nothing in the past year.

Still, factoring in dread and recovery on either end, filling out the form takes me several hours, and I had put it off until the last weekend day before April 15.

I got psyched up by promising myself that, if I finished filling out the ugly tax form Sunday afternoon, I would treat myself to an evening enjoying Comedy Central’s first annual Comedy Awards.

So I plowed through several pages of instructions, and tackled the analysis of the original cost of my assets by year of acquisition, a balance sheet breakdown of the value of furniture, fixtures and equipment, accumulated depreciation, depreciation per year for the last five years and the net book value. I filled out a form for the disposal of machinery (a deceased computer). I wrote a check for $300, a “filing fee” that is charged simply for the privilege of being sent a tax bill. Then I took two Extra Strength Tums.

The process was tedious and gut-wrenching.  I sweated, groaned, clenched, cramped and did a year’s worth of cursing, but I got it done. It was time to curl up in front of the Comedy Awards.

I was beyond psyched. After all, the nation’s great comedic pioneers and geniuses were behind the creation of this new event:  Stephen Colbert, Billy Crystal, Whoopi Goldberg, Seth MacFarlane, Conan O’Brien, Don Rickles, Joan Rivers, Chris Rock, Ray Romano, Phil Rosenthal, George Schlatter, Jon Stewart and Lily Tomlin, among others.

The joke was on me. It was the worst awards program I’d ever seen, bar none, and this includes the TV Land Awards, the Teen Choice Awards and every other low budget, low talent competition in modern television.

I had more fun doing my taxes.

One bright spot – Saturday Night Live’s Kristen Wiig won Best Actress. It almost made the misery worth enduring. Almost.

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Metaphorically mis-speaking

Did you ever hear a string of words coming out of your mouth and then wish you could inhale them back in before they reached anyone else’s ears? Not because you want to savor them but because they didn’t come out the way they should have?

I’m not referring to rude or hurtful comments or words that come back to bite us; just words that inadvertently come out the wrong way—maybe the wrong metaphor or worse, an unsavory one.

I heard both within just a few seconds on this morning’s local news.

The local NBC news team was doing a segment on the DC101 Chili Cook-Off, coming up in Washington on May 21st. In advance of the annual event, WRC, the local NBC affiliate, held a promotional chili tasting in the NBC cafeteria.

Setting up the piece, WRC anchor Kimberly Suiters announced to viewers that seeing all the chili “will wet your whistle.”

I assume—I hope—she knew as soon as she uttered those words that what she meant to say was “whet your appetite.” I’ve never known chili to wet one’s whistle. Water wets a whistle or, metaphorically speaking, quenches one’s thirst. Honest mistake, but also an opportunity to point out here that it is whet one’s appetite, not wet one’s appetite. FYI, to whet is to sharpen or to stimulate.

Suiters then threw it to reporter Jim Handly, who surely cringed when he heard himself announce that the Cook-Off would feature “chili out the wazoo.” Not exactly a visual DC101 was aiming for, I suspect.

I vote for giving these two metaphorical mulligans.

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Occupational hazard

On Wednesday, when I wrote from a sleep deprived state about insomnia, there was one typo I hadn’t caught. Frankly, I was surprised there was only one. Readers Polly and Ellen were kind to point it out to me so that I could go back and correct it.

Fellow blogger Dennis would likely say that there’s no need to correct the typos; he believes that blogs are authentic messages from the heart, not to be over-thought or over-edited. Dennis is probably right, except when one publishes a blog that focuses largely on proper language and spelling.

I am reminded of a column that appeared in The Washington Post last month, entitled “The danger in writing about typos? Making one yourself.”

Earlier, columnist John Kelly had written a column about signs containing embarrassing typos, in which he made at least two himself. Readers noticed. They’ll do that.

Kelly faced his mistakes, laughed at himself and bowed to readers who no doubt were suggesting that, “when one is a pot, it is best not to call the kettle black.”

If that were the case, this blog would have to close up shop (and not just for April Fool’s Day).

We’re all human. We make mistakes. But doesn’t mean we can’t tee-hee at others in good fun, does it?

I think as long as we are willing to laugh at our own mistakes first, then we can snicker at funny typos.

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Don’t go it alone

As I woke up again on the West Coast this morning, with nary an idea for what to say today, I received a comment from a reader and fellow WordPress blogger, Olga, who teaches English in Russia.

Olga said, “I’d be interested in your opinion as a Word Nymph on learning foreign languages by oneself,” and pointed me to her post on the same subject. I scrolled through a few more e-mail messages that came in overnight. There was a piece of spam, with the subject heading, “Want to learn a new language fast? This contained a link that would not open. But Olga and this spammer got me thinking.

In her post, Olga converses with her reader, Yulia, about the pros and cons of teaching oneself a second, or third or fourth, language. This dialogue is quite interesting, especially as it takes place in English between two non-native speakers, who both write English extremely well. But that’s not the point.

I once learned Spanish, but it took me four years attending a university—and time studying in Spain—to do it. Lack of practice over 30 years has placed me closer to the starting line that I’d like.

As Yulia points out, it’s possible to learn the fundamentals of grammar and sentence structure from a book, but pronunciation is more difficult to learn in isolation. We need to hear words pronounced, we need to practice our pronunciation in the presence of others. Tapes can be helpful, but digital media don’t converse. It is in conversing that we learn.

It’s not that teaching oneself can’t be done. I know that because my son taught himself Italian at age 10. Of course, he didn’t become fluent; his goal was to be able to read a menu and order his own meals while on vacation with us in Tuscany. He had received a pocket-sized workbook for Christmas, took it to school and studied it every afternoon in after school care, while sitting in a corner alone. At least that’s what his day care providers told me. Indeed, when we arrived in Italy the following July, he had amassed an impressive vocabulary of practical words and phrases. Even though he learned in a vacuum, his pronunciation was pretty good as well and he exercised his new skill with confidence.

Likewise, my father is in the process 0f teaching himself Spanish. When he began thinking about retirement, he decided this was something he ought to do. (I was voting for his learning the computer).

My father is making good progress, but he would do well to perfect his pronunciation through practice, something he is doing right now, in fact.

I believe strongly that learning—learning almost anything—best happens in community. Ideas can’t be exchanged in even a hundred years of solitude and, while it is possible to read a book, or listen to or mimic tapes, it is in the conversing that learning a language happens.

Based on my experience, I’d recommend taking a class, forming a study group, seeking out kindred spirits and doing it together. Support one another, exchange ideas, draw each other out of your shells.

And, take it from me, a little sangria never hurts.

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Night terror

Do you know those tests the sleep specialists show on television to demonstrate what happens to drivers when they’re sleep deprived? Poor judgment, slower response time, even hallucinations come into play when a human does not get sufficient sleep.

This morning, I am tipping orange cones all over the place.

Yesterday I flew to California, worked until almost midnight and went to bed after being up for 23 hours. Then I woke up three hours later, still in the West but with my rhythms in the East.

For the last two hours I’ve tried everything that usually works for me—reading, getting up and walking around, even having an informercial playing softly in the background. The latter usually works like a charm. Not this time. But I can tell you everything you’ve ever wanted to know about the P90X fitness program and something about the anti-aging magic of melon extract that keeps Cindy Crawford’s and Valerie Bertinelli’s faces frozen in time.

Looking back over this, I’ve counted more than a dozen typos and, I hope, corrected all of them. I’ll check back again after this afternoon’s nap.

Aside from sleep aids—which aren’t an option when you’re an hour and a half away from the alarm going off–what works for you when you’re wide awake, yet more tired than you’ve ever been, at 3:00 a.m.?  Other than blog–I’ve tried that.

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