February 3, 2011 · 9:50 am

Snowonder there aren’t more

Last winter, here on the East Coast, we witnessed the formation of clever and catchy weather portmanteaus. Remember portmanteaus? We discussed them last summer. Remember summer?

Portmanteau is a term Lewis Carroll coined to describe the combining of the sound and meaning of two words into one.

Before the first crocus sprang in 2010, we were all a little tired of the cutesy winter snowmenclature—Snowpocalypse, Snowmageddon, SnOMG.

Snirt

Last week, during our extensive power outage, I made up one of my own:  electrocity. It didn’t catch on. Yesterday, a friend turned me on to a new catch word for the nasty stuff that’s lining our streets these days: snirt.

This morning’s paper has a story of a burglar living in one of the Maryland neighborhoods hit by the power outage. After having hit up several houses and stolen thousands of dollars worth of jewelry, he found a house that had power and broke in. When he realized he was about to get caught, he fled through a window, leaving his cell phone charging in an outlet. I’d call this electrostupurglary.

Snoway we can’t come up with more of these.

Now that we know officially that we won’t be having six more weeks of winter, there’s not much time to come up with more seasonal portmanteaus and get them out of our frigid systems.

Anyone?

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February 2, 2011 · 9:46 am

Picante parenting

Stories of extreme parenting techniques have gotten a lot of attention lately. First it was Yale law professor Amy Chua, the so-called Tiger Mother, who bragged in a recent book about depriving her daughters of all things social and calling one child “garbage” for being disrespectful.

Now, it’s the practice of “hot-saucing,” or washing a sassy kid’s mouth out with hot sauce, as a mother of six recently did—and was charged with child abuse.

I imagine some parents, upon hearing this news, might say they wish they had thought of hot sauce. Not I. Not because giving a young child hot sauce might be abusive, but because my child would have loved it.

My son bit into his first jalapeño pepper when he was just eight months old.

My husband and I were having dinner at the coffee table in our tiny first house, when our baby boy crawled over, pulled himself up to the table, grabbed a bit of raw jalapeño and popped it into his mouth. We freaked out. We got ready to call 911 while watching closely for a reaction. He shuddered for a few moments. Then he reached for another pepper, which of course, we grabbed before he ate it. No tears, no hives, no stomach effects, just a desire for more hot pepper.

Ever since, his fondness for all things spicy has only deepened. To this day, he goes into regular withdrawal living 100 miles rom the nearest Chipotle.

It never occurred to me to wash his mouth out with anything, let alone hot sauce. No, Dave’s Insanity triple-X habanero would be a reward. For my boy, punishment would be a mouthful of dark chocolate. No kidding.

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February 1, 2011 · 10:48 am

Cocoa conscious

It’s February, the shortest month of the year, a month since the onset of our New Year’s resolutions. It’s also host to Groundhog Day, Valentine’s Day and Presidents Day. As always, there’s something looming over it all, and it’s not snow. All you need to do is walk into any store and you’ll feel it. Even a stroll through the Internet will bring it to light.

I recently started following Maria Shriver on Twitter. The first tweet I received was a link to her Facebook page, where she asked her fans: “We all have one, and we want to know – what’s your guilty pleasure?”

As of nine o’clock this morning, she had received 100 responses, almost a third of which mentioned chocolate. Dark chocolate, chocolate chip cookies, red velvet cupcakes, chocolate-chocolate chip ice cream, Reese’s cups and several combinations involving milk or red wine or television. Two of my personal favorites—macaroni and cheese and Cheetos—also made the list.

Not surprisingly, most of Maria’s Facebook fans are women. I’d love to hear more men’s responses to the question of guilty pleasures—or maybe I wouldn’t. Something tells me chocolate might not be so prominent.

I have a theory about chocolate as a guilty pleasure and it might be totally off base: I doubt women get any more pleasure from chocolate than men; but I do suspect they feel more guilt.

I too would be among the first to cite chocolate as a guilty pleasure, but that’s because it’s one of a long list of foods I love that make me ill. My New Year’s resolution is to stay well in 2011. This is not to say the red and green M&Ms didn’t gradually disappear from the candy dish over the course of January. Hey, something’s gotta give. Still, the lighter the candy dish, the heavier my conscience.

Now those heart-shaped boxes of temptation are everywhere (as are the chocolate Easter eggs). I’d say to the women and men out there, unless you have a medical condition that is triggered by chocolate, go ahead and indulge sans guilt. Have my share!

And while we’re on the subject, I’ll join Maria in asking, what’s your guilty pleasure? C’mon, guys, chime in.

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January 31, 2011 · 9:41 am

Angular momentum

This post could be considered a part two of last week’s post about light bulbs going off. I heard something last night that reminded me of another commonly misused metaphor and thought it might be worth reviewing.

During the Screen Actors Guild Awards program, veteran comedic actor Tim Conway introduced SAG’s Lifetime Achievement Award, given to Ernest Borgnine, who has performed in some 160 films over his 60-year television and movie career.

In an awkward moment, Conway appeared to have trouble reading the teleprompter and winged the introduction. At first I thought he might be doing one of his classic bits. I don’t know whether he was able to access the prepared script or had to make it up on the fly. And unfortunately, I can’t find an exact quote of what he said. But what I heard was a misused geometric figure of speech.

In reviewing Borgnine’s acting career, Conway cited Borgnine’s first film or two and then said that his career took “a 360-degree turn.”

Now a 360-degree turn is quite likely; but it is a full turn. What it means is that there was no change in direction.

I’m sure you’ve heard it. Someone might say, “He was headed down the wrong road, but his life took a 360-degree turn.” Think about it. If that’s true, he is right back where he started.

The correct metaphor for a 100 percent change in direction is a 180-degree turn, a U-turn, if you will.

The point of this lesson is not to make fun of Tim Conway. He happens to be one of the most quick-witted actors on television. I’ve laughed with him since he co-starred with Borgnine in McHale’s Navy, during his many appearances on The Carol Burnett Show, a few years ago on Yes, Dear and now, on Hot in Cleveland. In another 12 years, he might just be the Betty White of his gender.

Maybe the SAG Award’s writers provided a lousy script, but he’s smart; he could have caught and corrected the angular reference. Or maybe he was just doing the gig as Mr. Tudball.

The lesson is:  If you find yourself about to use the wrong angular figure of speech and describe a complete change as a 360-degree turn, do a one-eighty.

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January 29, 2011 · 11:30 am

Say your kidding

It’s encouraging to hear people talking about the Wet Seal store selling a tunic t-shirt with the lettering: “If your single, so am I.” The giant spelling gaffe has been highlighted in the news. This is good. After all, public awareness is the first step.

I can’t tell you how many intelligent adults I know who contract “you are” as “your.” Once again, this isn’t something they teach in college. Anyone who passed fourth grade should know this.

If you’re (you are, contracted) planning to purchase the Wet Seal shirt, I have two more pieces of merchandise to add to your (possessive pronoun) collection.

My parents and I have traded gag gifts for years; the tackier the better. The best ones are personalized with someone else’s name. Or have a spelling error.

One year for Mother’s Day, I gave my mother a hand-painted ceramic plate I found at the dollar store. She was gracious enough to have kept it all these years, and she submitted a photo for this post.

This reminded me of a conundrum my mother once had. She had bought a blouse at Chico’s that had all sorts of inspirational phrases and positive affirmations printed among various designs. When she got it home, she noticed one of the sayings was “Your beautiful.” She agonized over whether or not to keep it.

Yesterday, after she sent me the photo of the Mother’s Day plate, I asked if she could also snap a photo of the Chico’s blouse. She replied, “I don’t still have the blouse. I returned it because of grammatical issues.”

The apple doesn’t fall from the tree.

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January 28, 2011 · 8:52 am

Friends in power

Here in the Washington area, we are recovering from something called a thundersnow.

After escaping the monster storms that have ripped through the East Coast this winter, we got our due Wednesday and Thursday, with thunder, lightning and six inches of the wettest, heaviest snow and ice we’ve seen in recent times. Many, if not most, people—Democrats and Republicans alike—lost their power.

Our little town outside the city experienced added drama following the collapse of our power substation. For a time, around 8:00  p.m., we had total daylight with flashes of bright red sky. I wondered why I was the only person on my street out shoveling until the eight-year-old next door came out and begged me to go inside. “You’ll get struck by lightning,” he repeated until I obeyed.

I adapted reasonably well to loss of electricity, heat and hot water. Then, my trusty iPhone, and my lifeline to the outside world, lost about 90 percent of its functionality.

Once the thunder died down, I realized just how quiet life is without power. I don’t listen to television or music while I’m working; there’s usually enough noise in my head. Otherwise, my home is filled with the sounds of music, television, ringtones and appliance buzzers. In the absence of these devices, the quiet became uncomfortable.

From time to time I took refuge in my car, enjoying the heated seats and charging my phone in hopes that it might come back to life in time to entertain me. But when I found myself sitting in the car, alone in the driveway, singing Copacabana—loudly—along with Barry Manilow, I realized that maybe quiet isn’t so bad.

Everyone will have a memory from Thundersnow 2011. Mine is one simply of neighbors who care enough to tell you to come in out of the storm and help you clear your driveway when your spouse is away, and people with power who invite you to spend a warm night. And Barry Manilow.

P.S.  Stolen from the person who hosted me last night (and the first half of my life):  “The federal government put out an advisory that only those with essential jobs should report to work. Joe Biden built a snowman.”

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January 26, 2011 · 9:59 am

A snowy disposition

This has been kind of a weird week. Today I am looking at it differently.

Sunday night I came down with a miserable cold, which had me completely down and out on Monday and feeling miserable but functioning on Tuesday. I decided that, with my husband out of town and no outside meetings until Friday, I’d take it easy.

I saved the heavier lifting for later in the week, when I knew I’d have regained my energy. I’d need to make trips to several grocery stores in preparation for a dinner party Saturday, get to a couple of appointments and run some errands.

Today I awoke to snow on the ground and a forecast of another six to 10 inches to come later in the day. I threw a coat over my PJs and did some preliminary shoveling because I didn’t want those other inches to pile up on top of what was already there. I have a bad back that doesn’t take to shoveling and I still have that cold. And I still need to get out to the store. Poor me. Wah, wah, wah.

Then, as usual, I checked in with Facebook. A friend’s status read: “made it to the gym for a decent workout before heading out early to day 2 of chemo.”

I knew she had begun her third regimen of chemotherapy yesterday for what has been a long and frustrating battle with cancer. Still, since the first diagnosis, she has completed a number of half marathons and competed in bike races to raise money for cancer research. She also follows an ambitious daily workout regimen. Before I am out of bed in the morning, she has already done her aqua-jogging, ridden her bike many miles, gone for a run or worked out at the gym.

Today, she worked out before chemo; more astonishingly, after day one. And I’m sniveling about a head cold and a little snow.

Funny how life finds a way to smack you with a little perspective.

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January 25, 2011 · 10:31 am

Date night

If you haven’t been following the lead up to tonight’s State of the Union address, or “SOTU” as inside-the-Beltway rags call it, something remarkable and history-making is about to happen.

Rather than being separated into sections, Republicans and Democrats have been encouraged to spread out and sit with each other. This could have all kinds of ramifications.

From the perspective of the television audience, it’ll be a bit harder to discern audience reactions than in previous years, with one side of the room in standing ovation and the other a sea of arms folded across chests at key points in the speech. In an effort to engender bonding and stimulate civil communication between red and blue, members of Congress have spent time this week choosing whom from the opposite side they’ll sit with during the address.

When I heard this, I became concerned for members whom no one asks to the dance. Just like senior prom, there are always a few who are passed over by classmates looking to score the most popular dates.

Yesterday, Vanity Fair came out with an initial report of who’s going with whom, along with suggestions of topics these duos should avoid, lest all Hades break loose in the chamber, as it did last year, if I recall correctly. This morning, The Washington Post‘s Style section suggests how bipartisan cliques might form around common interests and habits.

I haven’t heard how this intermingling is supposed to take place in practicality. Does one member go and save a seat for his or her buddy? Or will duos make it a true date—maybe a double date—and get a bite to eat together before the speech? A nightcap afterward, perhaps? Will they share a box of Jujubes? Or will they end up elbowing or kicking each other beneath the seats like young siblings, when the uncomfortable subject of spending priorities comes around?

What about those who refuse to cross the aisle and remain amongst their like-minded colleagues? Perhaps they are already practicing the Wave or synchronized heckles.

I rested up during the AFC and NFC playoffs so I can be nice and alert for SOTU. Call me a wonk if you will; perhaps this comes from many years in a job in which I had to take detailed notes and write a report the next morning. Tonight I’ll just pop some corn and watch the show. Okay, so I may take a few notes. Old habits die hard.

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January 24, 2011 · 11:10 am

Off and on

Over the weekend, while watching television news, I heard two different people, in unrelated stories, describing realization processes. One said, “Suddenly a light bulb went off in my head.” (At least he didn’t say the light bulb literally went off in his head.) The other said, “All of a sudden, it was like a light bulb went off.”

Am I wrong or, when one has idea—or when something comes to light—the light bulb goes on?

This morning, I set out to research this. What I found upon searching “light bulb went off” were one or two blogs addressing this very subject, and a long list of entries comprising serious text in which the expression is used incorrectly.

There’s no mistaking the imagery. A light goes on, things become clear. One has an idea or, appropriate for the season, epiphany. This makes perfect sense, so why are light bulbs going off in so many heads?

Maybe we can remember it this way: Lights go on and sounds go off.

Sirens go off, alarms go off, firecrackers and explosives go off.

Or maybe it’s not so simple. When my alarm goes off in the morning, doesn’t it really go on?

Either way, if any of us is ever interviewed about a brilliant idea—and if we choose to use the light bulb image—let’s  remember how to use it in such a way that our audience still thinks we’re brilliant. And let’s remember that also means not saying “literally.”

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January 22, 2011 · 8:57 am

Overnight sensation

Just recently, I sulked when a snobby saleswoman snubbed my style as shabby chic.

I’ve decided I could go two ways with that. I could bristle and point to evidence that my sought-after slipcovers are plenty trendy. Or, I could roll with it and play the part I was assigned.

Maybe shabby suits my economic reality, and just maybe there’s a way to be shabby chicly. But how?

Just as I was trying on this new persona in my mind, I got a tweet from one of my sources for what’s hot. At my age and without a young person at home any longer, I need help in boosting my trend awareness. Twitter to the rescue, once again.

Voilà the latest in footwear for the economically aware, environmentally sensitive, deadline-conscious shoe fanatic.  Goodbye Vanelli pumps; hello Shipping Package Kicks, new from Civic Duty Shoes.

Why so crinkly, you ask? These babies are made of dependably durable FedEx envelopes, and styled like old-school Chuck Taylors.

If shabby and chic don’t ring your bell, consider this. They’ll get you where you need to be by 10:00 a.m. tomorrow.

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