The Word Nerd Asks: You banned what???

I just finished a new baby quilt, so I was thinking of putting pictures up, but then I came across this article and felt compelled to comment. I missed it when it came out a few weeks ago, but today I was perusing the very amusing, bitingly witty blog of The Rejectionist and saw this link:

"Oral sex" definition prompts dictionary ban

It seems that a parent from a Southern California district was perturbed when they volunteered in their child's fifth-grade classroom and discovered that the Merriam-Webster Dictionary used there had a definition for oral sex. (Which, according to the M-W website, is "oral stimulation of the genitals.") Presumably the parent was concerned that Little Johnny might come home all confused and ask his mommy what "genitals" were, so they complained to the district. The district's response? Pulling all the dictionaries from their fourth- and fifth-grade classrooms.

Putting aside the questionable lessons in dictionary use this suggests—if my kid had come home asking what "genital" meant because he read it in the dictionary definition for oral sex, I would have told him to get his lazy ass back to the "G" section and look it up himself—you gotta wonder what kind of educators look at a dictionary definition and consider it "sexually graphic." The same people who then pull a book for one word, and then say "It's hard to sit and read the dictionary, but we'll be looking to find other things of a graphic nature," as a district spokeswoman did. (Hard to read the dictionary! Say it ain't so!)

The district eventually decided to reinstate the Merriam-Webster dictionary and provide an alternative one for fourth and fifth graders to use, according to the local paper, but still ... they have all kinds in California, including parents who use their spare time in their kids' class to look up dirty words in the dictionary rather than help a kid learn something.

As a side note: my version of M-W's dictionary, being older than most NFL running backs, does not have a definition for "oral sex." I did, however, look at the definition for "intercourse" and it was just filthy!

Wordless definitions: particular

Why is it some cats prefer to drink from a running faucet? The water doesn't taste any different, and it's harder to get. I think they just like the power of sitting somewhere, expecting you do something, and seeing you do it.

Janespotting: Sense and Sensibility and Silliness

Now that I've left my Remedial Lit project behind with summer, and managed to survive a busy busy fall filled with football games and marching band and NaNoWriMo and multiple assignments, it's time to get back to exploring Jane Austen and her myriad imitators. After all, how better to curl up and block out the cold, dark winter than with Jane and a cup of tea?

I was going to move onto Northanger Abbey, which is a favorite Austen novel and her funniest, imho, but when this book came into my library, I felt obligated to read it. After all, I found Pride and Prejudice and Zombies a quite entertaining mashup, as strange as it sounds. Zombies have always been a great metaphor for social stagnation, which would make them appropriate to mix with a novel about women who are often forced to choose between love and security. So could Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters (by Jane Austen and Ben H. Winters) provide a similarly scintillating scenario?

As you might deduce from my excruciatingly excellent example of alliteration, the answer is: not particularly. Now, I could see mashing up Persuasion with sea monsters, as the leading hero is a naval captain and the main characters make a visit to the seaside resort of Lyme, but although Sense and Sensibility takes place in Devonshire, it's not really situated on the coast. So it felt to me like the only reason to add "Sea Monsters" was for the alliteration. Turning Colonel Brandon into a fellow cursed not only by a broken heart but by a sea witch (hence the facial tentacles) is weird, not revealing. Changing the sisters' trip to London to a visit to "Sub Station Beta," an undersea colony headed for disaster? Distracting, not enhancing. Putting Barton Cottage on an island that's really located atop a Lovecraftian leviathan? Just plain strange. The whole thing was quite silly, really, and I finished it just to finish it.

I suppose the publisher thought that after the success of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (not only was it a bestseller, it's been optioned for a movie), they could cobble together any Austen novel and any monster, but in this case they ignored what made P&P&Z so much fun: it was still mainly Austen's words, around 85%. The story was just tweaked here and there, enough to amuse but not confuse. S&S&SM goes way over the top, adding too many new things and changing the characters from their essential natures. You change things too much and it's no longer a parody, just a weird pastiche that's neither familiar nor amusing. I would have preferred mixing S&S with vampires—the novel's themes of letting emotions run away with you would seem to be perfect for it—but it turns out there are already a couple of Darcy as vampire novels out there. [rolls eyes] (I'm really going to have to run out of "sequels" before I get to those...) So enough with the weirdness! Next week I'm heading back to original Austen and Northanger Abbey.

Wordless definitions: Funny

You know, it's really hard to concentrate on instructing your son on the finer points of highway driving when you get onto US-23 and see the leader of a group of bikers with a naked blow-up doll on the back of his motorcycle. At least she had a helmet on.

Seriously, if you don't at least smile at this, there's something wrong with you.

Janespotting: Now, with ultra-violent zombie mayhem!

As soon as this project was announced this winter, I knew I had to get my hands on it. It was advertised as 85% of Austen's text, with the remaining text relating more details about how Elizabeth Bennet, a zombie-fighter along with her four Shaolin-trained sisters, meets and falls in love with Mr. Darcy, who is equally skilled in dispatching undead "unmentionables."

Now, that may sound like a completely insane mashup, but I'm a big fan of Max Brooks' World War Z, a wonderful "oral history" of a zombie plague. (I love books about plagues, although they don't have to create zombies to be interesting.) Lately I can't recommend any books to Boy without him turning up his nose, but this one he absolutely loved. He rereads it every other month or so, and ate up Brooks's Zombie Survival Guide as well. So I was totally up for adding some zombie scenes to Austen's classic.

After chasing around the Ann Arbor area to get my copy (it sold out at my local bookstore in less than a day), I read the whole thing in less than 24 hours. As advertised, it was mostly Austen's story and words. But then you'd come across a line about the Bennet girls' martial arts training, or a section where zombies invade the Netherfield kitchens, or a very gigglesome remark about balls. I laughed out loud several times while devouring this book as fast as a zombie slurps down brains.

Here's a sample passage, to give you a little flavor; Lizzy is visiting Charlotte Collins, as in the original, but unfortunately poor Charlotte has been infected by an unmentionable and will soon need to be beheaded and burned before burial:

Why Mr. Darcy came so often to the Parsonage, it was more difficult to understand. It could not be for society, as he frequently sat there ten minutes together without moving his lips; and when he did speak, it seemed the effect of necessity rather than of choice. He seldom appeared really animated, even at the sight of Mrs. Collins gnawing upon her own hand. What remained of Charlotte would have liked to have believed this change the effect of love, and the object of that love her friend Eliza. She watched him whenever they were at Rosings, and whenever he came to Hunsford; but without much success, for her thoughts often wandered to other subjects, such as the warm, succulent sensation of biting into a fresh brain.

What's even more fun? Boy is reading it, too!

Random Thoughts ... Is the road singing?

No time for long, thought-out posts today, so just some random thoughts.

How I know spring is coming ('cause I can't tell by the weather): I saw two Great Blue Herons yesterday, attempting to land in a nearby creek despite horrible wind conditions. Plus, raccoon road-kill season has started.

If I have to work Saturday for the fourth time in a row, I'm really going to have to start scheduling my time better.

I don't think my toes are ever going to be warm again.

If I never see a yellow lawn sign again, I'll be happy.

Watch out, everyone, in ten days Boy can get his driver's permit.

If TSU hadn't banned further cats I'd be seriously tempted, because there's one at the shelter who's so sweet and yet so shy that I worry she won't find a home.

I'm sure that the repaved stretch of Ford Road is singing to me. Every time I drive down it I hear harmonics that I know aren't coming from the radio. Yet any time I turn off the radio and listen to the road, it stops singing. I would be seriously disturbed by this, but because this is the ONLY smooth road within 50 miles of me, I can't complain.

I'm not sure where to stop this list. So here it stops.

The Word Nerd Sez: E is for ...

epeolatry

It's funny, I'd been wondering what word I could possibly use for my "E" entry when this one popped into my e-mail box from the wonderful a.word.a.day subscription service. It's certainly appropriate to this feature, for it means "the worship of words." Now, I don't know that I "worship" words. I esteem them highly; I spend a lot of time contemplating them; I have fun playing with them. But I haven't built any altars to them ... unless you count this blog. Egads.

Anyway, I'd rather play around with words than worship them. Which leads me to a.w.a.d.'s Internet Anagram Server. Put in any phrase, and it will give you a zillion anagrams (rearrangements of the letters). Many of them are nonsense, but others can be quite amusing. I inputted my name (first and last; stick in my middle name and I get really weird stuff, lots of "zenith" and "geez," and "zit"), and it gave me over 1700 suggestions, including these that stood out:

Teenaged Nil: most teenagers feel like this, I guess, but I'm no longer a teenager (and I had a different name back then: rare naked pi!), so it doesn't count. Neither does leading teen. Aged teen nil might work, but it's not very nice.
Dental Genie: I did write a poem about the tooth fairy; "dental genie" scans much better, though.
Tanned Liege: I'm neither. Maybe if I didn't have a lineage dent, I could trace myself to royalty.
Elegant Dine: I like this one. Who doesn't like to dress up and eat out? It's certainly better than eaten dingle; that doesn't sound appetizing at all.
Genital Need: That's just wrong. But funny.
Giant Needle: Well, I do sew a lot.
Gated Eel Inn: I've got a name if I ever open a B&B!
Dang Teen Lie: Hopefully I won't encounter this soon. Ever. Hear that, Boy?
Elegant End I: Oh, good. I was worried about something ignominious, like tripping on my own underwear and suffering a fatal concussion.
Inane Get Led: Something for election season!
Need Ling Tea: I haven't heard of "ling" tea, so I must need it.

I could go on, but they just get sillier. Why don't you try it for yourself? Post your favorites in the comments.

In related grilling news...

Sometimes I like to browse the "strange stories" section of the news networks, just to see what CBS or the AP thinks is strange. And boy oh boy, does it get extremely strange.

Is it coincidence? In my last blog entry, I was writing about how I thought "Outriggers Grill" was a puzzling choice for a restaurant name, because of the challenges inherent in barbecuing out on the open seas. But these folks in California have taken grilling to a whole new level: Sheriff: Family Cremated Mom on BBQ, Kept Benefits.

Evidently, when Mom passed of natural causes, her daughter and grandson decided to cover up her death by putting her in the BBQ pit, lighting up, and then covering it over and planting a tree. (Talk about your green burials!) Oh, but they made sure they had proper "marinating" first, by leaving her in her bedroom for a week before putting her on the grill. (Ack. Sorry, but I can't resist wordplay, no matter how tasteless.) It doesn't look like there was any resentment toward Mom, since the daughter made a necklace out of a piece of her skull. They just wanted to keep collecting the money.

As always with these type of stories, my favorite part is the quote from the authorities. I mean, these guys see it all, so when they think something is strange, it's usually a 10 on the strange-o-meter. Here's the quote: "It gets really weird when you have a piece of mom's skull hanging around your neck," the sheriff said. "I'm not aware of any religion that allows you to burn your family members in the backyard and collect their pension."

Indeed not. And thanks, news media, for pointing out that grilling on a pitching boat isn't the weirdest thing you could be doing with the barbecue.

The Word Nerd Wonders: What did you just call that?

So I'm driving down the freeway this weekend, admiring the fall foliage and feeling grateful I only have to deal with Sunday morning traffic, when I see a sign:

OUTRIGGERS GRILL

Hmm, I think. Sounds like a sports bar, maybe; it's attached to a hotel, so they're trying to get a manly crowd in to eat hot wings and drink beer, increase their customer base outside of hotel guests. "Outrigger" certainly sounds manly, and outdoorsy. I mean, it's OUTside of something, that's manly. And all those Gs: outriGGGrrrrs, GGrrrill, that sure sounds manly, doesn't it?

Wait a minute, my word nerd lobe interjects. Isn't an "outrigger" one of those stabilizing thingies you find on certain kind of boats? I ask TSU, who's my expert on all things naval, and he says yes, you find them on those old Hawaiian/Samoan canoes that traveled the Pacific in olden times. Great. Now I have a mental picture:


So now I'm wondering, how do you grill on that? I mean, it's not big enough for a real manly grill; I don't even think you could fit a hibachi. (TSU replies: those boats were designed for the long haul, they had to cook the food somehow. I countered that even if there was room in the canoe, I didn't think you could manage a grill with all that pitching and rolling on the ocean.)

So I'm getting a totally mixed message from this bar's name.* It's manly, outdoors, and full of GRRRR! It's tough enough to sail the ocean alone in a small canoe! It's too small to cook a really good side of ribs! Oh well. I should have learned by now not to expect businesses to use words that actually make sense.

*To be fair, I actually looked up the place, and if I were 20 years younger and inclined to go out to bars, I might check them out for their live music.

Change is afoot!

No, I'm not going to be talking about politics. I mean, the election is historic and important and all that, but if you're anything like me, you're on political overload. Too many ads, political talking heads, and unimportant "stories" produced by the endless news cycle. (I liked Jon Stewart's observation that the media covering the election are like six year olds playing soccer. "Who's got the ball! Who's got the ball! Sarah Palin's got the ball! Let's chase her!")

No, I'm going to take a moment to talk about my feet, and how they're mourning the end of summer. I know just last week I blogged about how I love fall and the cooler weather, but my feet think it's gone too far. I have an expression when it comes to my lower extremitites: Happy Naked Feet. I love going barefoot. My feet are extra wide, and kind of flat, so it's never been easy to find shoes that are entirely comfortable. By now my baby toes look rather twisted and monstrous after all these years being squished up against the others. I'm sure they've been broken a couple of times (due to my natural grace), and the right one points in the wrong direction. I have to tape it every time I train, or I can easily dislocate it by making a wrong turn.

Then there's the whole sock thing. Sure, socks are warm and soft and keep my toes from turning white, but they never ever fit. It's frustrating. Because of my wide, large feet, I wear a size 9½ shoe. (Honestly, I should be at least 5'10" with my huge feet, but I barely hit 5'6".) Twenty years ago, I had to buy fancy brands to get that size, but women's shoe manufacturers realized that women's feet are getting larger and now I can find a 9½ anywhere I shop. Unfortunately, sock manufacturers haven't kept up at all. Their "9 to 11" sock size does not correspond to those shoe sizes. I put them on my feet, and the sock heel always stops short of my heel. I have to stretch the sock to fit, so it feels tight on my toes and wears out quickly. So I (and, I assume, many other women) really need a larger sock size. Good luck finding it, because I can't—unless I turn to "Queen Size" socks, which end up bagging around my ankles because my legs are relatively small, at least compared to my gargantuan feet.

So although I'd rather run around outside in sandals, letting my toes hang free, the changing weather means my Happy Naked Feet must become Sad Sock-Clad Feet. Luckily they can still be happy on the taekwondo training floor—at least, until winter sets in and the freezing temps turn my toes white. Sigh.