The Princess of (Mis)Pronounciation

The other day as I was watching some stupid TV (is there any other kind worth watching?) I was sent into a reverie by an Aricept commercial. Which is kind of funny/sad, when you think about it, since Aricept is an Alzheimer's drug -- if I needed the drug, there would probably be no reveries.

I got to thinking about the word Alzheimer's. When I was a child, I used to think that this word was acutally Oldtimer's. As in Oldtimer's Disease. The etymology made sense to me -- it was a disease of the old, after all. And so I happily mispronounced the word until somebody corrected me.

This wasn't the only word with which I did this. I also used to think that suitcase was actually soupcase. The etymology did not make sense to me in this instance, and I was confused. I never saw any Campbell's in there. Who packed soup to go on vacation? Even though it didn't make sense, I went with it, and walked around saying soupcase until one day my mom heard me say it and took pause. She made me repeat myself and got a good chuckle. When she corrected me and explained that people pack suits, not soup, I felt better. Because you just shouldn't pack cans of soup for a vacation.

Then there was hoak chest. It was the thing that sat down at the end of my parents' bed and that was used for storage. It looked to be made of oak, and it was a chest. So it kind of made sense in my small and apparently fevered brain. Luckily, my mom caught me on this one as well and explained that it was actually called a hope chest. Whoops. (Thanks, Mom!)

And lest you think that I only did this with words I heard, allow me to set you straight. As an avid reader, I was burning through books beyond my grade level at an early age. (I love you, Babysitter's Club!!) This also meant that I often read unfamiliar words whose meaning I was able to decipher from context, but that I could not accurately pronounce. Like hors d'oeuvres. I knew that this meant small, snacky food. But I thought it was pronounced horrs du vorrs. (As you can imagine, I would probably excel at French). This mispronunciation issue was remedied when I finally heard somebody else pronounce it correctly and the light bulb went on. I was old enough at that point that if some random person had caught me mispronouncing it so egregiously, I would have had to turn red and run away. And given that I was also an uncoordinated child (all that reading), I probably would have tripped. Which would have embarrassed me so much that I would have had to quit school.

So I think we should all be glad that I am no longer the Princess of (Mis)Pronunciation. The funny thing now is that I get really annoyed when other people mispronounce words. My grandmother, for instance, insists on calling Oprah Winfrey Ofrah. It doesn't matter how many times you try to subtly correct her ("Yes, grandma, that was a good show that OPRAH had the other day.") it doesn't change. Actually, it's a bit endearing, and given that she's in her 90s , I think this is the way it is.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some soup to pack.

What happened to June?

I'm not quite sure what happened to the month of June. It's like I blinked and the end of the month is here. I have been busy, though, I swear! For instance:

I co-invented Happyland. What, you haven't heard of it? Isn't that sad for you. The fabulous stylist who does my hair and I decided that one of us will win the lottery and then create a commune. The commune will be called Happyland. The rooms will be filled with very comfortable mattresses and big-screen televisions. There will be fountains of fondue (both cheese and chocolate) and this will make everybody-- you guessed it -- happy. Additionally, it will always be 75 degrees and sunny. If a Happyland resident would like some weather alternatives, there will be a button that can be pressed to create the weather. Plus, nobody will have to hold down a job. Want in? Yeah, I thought so. There will be a secret handshake, so I suggest you bribe me for it.

And as if co-inventing Happyland wasn't time-consuming enough, I've been exerting a lot of energy by thinking about the gear I'll need to hike the Inca Trail. I even went so far as to try on a backpack! And buy water purification tablets and wool socks! In fact, just thinking about all that exhausts me. Which bodes really well for the hike itself, I'd say.

Don't worry. I think July will be more interesting. We will be going to Peru, after all. Hopefully, I'll be able to bring a baby Alpaca back to the states. It would fit right in at Happyland.

Davis Square

Once we got back from Vermont last Monday, we had an appointment with a rental agent. We thought that she had one place to show us, but it turned out that she had four. The fourth one had just been listed that day. In fact, I think it was more like the owner had just hired the rental agent that day, but no formal listing had been made yet. The first 3 apartments we saw wouldn't have worked for various reasons, although a couple of them were pretty close. Then, there was number 4. And we liked it. We were the first ones to see it and we snapped it up, since it was the type of place that wouldn't stay long on the market. We saw it fast, and after several other apartments, so I don't have a clear mental picture of it. Which caused me to freak out a bit after signing the lease: Is it too small? Will our furniture fit? Did this all happen too fast?! But I'm calmer now, and my buyer's remorse has basically resolved. Because we haven't bought anything -- this is just a rental. And if my biggest worries are fitting my furniture into the apartment (as opposed to say, getting, mugged as I walk down the street) I don't think I have much to worry about at all.

So come September, we'll be living in Davis Square, and we'll have a very short walk to the T. We really wish we could move in right this minute (I can pack fast!) but, you know, pesky leases require patience. And so we continue to wait for the time we can leave the 'burbs behind. It's getting close. I can already taste the J.P. Licks.

Eating our way across Vermont

Last weekend, in celebration of our 3rd anniversary, Todd and I went to Vermont. I could talk about the cute towns of Middlebury and Burlington, the loveliness that is Lake Champlain, and the beautiful lushness of this time of year. And that would be nice, wouldn't it? And if I had pictures, I could post them, which would also probably be pretty great. But I don't have pictures, and talking about all that other stuff really negates the main point of the trip, which ended up being gorging ourselves on local delights.

Last Sunday was a rainy day, which lent itself well to eating. We had a lunch that featured large quantities of cheese (from real Vermont cows!) and then went to a chocolate festival, where we were given free samples. The festival was a bit small for our $8 admission, but we managed to get the most of our free sample coupons by scoping out the place and making our choices wisely. There was a booth where you could get chocolate martinis, but, unfortunately, they weren't giving out free samples of that. Some people who were getting their samples would make conversation with the maker of the chocolate and ooh and ahh about the smoothness of it and crap like that. Whatever. We didn't want to talk with these people. We just wanted to stuff our faces and leave.

There was also a person wearing a moose costume. The moose looked to be either tired or drunk on chocolate martinis. He stumbled into one of the rooms at the festival, brushing me with his antlers as he pushed past. Then he sat in a chair and propped himself up against a wall. Although there were children there, he didn't approach them in the annoying fashion that you often see from people in costumes. And everyone took a wide berth around him. Everyone knew not to mess with the moose.

After eating all we could at the chocolate festival, we then went to the Ben and Jerry's factory for a tour. At the end of the tour, they give a very generous free sample of their flavor of the day (ours was Phish Food). At one point in the tour, they also tell you about their quality control process, which involves a rather large man tasting the ice cream. They say that their quality control people eat about a pint of ice cream a day and because of this they are given free gym memberships and cholesterol screenings by the company. Todd and I both know that we could do this job extremely well. So if our other careers don't work out, we now have a good backup.

The only Vermont food we didn't manage to eat on our binge was some sort of maple product. Oh well. I guess we'll just have to go back on a pancakes-and-candy trip sometime. Maybe next year. Isn't the 4th anniversary the maple year?