This is a blog mostly about English. Specifically, it is about the word: Nuts.
The word "nut" was first used to denote a hard seed. It shares its origin with the pre-Germanic "knu-" as in, later, nucleus. But that was just the beginning of its long and varied journey through the English language.
Here, I'll just give you what online etymology says about it:
Nuts: "crazy," 1846, from earlier be nutts upon "be very fond of" (1785), which is possibly from nuts (n., pl.) "any source of pleasure" (1617), from nut (q.v.).
Sense influenced probably by metaphoric application of nut to "head" (1846, e.g. to be off one's nut "be insane," 1860). Nut "crazy person, crank" is attested from 1903, (British form nutter first attested 1958).
Connection with the slang "testicle" sense has tended to nudge it toward taboo. "On the N.B.C. network, it is forbidden to call any character a nut; you have to call him a screwball." ["New Yorker," Dec. 23, 1950] "Please eliminate the expression 'nuts to you' from Egbert's speech." [Request from the Hays Office regarding the script of "The Bank Dick," 1940] This desire for avoidance accounts for the euphemism nerts (c.1925). Nutty "crazy" is first attested 1898.
Isn't that a lot of information?
And can we pause for a moment and wonder just how much money goes into telling people in this country that they can't say "nut" on N.B.C? By the way, in Europe, where there's no FCC, the commercials are a lot funnier.
But anyway, the best part about the myriad uses of nuts is the opportunity for unwitting puns from small children. For example, Meyer and Adam (who are both nuts, by the way) have been really into collecting nuts in the park. And then we have the following conversation:
Meyer: "Kelly, I'm about to go play a game. So I need you to keep my nuts safe."
Kelly: "Meyer, why don't you put your nuts somewhere safe yourself?"
Meyer: "I don't know where a safe place to put my nuts is."
Kelly: "What about your room?"
Meyer: (thinking about it) "Well, will you put them there?"
Kelly: "Meyer, nobody can take care of your nuts except for you."
Adam (running in): "Kelly, do you want to play with my nuts while I go to the bathroom?"
Kelly: "What? No. No thank you."
I know it's juvenile but it's funny every time. Lately I've been reminding Adam and Meyer, frequently, that they're nuts. Meyer has cleared up some of the mystery surrounding his own nuttiness. For example on the way home today, when Meyer was running in concentric circles, shouting rhyming nonsense at the birds and giggling maniacally...
Kelly: "Wow! The cold is making you nuts!"
Meyer: (yelling into the sky): "It's not the cold! I was just born funny!"
Adam: (matter-of-factly) "For me it's the cold."
But besides Adam and Meyer, things are going well. We eat well. We sleep well, and late. I've been submitting some stories, so we'll see how that goes. On Saturday our friends Jessica & Liam cooked us a Turkish meal spiced with things they picked up from their holiday trip to Istanbul. It was delicious.
I was happy to learn that Turkish Delight is, in fact, real. It isn't something the White Witch made up to lure Edmund away from Aslan. Now that I've had it, I have to say I don't blame the kid. Not that we were ever highly convinced of my allegience to Good anyway. It depends on what Good can do for me.
And that's about it for now, really. It's a lovely life, but its largely home-based. Lots of writing and sleeping. We sleep. And then, when we're done sleeping, eating and writing, it's usually time to go see Adam and Meyer. And play with their nuts.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Bienvenue!
Everyone should know how to say "Welcome!" in lots of languages. Right? In French, we say "Bienvenue!" And everyone should know Thank You (Merci) and Please (Sil vous plait) and You're Welcome (de rien). So that at least we can be polite.
Except, if you're French-Canadian, these basics can be confusing. In French, as in Spanish, the precise translation of "you're welcome" (as in, the response to Thank You) is actually "it's nothing." De Rien means, literally, "of nothing."
But in Canada, where the French is mixed with the English from next-door, someone will say "Merci" and be met with "Bienvenue." Because the Frenglish mixes "you're welcome" with its literal translation, which is "bienvenue." Which is funny.
It's also why Canada is in desperate need of native French to come and translate (dub) their American TV shows. So that there remains some semblance of proper French, as if any language is a static or proper thing. But its also why Isabelle Neyret moved from Paris to Montreal to dub shows such as Smallville. And when she left, she left an apartment and a studio in the 19th. Where we now stay. So you see, its all related.
Anyway, the point of all that is that I'm back in Paris. Michael is with me. I'm recovering from jet-lag, which is to say, in the past month, I've been from Paris to Texas. Texas to Hawaii. Hawaii to Texas. Texas to New York. New York to Paris. My internal clock has sputtered, bleeped, and imploded. I don't know when to sleep, when to shit, when to be hungry. But life will settle out - for the next two months, at least.
To be brief, Hawaii is as beautiful as they say. We stayed on Kauai (pronouced: kwai), the Garden Isle, home to a mountainous coast and the wettest spot on Earth. It rained, sporadically, for twenty minutes at a time about ten times a day. But the payoff? Lusciousness. Waterfalls. Surf.
What is deceptive about Hawaii is its distance from the mainland. On maps, we see it in its little box right next to California. But it is not, as the ten hour plane ride assured us, right next to California. Not in the slightest. It is, in fact, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Which I guess explains why we acquired the place; not, in fact, purely as a vacation spot for deserving Americans. But rather, as a strategic naval base. And also a delightful vacation spot.
Delightful, indeed. We surfed. We did a helicopter tour. We rafted around the island. We ziplined over valleys and swam in the ocean. We layed around the condo and read books and watched TV. My dad got hitched. I kauai'd. It was lovely.
Texas was just an acrobatic attempt to see all my friends, and to catch up with them on their lives, which apparently went on in full force in my absence. Shocking, I know, but true. Babies were conceived, babies were born. Weddings were planned, break-ups were orchestrated. Hairs were cut. Beards were grown and shaved. Jobs were quit and houses were bought. Law school semesters were completed. All in all, it was a whirlwind and a half just to keep track of the crazies.
New York was lovely, too. Caitlin lives in a beautiful Harlem brownstone, near 145th, right around the corner from the Tenenbaum house, in fact. Her roommates are great. We went to the Whitney, ate dinner with my cousin Tim, and went to my favorite village restaurant, the Grey Dog. Other than that, we mostly slept in and watched Curb your Enthusiasm on DVD.
But it was wonderful, and I spent the whole time glad to be coming back to Texas - in the end - and glad to be headed off for Paris Round 2, as well. I feel entirely welcome in both spots. This time around, we'll hopefully welcome quite a few visitors: Bob arrives in a couple of days, and Kristin & Mike will be here for their spring break. Lots of others have mentioned coming, but my new policy is to not believe it until I'm sent a flight itinerary.
So if you've always wanted to come to Paris - or, hell, Texas, for that matter - you're welcome, to be sure, with open arms. Bienvenue!
Except, if you're French-Canadian, these basics can be confusing. In French, as in Spanish, the precise translation of "you're welcome" (as in, the response to Thank You) is actually "it's nothing." De Rien means, literally, "of nothing."
But in Canada, where the French is mixed with the English from next-door, someone will say "Merci" and be met with "Bienvenue." Because the Frenglish mixes "you're welcome" with its literal translation, which is "bienvenue." Which is funny.
It's also why Canada is in desperate need of native French to come and translate (dub) their American TV shows. So that there remains some semblance of proper French, as if any language is a static or proper thing. But its also why Isabelle Neyret moved from Paris to Montreal to dub shows such as Smallville. And when she left, she left an apartment and a studio in the 19th. Where we now stay. So you see, its all related.
Anyway, the point of all that is that I'm back in Paris. Michael is with me. I'm recovering from jet-lag, which is to say, in the past month, I've been from Paris to Texas. Texas to Hawaii. Hawaii to Texas. Texas to New York. New York to Paris. My internal clock has sputtered, bleeped, and imploded. I don't know when to sleep, when to shit, when to be hungry. But life will settle out - for the next two months, at least.
To be brief, Hawaii is as beautiful as they say. We stayed on Kauai (pronouced: kwai), the Garden Isle, home to a mountainous coast and the wettest spot on Earth. It rained, sporadically, for twenty minutes at a time about ten times a day. But the payoff? Lusciousness. Waterfalls. Surf.
What is deceptive about Hawaii is its distance from the mainland. On maps, we see it in its little box right next to California. But it is not, as the ten hour plane ride assured us, right next to California. Not in the slightest. It is, in fact, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Which I guess explains why we acquired the place; not, in fact, purely as a vacation spot for deserving Americans. But rather, as a strategic naval base. And also a delightful vacation spot.
Delightful, indeed. We surfed. We did a helicopter tour. We rafted around the island. We ziplined over valleys and swam in the ocean. We layed around the condo and read books and watched TV. My dad got hitched. I kauai'd. It was lovely.
Texas was just an acrobatic attempt to see all my friends, and to catch up with them on their lives, which apparently went on in full force in my absence. Shocking, I know, but true. Babies were conceived, babies were born. Weddings were planned, break-ups were orchestrated. Hairs were cut. Beards were grown and shaved. Jobs were quit and houses were bought. Law school semesters were completed. All in all, it was a whirlwind and a half just to keep track of the crazies.
New York was lovely, too. Caitlin lives in a beautiful Harlem brownstone, near 145th, right around the corner from the Tenenbaum house, in fact. Her roommates are great. We went to the Whitney, ate dinner with my cousin Tim, and went to my favorite village restaurant, the Grey Dog. Other than that, we mostly slept in and watched Curb your Enthusiasm on DVD.
But it was wonderful, and I spent the whole time glad to be coming back to Texas - in the end - and glad to be headed off for Paris Round 2, as well. I feel entirely welcome in both spots. This time around, we'll hopefully welcome quite a few visitors: Bob arrives in a couple of days, and Kristin & Mike will be here for their spring break. Lots of others have mentioned coming, but my new policy is to not believe it until I'm sent a flight itinerary.
So if you've always wanted to come to Paris - or, hell, Texas, for that matter - you're welcome, to be sure, with open arms. Bienvenue!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
