Language. It’s something we all use. Some of us use it better than others. Some of us disregard well founded grammar rules. Pronunciation and definitions are meaningless dribble. Some of us are far to creative or, dare I say, lazy to use words properly. Some of us like to make up our own vocabulary and expect everyone to comprehend our violent slaughter of the English language.
I, myself suffer violent bouts of language slaughter, mostly after a visit with my beloved parents. Usually, it’s my mom that makes up words. Like last week she told me that a lady in her church was at home suffering from ‘epa–plasia‘. I hadn’t heard of this ‘epa–plasia‘, but I thought that the old lady must be on her death bed for sure. Later, I figured out it was a young woman in her third tri–mester that had preeclampsia. There is no way in hell Mom will ever be able to remember the word preeclampsia or be able to pronounce it, so from now on if a lady is suffering from the dreaded preeclamsia it will forever be known as epa–plasia.
A few weeks ago my dad and I were sitting in the parking lot of the local custard joint enjoying our frozen treats and watching a couple walking their Standard Poodle. Dad and I admired the dog and reminisced about our own Standard Poodle, Thunder, that had been our family pet when I was growing up. Then, it happened, Dad innocently threw out this wing-dinger…..
“Yeah, poor Thunder, he sure did get emancipated in his old age.”
“What? Thunder was emancipated? From what? Dad? I think you mean emaciated.”
“Oh. Well, I guess he was both.”
Mom and Dad also say these words: End-dustry, Choir-practor, Eye-talion and my favorite Warshington.
Thanks Mom and Dad. I needed something to write about today. I love you best.
Your Favorite and Prettiest Daughter,