Tag Archives: funeral

Crème

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Crème: (n) cream

Sometimes I foolishly allow myself to get on a jag of discovering correct grammar, proper sentence structure, and believe it or not, accurate spelling.

In the midst of this pursuit, I occasionally stumble on a word that has an old-time spelling and a new-fangled spelling without any particular consensus on which one is definitively correct.

Idiot that I occasionally am, I adopt the unusual spelling or pronunciation, thinking it makes me a trifle uptown or high-falutin’.

The result is always the same.

All the people who do not share my predilection for a historical study of the English language—etymology—immediately wonder why in the hell I use the word etymology when I wasn’t mentioning insects.

I know they don’t know what they’re talking about.

I am positive I have discovered some nugget of personal treasure which I am offering in order to seem expansive.

But inevitably, I’ll be corrected—rudely.

In one of my novels I wrote that my character requested “coffee and crème.”

First, my spellcheck had a stroke. (You know—when the squiggly line is SO dark and red that you realize it’s coming from a rage from spellcheck’s childhood.)

I resisted spellcheck and had it published, only to hear from grammar Nazis, concerned friends, and those who joined the club (which probably is called, “Cream Should Be Spelled C-R-E-A-M.”) They all asked me to reform. I became defensive, which made them believe that I was not only ignorant, but mentally challenged.

 

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Cabaret

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Cabaret: (n) a nightclub or restaurant where entertainment is performed.

Even though life is not a cabaret, it also is not a church service.

It’s not a funeral.

It’s not a long wait at the DMV.

It’s not sitting in a doctor’s office.

It is not watching a second television show because you have nothing else to do.

It is not reading a book and thinking it’s just as good as traveling.

It is not a night out with the boys or one out with the girls.

It is not a political party.

It is not intolerance.

It is not going to your job and being miserable.

It is not going to your job and offering a lackluster performance.

It is not favoring your culture over another.

It is not thinking that you’re better than other people.

It is not owning anything (but a winning smile).

It is not selfishness.

It is not well-advertised bigotry.

It is not…

Well, I could go on. Let me change my original thought:

Life is a cabaret.

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Big Top

Big Top: (n) the main tent in a circus.

Dictionary B

The circus smells like elephant poop.

That’s my main memory from the only time I went there at twelve years of age.

I had this strange sensation of smelling pachyderm droppings while simultaneously eating cotton candy. It was a disturbing mixture.

I was a chubby fellow, so when the clowns came out to perform, one of the jokesters targeted me, using mime to imitate my tubbiness, to the delight of children nearby. Obviously lacking some training in sensitivity, the bozo continued to do so until the laughter subsided.

So to a certain degree, I was very happy when the elephants arrived and I was no longer the largest in the tent.

The circus was impressive.

There were things flying in the air, fire spewing from the mouths of entertainers, and all sorts of horses running in circles with brightly-colored saddles, which were ever-so-faintly fading through years of use.

I worked really hard to be a fan.

I oohed and aahed on cue, making it clear to all my friends around me that I was an appreciator.

But as I left the tent, even though I was just a kid, I sensed that these professionals were working awfully hard to make life fun. Matter of fact, when I hear people draw the parallel that “life is a circus,” I think to myself, no, it’s not.

Actually, our goal is to make sure that life doesn’t become a funeral … by adding just enough clowns, dancing monkeys and corn dogs.

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Bagpipes

Bagpipes: (n) a musical instrument with reed pipes, esp. associated with ScotlandDictionary B

I have yet to figure out how to be nice and honest at the same time.

  • The pursuit of nice is essential to the human race–otherwise we will constantly be on the verge of grumpy, lending itself to war.
  • The quest for honesty is equally as important, or we will be labeled as deceptive or openly proclaimed a liar.
  • The trick is in blending the two.

Case in point: traveling on the road, playing an instrument and performing always, after the show, tends to draw individuals to me who are also aspiring artisans.

On one such occasion, a gentleman walked up and said that he had played his instrument for twenty-five years. I admired him for longevity of his craft.

He said to me, “Would you like to hear my instrument? It’s just out in the trunk.”

I should have come up with a quick excuse to escape the moment by pleading some form of busy activity. but I got cornered by my own lack of response and replied, “Well, I’ve got a few minutes…”

He disappeared and shortly came back in–carrying bagpipes.

My skin actually crawled. (I realized that this is not just a saying but an actual physical condition.)

For the next twenty minutes I received not only a concert, but instruction on correct ways to breathe and squeeze, in order to become an accomplished bagpipesman.

I did not have the heart to tell this man that bagpipes give me the creeps. Even during the traditional use of them, playing Amazing Grace at a funeral, I often find myself thinking, “Was there no flute available?”

But in my desire to be nice, I ended up being dishonest, which placed upon me the burden of appearing interested.

Fortunately, he finally disengaged himself because he was too busy to continue the lesson. He apologized for his necessary departure.

I do not know if I will ever be able to balance the quality of cordiality with the action of truthfulness, but I can guarantee you that I will never allow myself to be trapped in a room again…with a set of bagpipes.Donate Button

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