Circumlocution

When I was growing up, if our Mother used a word that I didn't understand, she'd tell me to look it up.  As a result, I fell in love with words.  The more clever a usage of the word, the more thrilled I'd be.  I appreciate wordsmiths. 

After I attended college, I became aware that certain people were simply better at using language.  No matter, I still appreciated the dexterity, the agility, the absolute mastery that some people possessed.  Make no mistake, some people, in my opinion, took it too far.  William Buckley, for example made being intelligent sound utterly pretentious, whatever his politics. 

I have a book somewhere entitled Storied Stadiums by Curt Smith, a former speechwriter for the first President Bush.  It's about all the baseball stadia have ever been used in the majors.  Aside from factual errors, the book is so turgid (...) with heavy vocabulary that it's virtually unintelligible.  When I can locate the book in my dungeon library, I'll post some snippets from the book.  In the meantime, lest the reader think I'm overstating the case, here are some other reviews of the book from readers:

http://www.amazon.com/Storied-Stadiums-Baseballs-History-Ballparks/product-reviews/B001G8WDBY/ref=cm_cr_pr_hist_1?ie=UTF8&filterBy=addOneStar&showViewpoints=0

There are other people who take a stab at using language who, frankly, should stay away from it altogether.  One of the funniest things I've seen on TV was a socialite who was quite impressed that she'd been put on the cover of some local socialites' magazine.  Turning to the camera, she said it was a real coup d'etat to be on the cover.  Presumably, it was a bloodless coup getting on the cover, because she bore no visible scars.

I bring this up because oftentimes I choose precisely the funny sounding word when I'm goofing around. This brings Karen no end of mirth.  She shakes her head and mutters just loud enough for me to know she's said something, Who talks like that?  On the occasions that I hear her say that, I tell her Sheldon Cooper does.

This morning after I fed the boys I was wrestling with Custer and Stonewall at the top of the stairs.  For whatever reason, this is one of Custer's favorite pastimes:  Attack daddy at the landing or the top of the stairs.  I indulge him since is goes a way to tiring him out, and a tired Custer means peace and tranquility for the rest of us, so long as Stonewall doesn't violate his canine space. 

I have a mole of sorts just above my right elbow on the outside of my upper arm.  Custer, it would appear, views this as an alternate nipple, because he often goes for it when he's not biting my wrist or lower arm.  When he does this, I push him away, telling him that's not a nipple.  This morning, after about the third time Custer went for it, I asked him derisively -- as if he'd understand -- Custer, do you want a post-prandial snack?

This ticked Karen to no end.  I was joking around with Cus and this is the first phrase that came to mind.  I wasn't trying to be pretentious, but for whatever reason, that was the phrase that occurred to me.  Karen just shook her head and laughed.

I will admit that I am prone to coming up with words that aren't in the mainstream.  That's a combined result of my upbringing, my education and my love of language.  This has resulted in my being branded as snooty, although that's said by one person and partly in jest.  It's also intimidated people -- much to my surprise.  But I can no more change who I am than a beautiful person can change her beauty, a tall person change his height or a man become a woman (please, no Chaz Bono arguments).

Now I'm going to repair to my atheneum to peruse some tracts whilst I footle with a cold beverage, surrounded by man's faithful quadripedal companions.

In other words, I'm going to take a break and read a bit while I enjoy an iced tea with the dogs at my feet.

(c) 2012 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles