Posted in Uncategorized

Ginormous: “I’m a Real Boy!”

According to Boston.com Merriam Webster added the word “ginormous” to the dictionary. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I kind of liked using the word because it wasn’t a word. And now it is one. Where does that leave me?

I don’t know.

I may continue to use it, I’ll just have to wait for an appropriate opportunity.

A little personal aside on this topic – back in about 1985 or 86, when I was attending St. Joseph College in West Hartford, getting an English degree (hard to tell, huh?) I took an etymology class (that’s words, not bugs). Sr. Mary Joan Cook, the professor, took us on a field trip to Merriam Webster. Talk about exciting! It was a big building full of little pieces of paper with words on them. Literally. Picture the old card catalogs at your local library, multiply that by 100 and that’s what the words were stored on. The committee would review new words every year, based on usage in publications they recognized as legitimate (New York Times vs. a comic book). The ones with the most cache and the most likely to be long-lived made the cut and got added, and a couple of Olde Tyme words would drop off to make room. So I am very familiar, actually, with the process they follow, although I’m hoping to God that a lot of the physical paper copies of words and definitions and articles have made their way to some sort of electronic media. That place was a major fire hazard.

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Posted in Uncategorized

Ginormous: "I’m a Real Boy!"

According to Boston.com Merriam Webster added the word “ginormous” to the dictionary. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I kind of liked using the word because it wasn’t a word. And now it is one. Where does that leave me?

I don’t know.

I may continue to use it, I’ll just have to wait for an appropriate opportunity.

A little personal aside on this topic – back in about 1985 or 86, when I was attending St. Joseph College in West Hartford, getting an English degree (hard to tell, huh?) I took an etymology class (that’s words, not bugs). Sr. Mary Joan Cook, the professor, took us on a field trip to Merriam Webster. Talk about exciting! It was a big building full of little pieces of paper with words on them. Literally. Picture the old card catalogs at your local library, multiply that by 100 and that’s what the words were stored on. The committee would review new words every year, based on usage in publications they recognized as legitimate (New York Times vs. a comic book). The ones with the most cache and the most likely to be long-lived made the cut and got added, and a couple of Olde Tyme words would drop off to make room. So I am very familiar, actually, with the process they follow, although I’m hoping to God that a lot of the physical paper copies of words and definitions and articles have made their way to some sort of electronic media. That place was a major fire hazard.

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Posted in photos

gumball wine


gumball wine, originally uploaded by Big DumpTruck.

I was going to slow down on blogging about the photos I’ve added to my photostream over at Flickr, but the photo above has zoomed up higher in Flickr’s “Explore” than anything I’ve ever done. It hit #26 for July 6th, and I am just so pleased! It certainly makes me want to take more gumball photos.

The problem is that we keep eating the raw materials.

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Posted in Uncategorized

Li’l Herb Alpert Junior

I’m scared. Really scared. Today, Junior takes his first trumpet lesson. Are you listening? Trumpet. Meaning he has to practice. In my house.

Flash back a billion years ago to the year 1976. Little Jody B went to a presentation by the music teacher about all the different band instruments available to the kids at Priest Street School. And Little Jody B chose….the trumpet. Well, I wanted to play the coronet, but the school rental instruments didn’t have one, only a slightly dinged-up trumpet. So for two years, I took trumpet lessons at school, the highlight of which was my solo performance at the annual talent show of the Carpenter’s song “Close to You.” My mom still speaks in awed tones of the brilliance of my performance, and her disappointment that we didn’t continue on with the trumpet when I moved up to junior high, because I wanted to take chorus and you couldn’t do both.

I’m still scared that a 10 year old boy will be practicing trumpet in my house. I remember what my first weeks were like 31 or so years ago. (Good Lord! 31?) It wasn’t pretty.

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