Summary: Today it's your turn to look up a word and see what you can find. Share your findings in a comment post—and you could win a prize!
Recently, I read a newspaper article that I'm sure was written by an A.P. reporter. What makes me say that? Why the use of only one word: truculent.
Want to know what it means? Well, for today anyway, you're on your own. Use the remainder of this week to do a little searching (here's a nice list of e-dictionaries to help you with your search), and post your findings in the comments section of this blog post. The first person to correctly respond in each category—definition, etymology and pronunciation (we love sound files here!)—will win a nice prize: a free e-workbook titled "Speak Your Truth: How to Say What You Mean to Get What You Want."
Ready, set, search!
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Showing posts with label WOW. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WOW. Show all posts
Jul 21, 2011
Jul 12, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Salubrious
Summary: Do you like word games and building your vocabulary? Read today's post to do a little of both. It's good for your (mental) health ...
In a fit of momentary boredom while trying to decide on this week's WOW (Word of the Week), I played a word game on Merriam-Webster.com. Okay, it's not so much a game as it is a quiz—but to word nerds like me, word quizzes are lots of fun! ... Just more so when you're 'winning.' And, yes, by winning I mean getting all the answers right.
I was not doing so well, myself. The 10-second timer at M-W.com really threw me off. I'm much better on FreeRice.com, where timing isn't everything, but knowing the right word meaning is. (And correct answers help feed the hungry, too.) Despite my struggling to click on the correct definitions to words I already knew (seriously), I was somewhat strangely relieved when I received the visible buzzer banner for a word I didn't know: salubrious.
Salubrious (Suh - LOO - BREE - uss) – (adj.) healthful; promoting health and well-being. First used in the mid-16th century, this word comes from the Latin salubris, which shares the same definition. It's also related to another Latin word, salvus, meaning safe. Its opposite is, not surprisingly, insalubrious. For example: Smoking is a rather insalubrious way to deal with stress.
So, now we both know another new word. Don't forget to click on the pronunciation link above to hear just how to say it.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
In a fit of momentary boredom while trying to decide on this week's WOW (Word of the Week), I played a word game on Merriam-Webster.com. Okay, it's not so much a game as it is a quiz—but to word nerds like me, word quizzes are lots of fun! ... Just more so when you're 'winning.' And, yes, by winning I mean getting all the answers right.
I was not doing so well, myself. The 10-second timer at M-W.com really threw me off. I'm much better on FreeRice.com, where timing isn't everything, but knowing the right word meaning is. (And correct answers help feed the hungry, too.) Despite my struggling to click on the correct definitions to words I already knew (seriously), I was somewhat strangely relieved when I received the visible buzzer banner for a word I didn't know: salubrious.
Salubrious (Suh - LOO - BREE - uss) – (adj.) healthful; promoting health and well-being. First used in the mid-16th century, this word comes from the Latin salubris, which shares the same definition. It's also related to another Latin word, salvus, meaning safe. Its opposite is, not surprisingly, insalubrious. For example: Smoking is a rather insalubrious way to deal with stress.
So, now we both know another new word. Don't forget to click on the pronunciation link above to hear just how to say it.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Jun 27, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Superlative
Summary: You've wanted the longest time for the return of the WOW. Well, wait no more, my biggest fan. This post—and its special word, superlative—is for you!
After posting relatively recently about the BEST WORD IN THE WORLD (hyperbole, of course), I've found myself drawn to some of its cousins—like today's featured word, superlative.
Superlative (soo - PUHR - la - TIV) - (adj.) excessive; supreme; surpassing; high quality; exaggerated. Most commonly, it refers to other words that are used to describe something with these qualities. You could say that it falls just shy of hyperbole.
First used in English in the 1300s, its Middle English spelling was superlatif. Its heritage comes most immediately from the Anglo-French word superlativus, which derives from the Latin superlatus, meaning to carry over high. Merriam-Webster.com—my favorite online dictionary, and the site I owe thanks to for regular pronunciation links like the one above—cites the following examples of superlatives: nicest, worst, and most interesting.
And did I mention: If you've missed the WOW Word of the Week posts as much as I have over the last couple of weeks, then you're the absolute coolest person I know? Those superlatives aren't just hyperbole, either.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
After posting relatively recently about the BEST WORD IN THE WORLD (hyperbole, of course), I've found myself drawn to some of its cousins—like today's featured word, superlative.
Superlative (soo - PUHR - la - TIV) - (adj.) excessive; supreme; surpassing; high quality; exaggerated. Most commonly, it refers to other words that are used to describe something with these qualities. You could say that it falls just shy of hyperbole.
First used in English in the 1300s, its Middle English spelling was superlatif. Its heritage comes most immediately from the Anglo-French word superlativus, which derives from the Latin superlatus, meaning to carry over high. Merriam-Webster.com—my favorite online dictionary, and the site I owe thanks to for regular pronunciation links like the one above—cites the following examples of superlatives: nicest, worst, and most interesting.
And did I mention: If you've missed the WOW Word of the Week posts as much as I have over the last couple of weeks, then you're the absolute coolest person I know? Those superlatives aren't just hyperbole, either.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Jun 6, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Eosophilia
Summary: I dedicate this week's WOW word—and today's post—to my grandmother and great-grandmother, who have surely shown their own eosophilia in the purest form ...
Over the weekend, during a long drive, I had the opportunity to hear two—that's right, two—different talk radio programs about words. Imagine my joy! It practically made up for the fact that I was only able to tune in to these stations for 20 minutes or less before they faded.
And what completely made up for that fact was that I learned new words, one of which I find to be completely beautiful in sound, spelling and definition:
Eosophilia (EE - os - o - FEE - lee - ya) - (n.) love of the dawn. It comes from the Greek word for dawn, eos (which when capitalized just happens to be the name of the mythological Goddess of the Dawn), as well as the Greek for friendship, philos, a word that nowadays in its long form (philia) implies fanaticism. Etymonline.com, my go-to site for etymological history, doesn't say when the word entered the English language. That in and of itself implies that it's been with us always ... perhaps since the dawn of English? I wasn't able to find a sound byte of the pronunciation, either—something I typically like to share with every Word of the Week.
To make up for that, I'll share with you a personal family story:
I'm dedicating this word to my grandmother, otherwise known as Mamaw Lovadawn, whose name is a countrified derivation of "love the dawn," and to her mother (my great grandmother, Mamaw Bee) who named her. In the Pueblo Native American tradition of her family, Mamaw Bee waited to name her daughter 'til after the little girl was born. She was handed her newborn at sunrise, and watching the dawn break over the horizon, she felt an explosion of love in her heart even amidst the exhaustion of childbirth labor. It was love like she'd never felt before, and she named the child for that feeling and their maternal bond. Mamaw Lovadawn is as sassy as Mamaw Bee ever was and ever wanted her own daughter to be. The half-Pueblo, half-Irish American flapper-turned-mother instilled in all of her girl descendants a take-charge, take-no-guff attitude that manages to come out of even me when I'm crossed. ... And did I mention my middle name is Dawn? My matriline has a fiery life spark that is deeply connected to the same passion found in any common eosophiliac.
Thanks for letting me share a little bit of our story. May you greet the dawn of each new day this week with gratitude.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Over the weekend, during a long drive, I had the opportunity to hear two—that's right, two—different talk radio programs about words. Imagine my joy! It practically made up for the fact that I was only able to tune in to these stations for 20 minutes or less before they faded.
And what completely made up for that fact was that I learned new words, one of which I find to be completely beautiful in sound, spelling and definition:
Eosophilia (EE - os - o - FEE - lee - ya) - (n.) love of the dawn. It comes from the Greek word for dawn, eos (which when capitalized just happens to be the name of the mythological Goddess of the Dawn), as well as the Greek for friendship, philos, a word that nowadays in its long form (philia) implies fanaticism. Etymonline.com, my go-to site for etymological history, doesn't say when the word entered the English language. That in and of itself implies that it's been with us always ... perhaps since the dawn of English? I wasn't able to find a sound byte of the pronunciation, either—something I typically like to share with every Word of the Week.
To make up for that, I'll share with you a personal family story:
I'm dedicating this word to my grandmother, otherwise known as Mamaw Lovadawn, whose name is a countrified derivation of "love the dawn," and to her mother (my great grandmother, Mamaw Bee) who named her. In the Pueblo Native American tradition of her family, Mamaw Bee waited to name her daughter 'til after the little girl was born. She was handed her newborn at sunrise, and watching the dawn break over the horizon, she felt an explosion of love in her heart even amidst the exhaustion of childbirth labor. It was love like she'd never felt before, and she named the child for that feeling and their maternal bond. Mamaw Lovadawn is as sassy as Mamaw Bee ever was and ever wanted her own daughter to be. The half-Pueblo, half-Irish American flapper-turned-mother instilled in all of her girl descendants a take-charge, take-no-guff attitude that manages to come out of even me when I'm crossed. ... And did I mention my middle name is Dawn? My matriline has a fiery life spark that is deeply connected to the same passion found in any common eosophiliac.
Thanks for letting me share a little bit of our story. May you greet the dawn of each new day this week with gratitude.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
May 31, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Pastiche
Summary: I've always been a little fuzzy on the word pastiche. Is it a food? An art form? A style of building designs? ... Or is it possibly all of the above and then some?
As you've surely learned by now, I often use this blog to teach myself new words. It's one of the perks of being the blogger who makes those decisions—such as, "What will be the WOW, or Word of the Week, this time?" (And "Do I still blog on Memorial Day if I'm taking the rest of the day off of work?" To that one, I decided this year the answer would be, "Nah, that's okay.")
So today, there's a word I'm having a hard time using correctly. And that word is pastiche. Let's learn a little bit about it together:
Pastiche (pass - TEESH) - (n.) a literary, artistic, musical or even architectural composition that either imitates a previous style or is made up of selections from different works.
Synonyms for the latter definition include potpourri and hodgepodge. But when it comes to the first definition, that's where I draw a blank. It doesn't help that the word, a French word (for "medley of different works") derived from Italian, sounds like some sort of food to me—like an even more delicious pistachio. Its sound reminds me of a dessert. And my instincts aren't that far off: It turns out the Italian word, pasticcio, also means "pastry cake" and is linked to the word pasta. (Mmm, pastry cake ...)
What connects so many different ideas—pasta, cake, artistic medleys? Etymology can answer that question, too. The original Latin word pasticium means "composed of paste," or "pasted together." Like dough (in both cake and pasta), a pastiche of artistic styles is often kneaded with love to rise high in the hearts of intended admirers.
If you love pastries, words and art blends, join me in homage to all at my friend Jama Finney's deliciously artistic web store, CakeZen. It's a veritable pastiche of pastry and party styles!
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
As you've surely learned by now, I often use this blog to teach myself new words. It's one of the perks of being the blogger who makes those decisions—such as, "What will be the WOW, or Word of the Week, this time?" (And "Do I still blog on Memorial Day if I'm taking the rest of the day off of work?" To that one, I decided this year the answer would be, "Nah, that's okay.")
So today, there's a word I'm having a hard time using correctly. And that word is pastiche. Let's learn a little bit about it together:
Pastiche (pass - TEESH) - (n.) a literary, artistic, musical or even architectural composition that either imitates a previous style or is made up of selections from different works.
Synonyms for the latter definition include potpourri and hodgepodge. But when it comes to the first definition, that's where I draw a blank. It doesn't help that the word, a French word (for "medley of different works") derived from Italian, sounds like some sort of food to me—like an even more delicious pistachio. Its sound reminds me of a dessert. And my instincts aren't that far off: It turns out the Italian word, pasticcio, also means "pastry cake" and is linked to the word pasta. (Mmm, pastry cake ...)
What connects so many different ideas—pasta, cake, artistic medleys? Etymology can answer that question, too. The original Latin word pasticium means "composed of paste," or "pasted together." Like dough (in both cake and pasta), a pastiche of artistic styles is often kneaded with love to rise high in the hearts of intended admirers.
If you love pastries, words and art blends, join me in homage to all at my friend Jama Finney's deliciously artistic web store, CakeZen. It's a veritable pastiche of pastry and party styles!
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
May 23, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Epaulet
Summary: Whether you've fought for freedom or just like military chic, you may have wondered why so many of your clothes have these little attachments on the shoulders .... Today's post has links to answers—and a lesson on just what to call those doo-hickeys and thing-a-ma-bobs.
You know those cool shoulder straps that look so good on military clothes? Whether it's fashion or function, what in the heck do you call them? The answer is epaulets. But can you pronounce that word? If you're like me, then the answer is no. So, click the pronunciation link below to learn!
(Note: Every week, I include a link like this to the WOW, or Word of the Week. The code that follows the link and the dash—and is also always listed in parentheses—stands for adjective, verb or in this case, noun.)
Epaulet (EP - uh - LET) - (n.) something that ornaments or protects the shoulder, often as a fringed pad or a loop that's buttoned or sewn.
The word is French, also spelled epaulette, a diminutive version of the word epaulé for shoulder. It was brought into English in the very late 1700s and is actually related to the word spatula, which once simply defined a flat piece of wood. (Originally, most militaries' shoulder-protecting epaulets were often made of wood.) Because of this relationship, epaulet is a many-generational descendant of the Greek word spathe, meaning a broad, flat sword. What appropriate battle roots!
Want to learn more about the actual item, itself, than just the word history? Check out these lengths for images (showing, among other things, that epaulets have migrated off the shoulders in contemporary civilian fashion) and multi-national military uniform history:
Google images
Wiki history
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
You know those cool shoulder straps that look so good on military clothes? Whether it's fashion or function, what in the heck do you call them? The answer is epaulets. But can you pronounce that word? If you're like me, then the answer is no. So, click the pronunciation link below to learn!
(Note: Every week, I include a link like this to the WOW, or Word of the Week. The code that follows the link and the dash—and is also always listed in parentheses—stands for adjective, verb or in this case, noun.)
Epaulet (EP - uh - LET) - (n.) something that ornaments or protects the shoulder, often as a fringed pad or a loop that's buttoned or sewn.
The word is French, also spelled epaulette, a diminutive version of the word epaulé for shoulder. It was brought into English in the very late 1700s and is actually related to the word spatula, which once simply defined a flat piece of wood. (Originally, most militaries' shoulder-protecting epaulets were often made of wood.) Because of this relationship, epaulet is a many-generational descendant of the Greek word spathe, meaning a broad, flat sword. What appropriate battle roots!
Want to learn more about the actual item, itself, than just the word history? Check out these lengths for images (showing, among other things, that epaulets have migrated off the shoulders in contemporary civilian fashion) and multi-national military uniform history:
Google images
Wiki history
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
May 9, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Venal
Summary: Short but sweet, today's post gives you the low-down on a dirty practice defined by this week's word.
This week's WOW is also today's (Monday's) Word of the Day at Merriam-Webster.com: venal.
Venal (VEE - nuhl) - (adj.) capable of being bought, bribed or otherwise corrupted; also associated with or characterized by bribery. The word comes from the Latin venum, which "simply refer(s) to something sold or for sale" (M-W.com). Perhaps from the common occurrences of cheating, bribing and other questionable merchant's practices, the word—entered into English in the 1600s with the simpler definition of bargaining or haggling—began to take on a slightly more sinister definition. Vend has the same root word heritage, but has kept its straightforward meaning.
Click here to read about the similar-sounding but unrelated word venial, along with even more about this week's word.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
This week's WOW is also today's (Monday's) Word of the Day at Merriam-Webster.com: venal.
Venal (VEE - nuhl) - (adj.) capable of being bought, bribed or otherwise corrupted; also associated with or characterized by bribery. The word comes from the Latin venum, which "simply refer(s) to something sold or for sale" (M-W.com). Perhaps from the common occurrences of cheating, bribing and other questionable merchant's practices, the word—entered into English in the 1600s with the simpler definition of bargaining or haggling—began to take on a slightly more sinister definition. Vend has the same root word heritage, but has kept its straightforward meaning.
Click here to read about the similar-sounding but unrelated word venial, along with even more about this week's word.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
May 3, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Hyperbole
Summary: High drama aside, today's word comes not from your suggestions (though they're always welcome), but from a word I heard in passing: hyperbole ...
This week, I had no less than three people comment to me, "Why haven't you blogged about our word yet?" Then I needed to be reminded just which word each one was talking about.
As I go throughout my regular day, it's second nature for me to hold conversations about interesting words or turns of phrase that catch my ear (or eye in print)—and just as common for me to mention off-handedly to whomever is near, "This will make a really good WOW word for my blog." It turns out, you guys are paying attention!
When I sit down to write, however, I'm subject to the usual lapses of memory that many of us humans are prone to, and I tend to pull out the handiest word I can think of (often the most recent word discussed).
Today is no different: All three of you, friends, are going to have to wait at least another week, as I blog today about a word that caught my ear in passing: hyperbole.
Hyperbole (HY - PER - bow - lee) - (n.) an extravagant exaggeration, as in "I ran to the moon and back to make her happy" or the commonly spoken, "I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse." From the Greek words hyper (for beyond) and ballein (meaning to throw), hyperbole is actually a conjugation of this compound word that was passed down into Latin and English, with its first recorded English usage in the 1520s. The word itself is a bit hyperbolic, since the Greek word bole literally means "a throwing or casting; the stroke of a missile, bolt or beam."
But don't worry: I'll get around to the other words you're longing to read about ... probably sometime in the next century or two.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
This week, I had no less than three people comment to me, "Why haven't you blogged about our word yet?" Then I needed to be reminded just which word each one was talking about.
As I go throughout my regular day, it's second nature for me to hold conversations about interesting words or turns of phrase that catch my ear (or eye in print)—and just as common for me to mention off-handedly to whomever is near, "This will make a really good WOW word for my blog." It turns out, you guys are paying attention!
When I sit down to write, however, I'm subject to the usual lapses of memory that many of us humans are prone to, and I tend to pull out the handiest word I can think of (often the most recent word discussed).
Today is no different: All three of you, friends, are going to have to wait at least another week, as I blog today about a word that caught my ear in passing: hyperbole.
Hyperbole (HY - PER - bow - lee) - (n.) an extravagant exaggeration, as in "I ran to the moon and back to make her happy" or the commonly spoken, "I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse." From the Greek words hyper (for beyond) and ballein (meaning to throw), hyperbole is actually a conjugation of this compound word that was passed down into Latin and English, with its first recorded English usage in the 1520s. The word itself is a bit hyperbolic, since the Greek word bole literally means "a throwing or casting; the stroke of a missile, bolt or beam."
But don't worry: I'll get around to the other words you're longing to read about ... probably sometime in the next century or two.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Apr 25, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Bibliophile
Summary: If you love books as much as I do, there's one word in particular you should know: bibliophile.
As you can see from my most recent blog post, I LOVE books! I'm so into books that if you called me a bibliophile, I would curtsy in humble thanks.
And if you ever do call me a bibliophile, you'd better know what it means:
Bibliophile (BIB - LEE - o - fiyl) - (n.) a lover of or collector of books. From the French (and earlier Greek) words bibli (or biblion, both meaning book) and phile, or friend, it's literally translated as book friend. That's me!
Check out Merriam-Webster.com's extended definition, similar words and sample sentence here.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
As you can see from my most recent blog post, I LOVE books! I'm so into books that if you called me a bibliophile, I would curtsy in humble thanks.
And if you ever do call me a bibliophile, you'd better know what it means:
Bibliophile (BIB - LEE - o - fiyl) - (n.) a lover of or collector of books. From the French (and earlier Greek) words bibli (or biblion, both meaning book) and phile, or friend, it's literally translated as book friend. That's me!
Check out Merriam-Webster.com's extended definition, similar words and sample sentence here.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Apr 11, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Oporopolist
Summary: I'm a strong advocate of adoption. That goes for words, too! Today, I adopted a word of my very own: oporopolist. What can you tell me about my new little bundle?
Today is a special day, for today I am the proud new mama of a very special word. That's right: I just adopted a word from SaveTheWords.org—the site that asks you to help keep old words, words that have lost their space in the dictionary, within circulation in the English language. And just like when I adopted my very own Cabbage Patch Doll in 1982, I now have the opportunity to sport a t-shirt announcing my new ownership.
But I also get to do so much more.
With Amy Patsy (the CP, of course—who was, to my dismay, already named when we met), I got to braid her hair and unbraid her hair and put it up in a pony tail and then take it down and re-braid it ... and of course, to keep smelling and re-smelling her eternally powder fresh face. But with oporopolist, my options are immensely greater.
For example, I can share oporopolist with you, and you can take her home and use her (or him, I guess) with your own group of friends even while I use her with new people I meet! Ah, if only that had been the case with Amy Patsy. My sisters and I could have avoided so many childhood arguments. ("Don't unbraid Amy Patsy's hair! You make her pony tails lopsided! I'll get you back: Now she's going to wear YOUR doll's dress!" Etc.) I'm sure my mother would have much rather sprung for the t-shirt for oporopolist (a lot less expensive than custom-made cheerleading costumes for our CPs) just for a little peace in the house. Although, she may have eventually tired of hearing her 9-year-old say things like, "Are we going to the farmer's market this weekend? I can't wait to get some ripe watermelon from the oporopolist's stand." Then again, she may have thought it was adorable.
Oporopolist - (n.) A fruit-seller. Unfortunately, because this word has been replaced in the dictionary (by the word fruitier, possibly, or fruiterer even), I cannot share with you the pronunciation or etymology at this time. But if you find it in your out-dated dictionary, please share it with me!
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Today is a special day, for today I am the proud new mama of a very special word. That's right: I just adopted a word from SaveTheWords.org—the site that asks you to help keep old words, words that have lost their space in the dictionary, within circulation in the English language. And just like when I adopted my very own Cabbage Patch Doll in 1982, I now have the opportunity to sport a t-shirt announcing my new ownership.
But I also get to do so much more.
With Amy Patsy (the CP, of course—who was, to my dismay, already named when we met), I got to braid her hair and unbraid her hair and put it up in a pony tail and then take it down and re-braid it ... and of course, to keep smelling and re-smelling her eternally powder fresh face. But with oporopolist, my options are immensely greater.
For example, I can share oporopolist with you, and you can take her home and use her (or him, I guess) with your own group of friends even while I use her with new people I meet! Ah, if only that had been the case with Amy Patsy. My sisters and I could have avoided so many childhood arguments. ("Don't unbraid Amy Patsy's hair! You make her pony tails lopsided! I'll get you back: Now she's going to wear YOUR doll's dress!" Etc.) I'm sure my mother would have much rather sprung for the t-shirt for oporopolist (a lot less expensive than custom-made cheerleading costumes for our CPs) just for a little peace in the house. Although, she may have eventually tired of hearing her 9-year-old say things like, "Are we going to the farmer's market this weekend? I can't wait to get some ripe watermelon from the oporopolist's stand." Then again, she may have thought it was adorable.
Oporopolist - (n.) A fruit-seller. Unfortunately, because this word has been replaced in the dictionary (by the word fruitier, possibly, or fruiterer even), I cannot share with you the pronunciation or etymology at this time. But if you find it in your out-dated dictionary, please share it with me!
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Apr 4, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Chivy
Summary: Chasing down some clues to my break time crossword puzzle today, I came across a word I'd never heard before—chivy, with both its spellings and meanings.
Today was like Christmas in ... April (though I've never heard of such a thing 'til now). Taking a little break in the early evening, I worked a crossword puzzle in the big book of New York Times crossword puzzles that my husband got me last year as a stocking stuffer. It was a challenge! And, of course, I learned a new word:
Chivy (CHIH - vee) - (v.) Alternatively spelled with two Vs, chivvy has two meanings, as well, no matter how you spell it. Most commonly, it means to tease or annoy with persistent, petty attacks—as in, "The guys at the work site continued to chivy and chide each other all day long as a way to pass the time." In its secondary meaning, it means to move or obtain by small maneuvers. Merriam-Webster.com uses this example: "Chivy an olive out of the bottle."
The two definitions have their roots in a common theme. Harassment, or chasing, both come from the word chevy, likely the word that chivy (or chivvy) derived from as early as the 1830s in American English.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Today was like Christmas in ... April (though I've never heard of such a thing 'til now). Taking a little break in the early evening, I worked a crossword puzzle in the big book of New York Times crossword puzzles that my husband got me last year as a stocking stuffer. It was a challenge! And, of course, I learned a new word:
Chivy (CHIH - vee) - (v.) Alternatively spelled with two Vs, chivvy has two meanings, as well, no matter how you spell it. Most commonly, it means to tease or annoy with persistent, petty attacks—as in, "The guys at the work site continued to chivy and chide each other all day long as a way to pass the time." In its secondary meaning, it means to move or obtain by small maneuvers. Merriam-Webster.com uses this example: "Chivy an olive out of the bottle."
The two definitions have their roots in a common theme. Harassment, or chasing, both come from the word chevy, likely the word that chivy (or chivvy) derived from as early as the 1830s in American English.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Mar 28, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Elysian
Summary: Here's one of the prettiest words I know—elysian—complete with background, history and famous usages.
In keeping with the pretty-versus-ugly word theme from Friday's post (dated incorrectly in display), I want to second Kathy's comment to Mark Nichols' Daily Writing Tips blog post on the same subject. She shares:
"I have always thought this was a beautiful-sounding word, meaning 'paradise.' Evidently, the ancient Greeks did, too; Hades is not so pleasant."
The beautiful word she's talking about is elysian, which was where Greek heroes were thought to dwell after their noble deaths. Hades was sort of their version of Hell, or the underworld. Here's more:
Elysian (ill - IH - ZHEN) also pronounced with the long E sound (ee - LEE - ZHYEN), which is my favorite pronunciation - (adj.) blissful, delightful, paradisical, heavenly. The first known use of this word is in 1579. It originates from the Greek word Elysium which is the proper name given to the Greek version of Heaven or Nirvana or most similarly Valhalla. Interestingly enough, however, Elysium was actually located inside of Hades, as it was the only 'place' for souls to go to, and this heavenly spot was reserved for the heroic and the virtuous. It was often depicted as a beautiful and serene field of flowers.
Poets often refer to the "elysian fields" as nature (most famously by Henry David Thoreau) or, of course, Heaven (e.g., Edna St. Vincent Millay's I Dreamed I Moved Among the Elysian Fields)—although these days, one Google search warrants results on everything from rock bands to microbreweries to towns in Texas and New Jersey. So be it. To me, the word is very melodic.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
In keeping with the pretty-versus-ugly word theme from Friday's post (dated incorrectly in display), I want to second Kathy's comment to Mark Nichols' Daily Writing Tips blog post on the same subject. She shares:
"I have always thought this was a beautiful-sounding word, meaning 'paradise.' Evidently, the ancient Greeks did, too; Hades is not so pleasant."
The beautiful word she's talking about is elysian, which was where Greek heroes were thought to dwell after their noble deaths. Hades was sort of their version of Hell, or the underworld. Here's more:
Elysian (ill - IH - ZHEN) also pronounced with the long E sound (ee - LEE - ZHYEN), which is my favorite pronunciation - (adj.) blissful, delightful, paradisical, heavenly. The first known use of this word is in 1579. It originates from the Greek word Elysium which is the proper name given to the Greek version of Heaven or Nirvana or most similarly Valhalla. Interestingly enough, however, Elysium was actually located inside of Hades, as it was the only 'place' for souls to go to, and this heavenly spot was reserved for the heroic and the virtuous. It was often depicted as a beautiful and serene field of flowers.
Poets often refer to the "elysian fields" as nature (most famously by Henry David Thoreau) or, of course, Heaven (e.g., Edna St. Vincent Millay's I Dreamed I Moved Among the Elysian Fields)—although these days, one Google search warrants results on everything from rock bands to microbreweries to towns in Texas and New Jersey. So be it. To me, the word is very melodic.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Mar 21, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: E.G. vs. I.E.
Summary: Two Latin abbreviations (i.e. and e.g.) are the subject of today's word study post. Do you know the right time to use which one?
This morning, in a meeting with my wonderful assistant Kim Hall (who just happens to have her own online mall), she mentioned she recently learned the proper usage between the abbreviations i.e. and e.g. My first thought was, "You mean, there's a difference?" So much for the professional editor in me.
Well, at least I knew right where to turn: Grammar Girl. The first thing this online editing guru and fellow blogger shares in her post on the subject is the actual Latin terms these abbreviations stand for—and that's where I realized I'd gone wrong. Somewhere along the way, a well-meaning English teacher had taught me that i.e. stood for "in example." But that just isn't true. Here's what is true:
I.e. = id est, or that is (as in, "that is to say" or "what I mean to say is")
E.g. = exempli gratia, or "for example"
And all this time, I thought they were interchangeable!
Here are some examples of proper usage:
1. Our brains are hard-wired, i.e., connected by dendrites and synapses, to retain information in very specific ways.
2. Because of our individuality, however, certain brain challenges can change the way we learn and store info—e.g., attention deficit disorders, autism, dyslexia, and mood disorders.
3. As a Communications Coach, I teach my clients to identify the challenges they face (e.g., nervousness or anxiety, shyness or intimidation, even innate excitement) in thinking and speaking clearly.
4. Correcting these challenges is easy: We simply start by identifying what happens in the body—i.e., answering the question, "What does your body feel like when you have a shy moment?"—and then correlate that to emotions and thoughts.
5. Ultimately, changing the thoughts you have in those moments (i.e., turning negative, secret thoughts into intentional, positive ones) can help you short-circuit the vicious cycle your body and brain have experienced in the past; with practice, I can help you achieve what my other clients have achieved: peace of mind and body, and the ability to think and speak clearly.
One of Grammar Girl's many commenters to her post stated, "I have been able to remember i.e. and e.g. by: i.e. - in essence and e.g. - example given." This is a great trick! ... Maybe my English teacher actually shared these mock abbreviations, and my mind somehow melded the two?
P.S. - If you or someone you know would like to experience the Communication Coaching process first-hand, contact me directly for rates and other info at kealah@kikiproductionsinc.com.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
This morning, in a meeting with my wonderful assistant Kim Hall (who just happens to have her own online mall), she mentioned she recently learned the proper usage between the abbreviations i.e. and e.g. My first thought was, "You mean, there's a difference?" So much for the professional editor in me.
Well, at least I knew right where to turn: Grammar Girl. The first thing this online editing guru and fellow blogger shares in her post on the subject is the actual Latin terms these abbreviations stand for—and that's where I realized I'd gone wrong. Somewhere along the way, a well-meaning English teacher had taught me that i.e. stood for "in example." But that just isn't true. Here's what is true:
I.e. = id est, or that is (as in, "that is to say" or "what I mean to say is")
E.g. = exempli gratia, or "for example"
And all this time, I thought they were interchangeable!
Here are some examples of proper usage:
1. Our brains are hard-wired, i.e., connected by dendrites and synapses, to retain information in very specific ways.
2. Because of our individuality, however, certain brain challenges can change the way we learn and store info—e.g., attention deficit disorders, autism, dyslexia, and mood disorders.
3. As a Communications Coach, I teach my clients to identify the challenges they face (e.g., nervousness or anxiety, shyness or intimidation, even innate excitement) in thinking and speaking clearly.
4. Correcting these challenges is easy: We simply start by identifying what happens in the body—i.e., answering the question, "What does your body feel like when you have a shy moment?"—and then correlate that to emotions and thoughts.
5. Ultimately, changing the thoughts you have in those moments (i.e., turning negative, secret thoughts into intentional, positive ones) can help you short-circuit the vicious cycle your body and brain have experienced in the past; with practice, I can help you achieve what my other clients have achieved: peace of mind and body, and the ability to think and speak clearly.
One of Grammar Girl's many commenters to her post stated, "I have been able to remember i.e. and e.g. by: i.e. - in essence and e.g. - example given." This is a great trick! ... Maybe my English teacher actually shared these mock abbreviations, and my mind somehow melded the two?
P.S. - If you or someone you know would like to experience the Communication Coaching process first-hand, contact me directly for rates and other info at kealah@kikiproductionsinc.com.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Mar 14, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Eclectic
Summary: What's in a word? Well, in this one, a lot—starting foremost, in my opinion, with its beauty.
Here's a word I've had on the brain for a few days: eclectic. It's just so pretty (to me, anyway).
What does it mean? Well, it's like a hodge-podge or a potpourri, only not as scattered or scented. ... And if you get that, you're as big a word nerd as I.
Eclectic (EE - KLEK - tik) - (adj.) selecting the best of various doctrines, methods or styles (as in eclectic home décor or an eclectic taste in music); also composed of different sources, or heterogeneous (i.e., an eclectic approach to spirituality). First used in English in the 1600s, the word has a bit of an eclectic background, itself: Its present definition was used in the late 1840s, however before that, it referenced a group of ancient philosophers who selected doctrines from every system. Its etymology developed eclectically, too: It derived most recently from the beautiful French word eclectique; before that, from the Greek eklektikos (literally "picking out"); and before that from the ancient Greek eklegein, meaning to gather or choose in a lecture.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Here's a word I've had on the brain for a few days: eclectic. It's just so pretty (to me, anyway).
What does it mean? Well, it's like a hodge-podge or a potpourri, only not as scattered or scented. ... And if you get that, you're as big a word nerd as I.
Eclectic (EE - KLEK - tik) - (adj.) selecting the best of various doctrines, methods or styles (as in eclectic home décor or an eclectic taste in music); also composed of different sources, or heterogeneous (i.e., an eclectic approach to spirituality). First used in English in the 1600s, the word has a bit of an eclectic background, itself: Its present definition was used in the late 1840s, however before that, it referenced a group of ancient philosophers who selected doctrines from every system. Its etymology developed eclectically, too: It derived most recently from the beautiful French word eclectique; before that, from the Greek eklektikos (literally "picking out"); and before that from the ancient Greek eklegein, meaning to gather or choose in a lecture.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Mar 7, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Agrestic
Summary: What's your ideal car? What's your ideal word to describe your ideal car? Get ready for a fun game you, too, can play with your very own in-laws—or any of your friends who share the same nerdy interests as you (and me and my in-laws) ...
You'd be surprised how often words come up in my casual conversations—as subject matter, that is. A couple of weekends ago, for instance, while hanging out with my sisters-in-law (who, I was thrilled to learn, are new fans of the blog), we started talking about various colloquialisms. A little bit later, my brother-in-law, a mechanic who owns his own shop (and for whom cars come up in casual conversation all the time) started a fun game of assigning ideal car types to all of us sitting around the table. But when it came to assigning a car to our 20-year-old nephew, our nephew balked.
"Why is that my ideal car?" He didn't think it suited him.
But my brother-in-law tried to enlighten him: "No, it's sports-like, but country—er, you know, country-like. But sophisticated. ... What's the word?" He looked at me. "There's got to be a word that means both active and country with sophistication."
I ran through my mental list: "Jaunty?"
"No."
"Rustic?"
"Kind of."
"Sporty."
"No. You were closer with rustic, but that doesn't convey the sports part."
"But it's definitely not sporty?"
"No." I whipped out my cell phone and jumped online, heading straight to one of my favorite sites, OneLook.com. After an introduction to this site to everyone at the table (and a little discussion about whether or not reverse dictionaries are technically cheating at crossword puzzles), I ran through the list—and that's when I spotted a word that caught everyone's attention: today's WOW, agrestic.
Agrestic (uh - GRES - tik) - rural, rustic, unpolished or awkward. While it doesn't mean all of these definitions at once, but rather one (the first two words) or the other (the last two), its origins come from the Latin agrest, or fields. It entered English around 1620.
**NOTE: Be sure to click the little sound symbol next to the word if you follow the link above in an effort to hear the pronunciation.**
We never did quite find the exact right word that my brother-in-law was searching for. I settled in on jaunty and used it with relish for the rest of the night—much to my nephew's chagrin. Funny, I don't even remember the car ...
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
You'd be surprised how often words come up in my casual conversations—as subject matter, that is. A couple of weekends ago, for instance, while hanging out with my sisters-in-law (who, I was thrilled to learn, are new fans of the blog), we started talking about various colloquialisms. A little bit later, my brother-in-law, a mechanic who owns his own shop (and for whom cars come up in casual conversation all the time) started a fun game of assigning ideal car types to all of us sitting around the table. But when it came to assigning a car to our 20-year-old nephew, our nephew balked.
"Why is that my ideal car?" He didn't think it suited him.
But my brother-in-law tried to enlighten him: "No, it's sports-like, but country—er, you know, country-like. But sophisticated. ... What's the word?" He looked at me. "There's got to be a word that means both active and country with sophistication."
I ran through my mental list: "Jaunty?"
"No."
"Rustic?"
"Kind of."
"Sporty."
"No. You were closer with rustic, but that doesn't convey the sports part."
"But it's definitely not sporty?"
"No." I whipped out my cell phone and jumped online, heading straight to one of my favorite sites, OneLook.com. After an introduction to this site to everyone at the table (and a little discussion about whether or not reverse dictionaries are technically cheating at crossword puzzles), I ran through the list—and that's when I spotted a word that caught everyone's attention: today's WOW, agrestic.
Agrestic (uh - GRES - tik) - rural, rustic, unpolished or awkward. While it doesn't mean all of these definitions at once, but rather one (the first two words) or the other (the last two), its origins come from the Latin agrest, or fields. It entered English around 1620.
**NOTE: Be sure to click the little sound symbol next to the word if you follow the link above in an effort to hear the pronunciation.**
We never did quite find the exact right word that my brother-in-law was searching for. I settled in on jaunty and used it with relish for the rest of the night—much to my nephew's chagrin. Funny, I don't even remember the car ...
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Feb 28, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Mardy
Summary: Tired of the dark days of February? Don't be so mardy, mate! Let's fight the blues with a little education today about British slang ...
Last week, while lunching with my friend Bob, he said over our salads and sandwiches, "I have a WOW for your blog."
I leaned in with interest, of course—interest that piqued when he explained it was an international word, shared with him by his British love interest. It seems they had their first row (rhymes with WOW). And as part of this little spat (okay, maybe it wasn't so noisy, after all), she said to him exasperatedly, "Don't be so mardy!" He gleaned what he thought she meant from the rest of their conversation—particularly when she told him he was too sensitive. No surprise, this hurt his feelings.
Now I may be partial, but I find Bob's sensitivity refreshing. He's someone I can have deep conversations with. And I value his input and creativity. Our brains work very similarly.
We were both dying to know exactly what mardy means. So, I trundled on over to the Dictionary of Slang (or "slanguistics," as they call it) at the UK website Peevish. And under the Ms, this is what I discovered:
Mardy (pronounced just like we Americans say, "Mardi Gras") - (n.) someone who is easily upset, scared or moans incessantly; someone who whines a lot. (adj.) Behaving like a mardy person.
As for the etymology, it took a little more detective work on my end. But many English speakers across the pond have shared their own thoughts and findings in chat groups, helping me to determine that it likely comes from the Old Englishe word mar, meaning to spoil or waste. A child who throws a tantrum was said to be marred, or marred-y, in the days of yore. Some words stick around, even as the rest of the language they come from changes; it seems marred-y is one of those words, only partly evolving itself into a type of slang that's most commonly used as a North England colloquialism.
Well, Bob ... now you know. (Let's not listen!)
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Last week, while lunching with my friend Bob, he said over our salads and sandwiches, "I have a WOW for your blog."
I leaned in with interest, of course—interest that piqued when he explained it was an international word, shared with him by his British love interest. It seems they had their first row (rhymes with WOW). And as part of this little spat (okay, maybe it wasn't so noisy, after all), she said to him exasperatedly, "Don't be so mardy!" He gleaned what he thought she meant from the rest of their conversation—particularly when she told him he was too sensitive. No surprise, this hurt his feelings.
Now I may be partial, but I find Bob's sensitivity refreshing. He's someone I can have deep conversations with. And I value his input and creativity. Our brains work very similarly.
We were both dying to know exactly what mardy means. So, I trundled on over to the Dictionary of Slang (or "slanguistics," as they call it) at the UK website Peevish. And under the Ms, this is what I discovered:
Mardy (pronounced just like we Americans say, "Mardi Gras") - (n.) someone who is easily upset, scared or moans incessantly; someone who whines a lot. (adj.) Behaving like a mardy person.
As for the etymology, it took a little more detective work on my end. But many English speakers across the pond have shared their own thoughts and findings in chat groups, helping me to determine that it likely comes from the Old Englishe word mar, meaning to spoil or waste. A child who throws a tantrum was said to be marred, or marred-y, in the days of yore. Some words stick around, even as the rest of the language they come from changes; it seems marred-y is one of those words, only partly evolving itself into a type of slang that's most commonly used as a North England colloquialism.
Well, Bob ... now you know. (Let's not listen!)
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Feb 21, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Cloacal
Summary: It's a flower! It's a cesspool!? What is a cloaca—and just which of its adjective forms do you use and when?
Last week, during a fantastically relaxing reiki session from energy medicine practitioner Rose Mattax, I learned a new word: cloacal. The moment she said it, I was hooked. It sounded so floral and lovely, especially as it rolled off her tongue there in her office full of flower essences and colorful portraits of the Virgin Mary.
"How do you spell it?" I asked. Then: "What does it mean?" Finally, I said to Rose, "You know this is going to be my next WOW Word of the Week, right?" She merrily obliged with permission.
Not that Rose owns the word, mind you—nor even that her industry of energy medicine owns it. In fact, imagine my rather unpleasant surprise to learn in researching this blog post that the noun form, cloaca, actually means sewer or cesspool! Here's the poop:
Cloaca (KLOW - AY - ka) - (n.) cesspool, sewer OR the biological chamber that receives both intestinal and urogenital discharges in many living species. A Latin word derived from the Greek klyzein, meaning to rinse out, it was first used prior to 1600 in America. Its common adjective version is cloacinal.
On the other hand cloacal (KLOW - AY - kihl or KLOW - AH - kihl) is a word that's been coined in the medical community as the adjective of cloaca, and has taken on a new life in the realm of energy medicine, specifically. Read this blurb by Donna Eden from her book Energy Medicine: Balancing Your Body's Energies for Optimal Health, Joy and Vitality. It explains the type of "transportation system" approach of meridians like the cloacals in accordance with the beliefs of energy practitioners like Donna, Rose and others. To learn about the cloacals themselves, see Donna's post at her website titled "Grid vs. Cloacal Energies."
In my research about the cloaca, I gradually began to realize that this is a word that I heard bandied about in childhood during many trips to hospitals and doctors' offices where my younger sister was treated for, among other things, a cloacal deformity from birth. Maybe the flowering association I made had something subconscious to do with that: My sister just celebrated her 36th birthday with the help of her three healthy and brilliant children. Imagine my pride.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Last week, during a fantastically relaxing reiki session from energy medicine practitioner Rose Mattax, I learned a new word: cloacal. The moment she said it, I was hooked. It sounded so floral and lovely, especially as it rolled off her tongue there in her office full of flower essences and colorful portraits of the Virgin Mary.
"How do you spell it?" I asked. Then: "What does it mean?" Finally, I said to Rose, "You know this is going to be my next WOW Word of the Week, right?" She merrily obliged with permission.
Not that Rose owns the word, mind you—nor even that her industry of energy medicine owns it. In fact, imagine my rather unpleasant surprise to learn in researching this blog post that the noun form, cloaca, actually means sewer or cesspool! Here's the poop:
Cloaca (KLOW - AY - ka) - (n.) cesspool, sewer OR the biological chamber that receives both intestinal and urogenital discharges in many living species. A Latin word derived from the Greek klyzein, meaning to rinse out, it was first used prior to 1600 in America. Its common adjective version is cloacinal.
On the other hand cloacal (KLOW - AY - kihl or KLOW - AH - kihl) is a word that's been coined in the medical community as the adjective of cloaca, and has taken on a new life in the realm of energy medicine, specifically. Read this blurb by Donna Eden from her book Energy Medicine: Balancing Your Body's Energies for Optimal Health, Joy and Vitality. It explains the type of "transportation system" approach of meridians like the cloacals in accordance with the beliefs of energy practitioners like Donna, Rose and others. To learn about the cloacals themselves, see Donna's post at her website titled "Grid vs. Cloacal Energies."
In my research about the cloaca, I gradually began to realize that this is a word that I heard bandied about in childhood during many trips to hospitals and doctors' offices where my younger sister was treated for, among other things, a cloacal deformity from birth. Maybe the flowering association I made had something subconscious to do with that: My sister just celebrated her 36th birthday with the help of her three healthy and brilliant children. Imagine my pride.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2011
Jan 31, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Chthonic
Summary: Have you ever misused a word? I have. Do you know how deep do the roots of this week's WOW word go? Here's a test: Does chthonic mean "to the marrow" or does it refer to something even deeper (and darker) than that?
For almost 10 years, one of my favorite words has been chthonic. ... Only today, I learned I have been both mispronouncing and misusing it all this time! It seems these Words of the Week can be WOWing to me, too.
My interpretation of this word (taken from a book I once read about Jungian dream analysis) was something that was bone-deep, or to the core of oneself. However, when I set out to craft this blog post today—and share what I thought I knew with you—I discovered that the actual meaning of chthonic (and its partner chthonian) is really something of or relating to the underworld. Have I been equating the essence of myself with Hellishness all this time!? *gasp!* I shudder (and chuckle) to think what people have believed I thought of myself for the last decade ... that is, if they understood it at all.
But that's what happens when I 'teach' myself new words without looking them up and verifying them. Have you ever seen a word in print and gleaned its meaning from the text? Sometimes this is easy. Other times, it only seems easy, and really we wind up making ourselves look foolish!
Having a sense of humor about it is helpful. So, is being flexible. For instance, have you ever used a word in a sentence, only to have someone correct your pronunciation or usage? If so, how have you reacted? What was the most embarrassing moment you can recall? (And do you also remember the word?)
My guess is the experience taught you the proper usage/pronunciation/spelling/etc. more firmly than a lot of other word-learning experiences. Funny how negative experiences seem to do that, being burned into our brains indelibly. There's something rather chthonic about it, eh?
Chthonic (THO - nik) or chthonian (THO - nee - yan) - Of or relating to the underworld; infernal. Although both versions have their roots directly in the Greek word khthon, or earth, they only entered English about a century and a half ago: chthonian was first recorded in use in 1850, and chthonic, in 1882.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
For almost 10 years, one of my favorite words has been chthonic. ... Only today, I learned I have been both mispronouncing and misusing it all this time! It seems these Words of the Week can be WOWing to me, too.
My interpretation of this word (taken from a book I once read about Jungian dream analysis) was something that was bone-deep, or to the core of oneself. However, when I set out to craft this blog post today—and share what I thought I knew with you—I discovered that the actual meaning of chthonic (and its partner chthonian) is really something of or relating to the underworld. Have I been equating the essence of myself with Hellishness all this time!? *gasp!* I shudder (and chuckle) to think what people have believed I thought of myself for the last decade ... that is, if they understood it at all.
But that's what happens when I 'teach' myself new words without looking them up and verifying them. Have you ever seen a word in print and gleaned its meaning from the text? Sometimes this is easy. Other times, it only seems easy, and really we wind up making ourselves look foolish!
Having a sense of humor about it is helpful. So, is being flexible. For instance, have you ever used a word in a sentence, only to have someone correct your pronunciation or usage? If so, how have you reacted? What was the most embarrassing moment you can recall? (And do you also remember the word?)
My guess is the experience taught you the proper usage/pronunciation/spelling/etc. more firmly than a lot of other word-learning experiences. Funny how negative experiences seem to do that, being burned into our brains indelibly. There's something rather chthonic about it, eh?
Chthonic (THO - nik) or chthonian (THO - nee - yan) - Of or relating to the underworld; infernal. Although both versions have their roots directly in the Greek word khthon, or earth, they only entered English about a century and a half ago: chthonian was first recorded in use in 1850, and chthonic, in 1882.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Jan 17, 2011
WORD OF THE WEEK: Birth
Summary: Today's blog title is a bit of a misnomer. The fact is, there are many words featured in this week's WOW segment—and they all surround the word birth and its origins (fittingly).
Happy birthday to me! Today I turn 30-something (*ahem*). And as the rest of the world concentrates on what's really important—a vision of peace as personified in our collective memory by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.—I thought I'd get a little narcissistic. (And, yes, even my MLK link is self-absorbed: My sister is a teacher at the very impressive MLK Dream Montessori School.) So, my blog is about all things birth-related.
In addition to recognizing the late Dr. King's birthday, today I personally have recognized: my aunt's birthday; my great uncle's birthday (hey, people like to give birth on this date in my family); the birthdays of a couple of other friends (also today); and the upcoming or recently-past birthdays of several other friends, family members and even my in-laws. I know a lot of January birthdays! And *psssst!* today is also the First Lady's birthday, in case you hadn't heard. Happy birthday to all of us!
So, now that we've cut the cake and blown out the candles (hopefully, not in that order), let's get down to our WOW word study.
BIRTH (BERTH) - as a verb, it's the action of bringing someone or something to life—as in, "In her career, the midwife was responsible for helping to birth more than a hundred healthy babies." As a noun, it's the moment/place when that act occurs: "1776 marked the birth of a nation." More esoterically, it's the state resulting from being born at a particular time and place, or having to do with one's lineage, i.e., "He was a Southerner by birth," and "His was not a noble birth." Finally, as an adjective, it describes anything having to do with the forms of birth already mentioned, like "the clinic's best birthing room" and "the prevention of birth defects." Birthday is a compound word—but I've blogged about that before.
The word birth entered the English language in the mid-13th century, deriving from the Old Norse, byrth, which mutated through many forms from an ancient Indo-European word, bhrto, meaning to bear. Interestingly, birth replaced the Old English word gebyrd, which derived from German and had a broader definition, expanding to offspring, descent, race, nature and even fate. In the 1600s, another compound word, birthnight, existed to specify the night of someone's birth.
Here are a couple of synonyms—with histories that are just as interesting—for you to look up on your own (now that we've given birth to your curiosity, you may as well continue to grow): nativity, geniture, nascency, natality, genesis ... Are you seeing a pattern already?
I'd like to give you some final food for thought: Why do we recognize Dr. King's birthday instead of holding a day of memorial for his tragic passing? Perhaps it's because we want to focus on positivity, just like he did with his message of hope. Here's to the birth of a better tomorrow today ...
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Happy birthday to me! Today I turn 30-something (*ahem*). And as the rest of the world concentrates on what's really important—a vision of peace as personified in our collective memory by Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.—I thought I'd get a little narcissistic. (And, yes, even my MLK link is self-absorbed: My sister is a teacher at the very impressive MLK Dream Montessori School.) So, my blog is about all things birth-related.
In addition to recognizing the late Dr. King's birthday, today I personally have recognized: my aunt's birthday; my great uncle's birthday (hey, people like to give birth on this date in my family); the birthdays of a couple of other friends (also today); and the upcoming or recently-past birthdays of several other friends, family members and even my in-laws. I know a lot of January birthdays! And *psssst!* today is also the First Lady's birthday, in case you hadn't heard. Happy birthday to all of us!
So, now that we've cut the cake and blown out the candles (hopefully, not in that order), let's get down to our WOW word study.
BIRTH (BERTH) - as a verb, it's the action of bringing someone or something to life—as in, "In her career, the midwife was responsible for helping to birth more than a hundred healthy babies." As a noun, it's the moment/place when that act occurs: "1776 marked the birth of a nation." More esoterically, it's the state resulting from being born at a particular time and place, or having to do with one's lineage, i.e., "He was a Southerner by birth," and "His was not a noble birth." Finally, as an adjective, it describes anything having to do with the forms of birth already mentioned, like "the clinic's best birthing room" and "the prevention of birth defects." Birthday is a compound word—but I've blogged about that before.
The word birth entered the English language in the mid-13th century, deriving from the Old Norse, byrth, which mutated through many forms from an ancient Indo-European word, bhrto, meaning to bear. Interestingly, birth replaced the Old English word gebyrd, which derived from German and had a broader definition, expanding to offspring, descent, race, nature and even fate. In the 1600s, another compound word, birthnight, existed to specify the night of someone's birth.
Here are a couple of synonyms—with histories that are just as interesting—for you to look up on your own (now that we've given birth to your curiosity, you may as well continue to grow): nativity, geniture, nascency, natality, genesis ... Are you seeing a pattern already?
I'd like to give you some final food for thought: Why do we recognize Dr. King's birthday instead of holding a day of memorial for his tragic passing? Perhaps it's because we want to focus on positivity, just like he did with his message of hope. Here's to the birth of a better tomorrow today ...
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
Dec 20, 2010
WORD OF THE WEEK: Solstice
Summary: Does seasonal depression keep you in the dark? This year—and this week—there's literally light at the end of your figurative tunnel. See how the solstice can make you smile, even on the typically darkest day and longest night of the year.
This week will introduce us to the shortest day of the year: December 21, 2010. If you're paying attention, that's today. And if you're in the dumps, you can literally look on the bright side by coming out of your hibernation hovel tomorrow! Naturally, there will be more sunlight (a.k.a. more daylight time) following the "shortest day."
What makes the day so short? Why, the position of the sun: Each year, as the Earth rotates around the sun, there are two positions the planet hits that place the sun either furthest away (winter solstice) or closest to us (summer solstice). These are the shortest and longest days, respectively.
The word solstice refers both to the sun's position, as well as to the day when the position occurs. It has two pronunciations: SAHL - stiss (as demonstrated in this audio link to Merriam-Webster) or the way I say it with my own Midwestern accent, SOHL - stiss, just like this woman who sounds a lot like me does at Forvo.com. (By the way, if you ever wonder about any word's pronunciation—English or otherwise—you'll want to check out Forvo. The site's mission is to gather all the words in the world in one place, each in little, audio sound bites.) From the Latin word sol for sun, combined with the word parts -stit- and -stes for standing, it entered the English language around the mid-13th century.
Interestingly enough, this year's winter solstice has another special twist: a lunar eclipse! I happen to be writing this post late in the evening as the spectacle is beginning. And for the shortest day (and longest night) of the year, it is refreshingly bright outside. This solstitial occurrence is a somewhat rare way to ring in the season, and may be cause for celebration.
Read about some ancient ways to celebrate, as well as new ways, in the middle of this linked page at ReligiousTolerance.org.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
This week will introduce us to the shortest day of the year: December 21, 2010. If you're paying attention, that's today. And if you're in the dumps, you can literally look on the bright side by coming out of your hibernation hovel tomorrow! Naturally, there will be more sunlight (a.k.a. more daylight time) following the "shortest day."
What makes the day so short? Why, the position of the sun: Each year, as the Earth rotates around the sun, there are two positions the planet hits that place the sun either furthest away (winter solstice) or closest to us (summer solstice). These are the shortest and longest days, respectively.
The word solstice refers both to the sun's position, as well as to the day when the position occurs. It has two pronunciations: SAHL - stiss (as demonstrated in this audio link to Merriam-Webster) or the way I say it with my own Midwestern accent, SOHL - stiss, just like this woman who sounds a lot like me does at Forvo.com. (By the way, if you ever wonder about any word's pronunciation—English or otherwise—you'll want to check out Forvo. The site's mission is to gather all the words in the world in one place, each in little, audio sound bites.) From the Latin word sol for sun, combined with the word parts -stit- and -stes for standing, it entered the English language around the mid-13th century.
Interestingly enough, this year's winter solstice has another special twist: a lunar eclipse! I happen to be writing this post late in the evening as the spectacle is beginning. And for the shortest day (and longest night) of the year, it is refreshingly bright outside. This solstitial occurrence is a somewhat rare way to ring in the season, and may be cause for celebration.
Read about some ancient ways to celebrate, as well as new ways, in the middle of this linked page at ReligiousTolerance.org.
© KiKi Productions, Inc. 2010
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