insouciance

\in-SOO-see-unss\

noun

: lighthearted unconcern : nonchalance

Observe the very thin line between indifference, apathy, (the recent) stolidness and nonchalance, coolness, INSOUCIANCE. The key concept in this gap is "lightheartedness"—the vast canyon between not caring and not having a care in the world. There is something inherently romantic in the latter three traits, as though everything just rolls off one's back.

The word INSOUCIANCE creates some discrepancies, though. In the thesaurus, INSOUCIANCE is paired with aloofness, disregard, emotionlessness, lethargy. On the other hand, the adjective form INSOUCIANT turns up carefree, happy-go-lucky, lighthearted, and nonchalant. Interesting. I want to pretend this means something, but it probably does not.

INSOUCIANCE comes from the french verb soucier, to trouble or disturb. So: not bothered. Couldn't care less.

I suppose INSOUCIANCE or nonchalance then implies a carefree indifference, while apathy implies a jaded indifference.

I think I will now put this to bed.

ponzu

\PAHN-zoo\

noun

: a tangy sauce made with citrus juice, rice wine vinegar, and soy sauce and used especially on seafood

I got a little excited upon discovering this word was borrowed (assimilated) from Japanese (FINALLY, something not Latin). PONZU literally translates to "juice squeezed from sour oranges." But the etymology went on to reveal the Japanese word was originally influenced by the Dutch word pons, for "punch," as in: parties, crystal bowls, and secretly-distributed liquor.

According to recipetips.com, the sourest oranges are the Bergamot or the Seville, both grown predominantly in Italy. Not that this matters, though, because every PONZU recipe I find doesn't involve oranges, only limes and lemons. That's fair. Limes and lemons are surely more accessible than the Bergamot or the Seville and sourer than your average orange.

Three more things:

1) Bergamot and Seville sounds like either the name of a haberdashery or a law firm, and

2) While sourer and sourest are words, they don't sound right when said or read. In all fairness, neither do more sour and most sour. Why is this? Is it because things just aren't supposed to be that sour?, and

3) Can one spike the PONZU?

A PONZU recipe from the NYTimes:

Ponzu Sauce

Yield 2 1/2 cups

Time 15 minutes, plus 2 hours

Homemade ponzu will keep for several days with no loss in quality.

Ingredients

• 2/3 cup fresh lemon juice, more to taste
• 1/3 cup fresh lime juice, more to taste
• 1/4 cup rice vinegar
• 1 cup good-quality soy sauce
• 1/4 cup mirin (or 1/4 cup sake and 1 tablespoon sugar)
• 1 3-inch piece kelp (konbu)
• 1/2 cup (about 1/4 ounce) dried bonito flakes
• Pinch cayenne

Method

• In a bowl, combine all ingredients. Let sit for at least 2 hours or overnight. Strain. Just before using, you might add a small squeeze of fresh lemon or lime juice. Covered and refrigerated, ponzu will keep for at least several days.

liminal

\LIM-uh-nul\

adjective

1 : of or relating to a sensory threshold

2 : barely perceptible

3 : of, relating to, or being an intermediate state, phase, or condition : in-between, transitional

The concept of LIMINALITY in the field of anthropology first appeared in the work of Arnold Van Gennep in 1909. Regarding rites of passage, or coming-of-age rituals (i.e. marriage), Gennep notes a three part structure for the change: separation, LIMINAL period, reassimilation. One is stripped of social status, left wandering and naked, and then picked up by a new identity. Gennep is known as the founder of French folklore. Despite his scholarly work, he remained forever in the LIMINAL stages of French academia, exiled because of his criticism of Emile Durkheim.

Gennep's work was picked up later in the century by British cultural anthropologist, Victor "Witter" Turner (my quotes). Turner focuses specifically on the second step in Gennep's rites of passages, pausing at the LIMINAL stage when the subject of passage is "socially ambiguous." Turner's concise definition of LIMINALITY: the Nay to all positive structural assertions, but as in some sense the source of them all, and, more than that, as a realm of pure possibility whence novel configurations of ideas and relations may arise.

Turner describes those in a state of social LIMINALITY, aka "liminars," as "neither here nor there," and groups them with two other social place cards: marginality and inferiority. The liminars, however, distinguish themselves by expecting a resolution to their ambiguity. Prisoners in social purgatory, so to speak.

Social LIMINALITY sounds to me a little like adolescence—a wanting to drive the car but not pay the insurance sort of thing. While the teenage years may be the most obviously LIMINAL time in one's life, I suppose every big transition has a LIMINAL stage, however minor. I have to admit to kind of loving those ambiguous moments, when things are up in the air, as though in slow motion, rising, waiting, hoping to fall into place; in Turner's words: a realm of pure possibility.

For more on LIMINALITY, see here.

Also, I'm enjoying these images.

moil

\MOYL\

verb

1 : to work hard : drudge

2 : to be in continuous agitation : churn, swirl

To be more specific: MOIL comes from the French verb "moiller," to make wet or dampen. Essentially, dirty work.

I work in a bakery, so my hands are often gunked up with sugar, chocolate, whipped cream, jam, etc. Just generally sticky. I also wash them frequently with antibacterial soap, so the skin on my fingers is often dry, raw, torn and discolored. When I look down at the effects years of MOILING have had on my hands, I think of Scarlett O'Hara going to Rhett in jail to gracefully beg for money:

You can drop the moonlight and magnolia, Scarlett. So, things have been going well at Tara, have they?

Yes...

What have you been doing with your hands?

It's just that, I went riding last week without my gloves...

These don't belong to a lady—you've been working with them like a field hand.

The first time I saw Gone with the Wind I was in sixth grade and we were learning about the Civil War. I feel like most of this film went over the heads of the group of eleven and twelve-year-olds who stared blankly at the TV-on-wheels as it flashed images of Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable. My teacher cried, more than once. The rest of us sat slumped on top of our desks, quietly and methodically removed candy from our pockets, and stared at the sunlight creeping in the quarter inch cracks between opaque blinds.

When I revisited the film a few years ago, the jail scene is one of the only ones that stuck with me from the first viewing. I remember Rhett grabbing and examining Scarlett's hands and exposing her lies. I remember looking down at my own eleven-year-old hands—dirty from outdoor play, cuticles shredded from habitual chewing, chipped, inexpensive nail polish. I knew then I would never be a lady.

It's a small price to pay, though. I enjoy dirty work. Being sticky and messy keeps me young at heart. I should make a bumper sticker that reads, "I'd rather be MOILING."

predilection

\pred-uh-LEK-shun\

noun

: an established preference for something

What constitutes a preference as "established?" I'm assuming this connotation refers to commonly "known" or "understood." As in, it's well established I have a PREDILECTION to being called "Candace" over "Candy."

For some reason when I think of PREDILECTIONS, I don't think of things I like as much as things that are the opposite of things I hate—as though preferences only exist to alleviate the pain of enduring an alternative that is unbearably horrible. Some people prefer to sit facing forward on a train because otherwise they will become motion sick. Others prefer skim milk over whole because they fear getting fat. I prefer to walk home at night with a friend because I don't want to get harassed/mugged/raped, etc.

So, what would a preference away from something be? The thesaurus sites the antonyms for PREDILECTION as: antipathy, disinterest, dislike, hate. I suppose one wouldn't say she has a PREDILECTION away from something.

I guess colors are a nice exception. I have a PREDILECTION to orange over red, in most cases. There's no antipathy there. It's just a preference. That's nice.

Some other non-hateful PREDILECTIONS:

everything bagels over plain bagels

Beatles over Stones

Mac over PC

Ok, that last one involves some antipathy.

advise

\ud-VYZE\

verb

1 : to give advice to : counsel

2 : inform, notify

3 : consult, confer

When doing a search for the word ADVISE on youtube, I came across Rebecca, an ESL educator. The video I found was a five-minute instructional piece regarding the important difference between the words advice and ADVISE. Other than a minor foul-up in her dry erase presentation (in her defense, she fixed the mistake gracefully, although I ADVISE her to spellcheck before recording), the video was very effective.

RebeccaESL has a wide selection of educational videos on youtube. My favorite is one titled, "Business English - Complaining and Disagreeing Politely and Effectively." In this video, Rebecca instructs watchers to replace negative adjectives with positive adjectives in order to be more diplomatic. For example, saying "not clean" instead of "dirty," or saying "I don't think that idea is very smart," instead of, "I think your idea is totally stupid,"suggesting the latter phrase would create "bad vibes." She's right. I only wish American children would watch this video, too. Or adults.

Another video explains the polite ways of saying "yes" or "no." These are really lessons in etiquette. And I'm thinking about how much etiquette weighs in language. At Whole Foods, we're instructed to respond with phrases like "my pleasure" when customers (aka "guests") request something. I feel uncomfortable saying "my pleasure" because I think it sounds sexual. Instead, I say things like, "sure thing," "of course," or "absolutely"—all still fairly polite. I also fancy altering my response to match the way a customer asks. Some examples:

If someone says: "I was hoping I could get a brownie..."

I respond with: "Well, hope no more. The brownie is yours."

"I was just wondering if I could get one of those cookies."

"Well, the answer is yes."

"Russian tea cake."

"Russian tea cake, it is."

"Can I get a cupcake?"

"I suppose I can make that happen."

"I'm thinking about the chocolate crinkle."

"I'm thinking about getting it for you."

If I had said "my pleasure" every time my job and their lives would be really dull. Wit is more important than etiquette.

I wonder if Rebecca teaches wit.

dog days

\DAWG-DAYZ\

noun

1 : the period between early July and early September when the hot sultry weather of summer usually occurs in the northern hemisphere

2 : a period of stagnation or inactivity

While Merriam-Webster's Word-of-the-Day Archive only dates back one month, I am POSITIVE this was a word last year around this exact time (pre-blog, unfortunately); I remember thinking, Oh, DOG DAYS, how appropriate since it's August (another hint exposing the workings of the machine).

I have been a subscriber since 2006, and I cannot say I've seen many words come through here twice (even if they did I am sure I would likely fail to recognize the duplicity), but DOG DAYS I remember. I even remember thinking about the term as though I did write about it, about summertime radio commercials advertising the air-conditioned—

WAIT! I've discovered my foul. Canicular (January 8, 2010): of or relating to the DOG DAYS. I did write about radio commercials. Interestingly, on January 8th, Merriam-Webster actually did not send me a word; I dug canicular from the archives of interesting words I had saved in my email. And the word originally arrived August 9, 2009, ONE YEAR AND THREE DAYS AGO.

I'm not sure what this says about my memory. I was incorrect, but only partially. The word wasn't DOG DAYS, but that term was in the definition. And it did arrive about a year ago, although I wrote about it in January. So all those thoughts were already repeated. This is actually the third time I've thought about the term DOG DAYS. This is starting to make me think of Kosuth and his three chairs again—the idea, the actualization, and the interpretation. I am so far removed from the essence DOG DAYS, I may have entirely lost the meaning.

To step back a moment: the DOG in DOG DAYS refers to the "Dog Star" aka the "Sirius Star" (the Greek Seirious), which rises simultaneously with the sun in the northern hemisphere during the hottest days of summer. Canicular comes from the Latin canicula, meaning "small dog." Canicula is ALSO the Latin name for the dog star. DOG DAYS in Latin translates to dies caniculares.

Basically, all these translations are suggesting: it's hot. The kind of hot in which old people die and children faint from dehydration. You will be sweaty and gross and not want to eat or have sex. You will muster only enough energy to drag your sorry ass in front of the fan and sit. If you have central air, none of this applies.