It’s been five years I’ve lived in Minneapolis, and about time I froze my ass off (or some other body part).
When I typed this last Wednesday night, it was 9 below zero outside. 9 below zero? Big deal, you say, if you are one of the one 12apostrophes reader/contributers who lives in Finland, or are someone’s grandparent, and have reached the age of scoffing hyperbole (“9 below? We used to walk to school when it was 9 below, on our hands. With paper bags for mittens. And we were grateful.”).
When something’s on sale at the grocery store, it’s old. Expired. The opposite of fresh. That’s why it’s on sale. Check it out next time. Ribeye for 3.99 a pound? That’s last week’s ribeye. Look at it closely. A little grey, isn’t it? Best if sold by yesterday? Let me tell you, you gotta pay attention to this stuff.
Before Christmas break, Pulao and I bought some sale rice. The first time we had it, Pulao said it tasted bad. “It’s a little bitter,” she said. Ha! I scoffed. It tasted fine to me. We ate it again. . . .
A few days ago, a friend of mine sent out an email with this year’s List of Banished Words, as deemed thus by the language lovers over at the Lake Superior State University. The premise, for those of you who haven’t come across it before, is simple: you know the word that gets used any which way and people throw them around like a gold coin in Scrooge McDuck’s vault and you go from noting that hey that’s not what that word actually means to wow that word sure does get thrown around to irritation at the . . .