Why does lingo have to change? It’s confusing to my little brain. It puts me in awkward predicaments. I risk embarrassing my teen-ager, not to mention myself. Actually, my sweet son does not get embarrassed. I provide him with much laughter. I think I make him feel grown up because I give him reasons many times to correct me.
This is not a good problem to have when you decide to write and put it out there for the whole world to see. I’ll give you an example so you can laugh at me too J . . .I was writing a story and used the word incestuous when what I meant to use was the word incessant. There is just a tad bit of difference in the meanings of these two words. . .oops!
Would you like another example of one of my blunders? I thought you might. One time I wrote about being prostrate on the ground in prayer but I wrote the word prostate instead.
This one cracked up my teen-age niece. . .When I was growing up, what we now call flip-flops, was called something else. A few years ago, my sister, niece and I were in the car together and it was hot. I said I couldn’t wait to get home and put on my thongs. My niece gasped in the back seat saying, “Aunt Kristy, you wear those!?” I replied, “What’s the problem, everyone wears them, you wear them.” My sister says through her laughter, “We now call those flip flops” and turned to explain to her daughter that when we were young, people called those thongs. An innocent mistake.
I made another innocent mistake at my mothers one day, way back when I was much younger and just newly married. Keith and I were both experiencing achy muscles, so we bought an electric massager, the kind that massages deep into the muscles taking the soreness away. One day, while in my mother’s kitchen, I was trying to tell her about this new contraption of ours thinking she might like one as she was always complaining of a bad, sore back. I was explaining how wonderful this vibrator was and it felt so good and she should really try it. I got that surprised, almost horrified look from my mother, kind of like the one I got from my niece, and then my mother says through her hysterical laughter, “Kristy, call it a massager, not a vibrator.” Not until she said it, did I realize how the conversation was sounding. . .oops!
Our conversations are to be seasoned with salt. I think my conversations are ok but my vocabulary needs some work, or maybe I need an English lesson, or maybe I just need a fiesta. . .or should that be siesta? What am I thinking, trying to now go into another language? I better just stick with my own and learn it better.
But again, it can be so confusing. When I was young for instance, if you were happy, you were gay. Today you better be blissful, elated, or even tickled pink. The last thing I want to do is upset someone, and so I can become anxious as I write, praying that I don’t offend anyone.
I’m wondering if this problem is a middle age problem. I am nearing the middle of the road number on the ol’ birthday cake. Or maybe I just need to go back to school. What class would I sign up for?
Foot in Mouth 101
Learning How to Talk for the 40 Somethings
How Not to Be a Blooper and Blunderer
That middle one would not work because I was doing this in my twenties and thirties too.
Oh well! If I give people laughter, even at my expense, so be it. Laughter is good for the bones, and for the soul. So if I write or say something funny, strange, or just plain wrong, feel free to correct me. We could always use a good laugh.
In the mean time, I’ll be working on my vocab.
P.S. I've been asked to talk on the radio this week about the blanket ministry, HA! With my little vocab problem, this could be really interesting! Please pray for me!
Linking with. . .
In the mean time, I’ll be working on my vocab.
P.S. I've been asked to talk on the radio this week about the blanket ministry, HA! With my little vocab problem, this could be really interesting! Please pray for me!
Linking with. . .
