The Joy of Scrabble

I had the privilege of having a number of cracker jack Scrabble players in residence over the Christmas holidays. As a result, I learned a new rule and once again became fixated on one of the best games for linguaphiles, ever.

The new rule, introduced by Second Champion of the Universe (my universe, that is), Emily Blue, is thus:

"A proper play uses any number of the player's tiles to form a single continuous word ("main word") on the board, reading either left-to-right or top-to-bottom. The main word must either use the letters of one or more previously played words, or else have at least one of its tiles horizontally or vertically adjacent to an already played word. If words other than the main word are newly formed by the play, they are scored as well, and are subject to the same criteria for acceptability."

I had been leaving that option on the table for years. And in true Emily-Vs.-Her-Mother style, we argued, sorta graciously, for fifteen minutes until one of us (me) insisted on actually consulting the rules in the box. And, dammit... she was right!

I hate being wrong.

Just ask any family member... proving you're right in an argument with me isn't always worth the trouble. I also hate that about me. The good news is, that pretty much sums up what I hate. Except for cooked turnips and being cold.

But being wrong and learning something about the world's best word game is okay. I sucked it up and carried on. And cleaned up the board, I might add. But Emily still rocks. She just rocks a teeny bit less than me, in Scrabble.

For those of you who are interested, I don't play by the Scrabble dictionary. Not that I have anything against real words that real people never use. It's just that it feels way less fun to get your knickers in a twist about using those final vowels in the end game. If I can't find a word I would write here tomorrow, I will concede "done" and let the counting begin.

And maybe, it would be a better world if we just did away with the counting altogether. Could we play merely for the fun of building puzzles of words together, in front of the fireplace with a nice Syrah in hand?

BTW: two tiles were left un-played in the making of this non-scored game. First two in the comments section to correctly identify said tiles wins....

Nothing. But the satisfaction of being first. (And having really good eyes, still.) I put a ridiculous amount of energy into the everyday quest of being first, and/or right. So here's your chance...

On The Gift of Music

I got a new guitar today.

It was fifth in a list of contenders, but from the moment the first chord was struck, there were no more contenders. How can a few small pieces of wood and glue, steel and nylon, be responsible for such a magical and memorable connection?

I'm gonna learn to work with this crafted thing of wonder. I suspect that in the long dance of harmony and rhythm, it will lead and I will follow. And I am okay with that.

A Word on Dictionaries

1 : a reference source in print or electronic form containing words usually alphabetically arranged along with information about their forms, pronunciations, functions, etymologies, meanings, and syntactical and idiomatic uses.

You'd think a dictionary would be a bit more precise, wouldn't you? For instance, who chooses the words, and how are they selected? And thus, I introduce the purpose of today's posting.

I'm hoping this will assist any of my 11 readers (bless you!) who may have found yourself in the heat of a dinner table "discussion" on spelling, usage, or even the right of a collection of letters to exist as a word at all that has escalated to the point where Condoleezza Rice is on her way in Air Force One Person At A Time, And Speak Nicely! These conversations always seem to end up in someone (usually the dude who owns the book) raising hairy eyebrows and declaring archly, "Well! We'll just look that up in THE DICTIONARY!

News flash: Even the venerated Oxford English Dictionary is just an opinionated snapshot of the state of the language at the time it was published. In fact, because writing a new hard-copy dictionary is such a huge and time-consuming undertaking, by the time a new one hits the shelves, it's already out of date. Dictionaries are time-constrained "consensus" documents: they count and report the most commonly used spelling and usage conventions. If the lexicographers can locate roughly 15 citations of any word in published material, that word becomes eligible for inclusion in the dictionary. And words that initially show up with the disdainful "slang" tag in brackets eventually lose the linguistic smudge on the nose and become respectable.

Not that it's going to put the "fun" back in to any seriously dys-fun-ctional families or rescue the weaker linguistic arm wrestlers among us from serious noodle-lashings over the dinner table, but take it from me for what it's worth: if you are actually "right" in the argument over whether or not "irregardless" is a word (as DUMB a word as it might be, right up there with "inflammable"), temper your enthusiasm and put down the noodles. You are only correct, if at all, for as long as it takes the English-speaking culture around you to decide otherwise.

"Crunk," anyone, for dessert?

In Praise of the English Language: Part One

One of my favorite authors of all time is Bill Bryson. I first met Bill through his wonderful book "The Mother Tongue: English, and How It Got That Way." It is an enlightening and often hilarious romp through the journey of English, but most of all, it's a love song for language. It's long overdue, but thought I'd hum a few bars myself over the next couple of posts. And while I'll never write as cleverly (and with the same zeal for research either: I'm terribly lazy) as Bill, this blog is free and you have to pay $11.20 to buy Bill new.

English is robust, incredibly intricate, unpredictable yet insufferably demanding, and totally rebellious. Can you name even ONE spelling rule that doesn't have at least one exception, if not three or more? It produces hot-blooded grammar mavens who will, at the merest hint of confusion over a "who" versus "whom" construction, whip her copy of Strunk and White's "Elements of Style" under your nose so fast you could skip shaving the next day.

However, there is a softer, fluid, egalitarian side to this language that endears it to me even more than its usage and spelling eccentricities appeal to my own inner grammar maven. (And yes, she's there lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce and spank the moment I accidentally write "two" instead of "too" in an email.) It is the enthusiastically responsive, dynamic nature of the language that I cherish. The shape and flavor of it flows like a tide, filling in empty tidal pools in unpredictable washes, while the next wave sees it stripping clean an entire shoreline of untidy linguistic flotsam and cigarette butts, leaving a pristine slate of "write your message here" shimmering sand.

If it were a country, it would take every UN honor for harboring all who sought a toe-hold on her shores: technology adoptees, commercial branding opportunists, whisper-thin refugees from have-not languages, neologisms, culturally-specific usages, air traffic control phrases, hilarious deep-Texas country music lyrics.... Come on in, all y'all.

I love how it refuses to be "owned" by any one nation. It makes itself comfortably native the moment it hits a new continent. (And if you want living proof that every tribe on the planet handles it uniquely in every aspect from spelling to pronunciation to usage to how they exclaim derision or emphasize a point, just come and hang out in any break room in a high tech company in Silicon Valley.)

Stay tuned: I'm gonna rant about dictionaries and spelling irritations soon. I just wanted to plant my emotional flag on this particular hill before I got too snarky about the details. And I can't find my copy of "The Mother Tongue," so if I loaned it to you, will you please give it back?

Fancier Science Deficient: Neither Ancient Societal Species Has Sufficient Policies

English is a ridiculous language.

Upon even the most cursory inspection, the grammar, spelling, and usage rules appear only to exist so that the exceptions have something to lean against.

The "science" of the language, as intricate and exhaustive as it represents itself to be in tomes such a Fowler's Modern English Usage or the venerable Oxford English Dictionary, is in reality relegated to the status of the movies at The Oscars: mere gray backdrop for the real action of who shows up wearing whom, on whose arm, attending which stunning post smile-when-you-don't-mean-it party.

Yes, rules are rules, except when they aren't, as in most of English spelling.

Thus the reality of an unfortunate native-tongue speaker of a straight-up, WYSIWYG language such as German or Latin, where the rules are reliable and sturdy on their little brown legs, and leaning is discouraged as slothful. Learning English sucks. And there's a statement you can take to the bank.

Take the title of this post. Aside from the word "has" (and were I less lazy, I'm sure I could have come up with a substitute that would have further proved my point), every word is both perfectly spelled, and yet breaks The Rule "I before E, except after C."

And that's just the Coles/Cliff notes version of the rule. The full version is, "I before E, except after C, or when sounding as "A" as in "neighbour" or "weigh." And even within that expanded rule, one encounters the Canadian versus American spelling contoversy of "'u,' versus 'no u.'" And even at THAT, one encounters the "What is the correct way to indicate a quotation within a quotation?" question.

Shit.

It's enough to make both a linguiphile and an ESL struggler take up drinking cheap liquor. No wonder you can never find a seat at a bar these days.


All I can say is, English is weird. And WONDERFUL!

The Problem With Fun

The problem with having fun is that moment you become conscious you're having some, your focus shifts, the situation has changed and the delight you initially experienced threatens to slip away. So you work hard at forgetting you noticed you were having fun, and soon all that's left is the realization that you still haven't done the dishes.

And this is just one more reason why it would be good to be a sea otter. All play and/or pro-creative activity, delicious mussel snacks, single point of focus... and no dishes.

Well, That Was A No-Brainer

The following are a few things you'll want to know about having an inter-cannicular acoustic neuroma removed via the middle-fossa approach by Dr. Jackler at the Stanford University Medical Center.

1. First, to grow one in the first place means you're very, very special. We know this because of Denmark. The Danes, with their hyper-socialized, federal, conservative "we'll just wait and see how this develops on its own" medical system, keep some the world's most accurate data on almost everything medical. Of course, the findings are unique to a people who are really tall, blond, and have an unaccountable fondness for the cold, dark and herring, so the data could be skewed. Take your chances: according to the Danes, there are only 10-13 cases per million in the general population. So if you get one, forget the lottery. You already had your "I feel special" moment.
2. Second, if you are blessed enough to have Dr. Jackler (or for our Canadian friends, Dr. Agrawal, Jackler's resident but soon to be one of nine surgeons in Canada who do this kinda gig, operating (HA!) out of London, Ontario) do the surgery, you're, well, blessed. He wrote the textbook (literally) to which all the other experts refer. He is a warm, personable, and accessible surgical genius. In case you've ever looked, you'll know these folk are very, very difficult to find in this life. Again, you're special. NO LOTTERY FOR YOU!!
3. You don't have to have your entire head shaved. Just a small Flash Gordon reverse-seven on the one side does it. We tried to advocate for some funky crop circle approach, but, well, they're sticky about the art. Whatever....
   
4. The volunteer ladies in the pink smocks in the family waiting room are amazing: they find out quickly who you are, who you're waiting on in surgery, who the doctor is, and how you like your coffee. If you have to leave the area for a even moment or two, they know your cell number and how to reach you in case the surgeon wants to talk to you. They are the twilight-zone angels and they provide a great service to people who really, really need it. I want to be one when I grow old.
5. If you go into shock in ICU an hour out of your surgery, the nurses there put Johnny-on-the-spot to shame. In the spirit of full disclosure reporting, when the blood pressure hit 62 over 99, I just closed my eyes, backed into the closest wall and prayed. However, the nursing staff futzed with the blood pressure monitor/machine, mucked with another machine this field reporter wasn't able to identify, and someone else rubbed his arm, saying "Come on... come ON... COME ON BACK HERE.... Five minutes later and all was calm. I doubt anyone else will remember it, but this was the WORST moment for me. Thank you, God, for the nurses in Stanford's surgical ICU.
   
6. Retaining hearing in the affected side of your head is a blessing. We still aren't totally certain how that will work out, since swelling is a big cloaking issue, and the swelling hasn't subsided yet. However, as of today, Patient X is reporting that he is hearing "something" on his left side. Phew....
7. Cutting the vestibular nerves on any side of one's head is bound to affect one's balance. (DOH!) The best path to rebuilding said nerves is walking. Daily. Or twice daily. Ergo, God is good: I always wanted a puppy, and now I have one.
   

So, if you are planning a middle-fossa approach to removing an inter-cannicular neuroma, Stanford University Medical Center with Dr. Jackler is a no-brainer.