in which i am grumpy
The title of this post uses awful grammar – I know. Up with? But “with whom do I take this up?” fails to reflect my foot-stomping frustration, because it sounds like I’m standing in a well-mannered query line at some British store. (Note, I work with Brits, very lovely people, all of whom use excellent grammar. But then again, I do work for the publisher responsible for THE dictionary.)
Anyway. Who do I take this up with! It’s mid-May, in the northern hemisphere. What did I wear to work this morning? Thick stockings, warm boots, a long skirt, a blouse underneath a long-sleeved sweater, and my leather coat. IT IS MID-MAY and I’m done with this dreary late-winter weather. I know I’m saying that with my Texas accent, and I know that this is somewhere in the vicinity of the average temperature (on the low side, obviously), and I know that my own idea of what the average temperature should be is calibrated from 40+ years in a hot climate, but good grief. I spent last weekend so cold, I sat on the couch covered in blankets trying to stay warm. The super had turned off the heat to the building, [incorrectly] believing it was no longer needed. Because, you know, it’s MID-MAY.
My son says nothing is more boring than talking about the weather, so apologies for being boring. Instead, I’ll be kind of complainey about something else. There’s a food writer I love, who used to be responsible for one of the best food magazines around, and I enjoyed reading her autobiography. She’s a very nice writer. But boy are her tweets purple! Here’s this morning’s breakfast report:
Misty dreamy day, soft green, tender gray. Breakfast in bed. Tea, challah, sweet butter, strawberry jam. Sliced orange drizzled with Port.
Really? Tender gray? Really? That tweet isn’t as egregious as some that leave me rolling my eyes. Purple prose, look it up – it’s just bad writing.
And I’m one to talk – see the title of this post.
grump grump grump.
blogrumps
another of my brilliant neologisms. or not.
I made up that word, “blogrumps,” and it’s not about the expansion of bloggers’ rumps (though that may be true, too), it’s a melding of blog and grumps. Most sincere apologies if I offend anyone, but I have a couple of complaints:
And thus concludes the end of my blogrump. My blog grump. Maybe I’m just grumpy because I accidentally put too much cinnamon in my oatmeal this morning. And the city hasn’t picked up the trash since Christmas Eve, and there’s just a tiny narrow path down my street between the giant piles of trash spilling out from both sides of the street.
Here – this’ll change the mood. I love these little boys.