I am a logophile, or a lover of words. In fact, I collect words. Words are magical. A single word can convey a sense of wonder, a nuance, a touch. You can mess up a relationship with the wrong word. I say mess up, not destroy, because you can repair the damage with the right word. Sometimes that takes a string of words.
Words are funny. Like reconnoiter. How can I reconnoiter if I’ve never connoitered?
I heard someone mention animated shorts. And I couldn’t help but picture someone whose shorts are animated. What would that be like? It would be really inconvenient, to have your shorts moving around as you walk, jumping up and down, or calling out to each other. I wouldn’t like to wear animated shorts. Have you thought about what it would be like to wear drama shorts? Suspense shorts? Mystery shorts? I don’t know about you, but I would much rather wear Bermuda shorts, or cut-off shorts or even short shorts than mysterious shorts.
I like words that surprise me with an unexpected meaning, or words that are simply lyrical, like wisteria, bougainvillea, or mellifluous. Mellifluous is a perfect word to describe a mellifluous sound. I mean the word mellifluous is mellifluous by itself.
The other day I had an optical delusion. I was in denial.
Sometimes a misunderstood word turns out to be hilarious. At the end of the Tehran hostage crisis, which wasn’t funny at all, American hostages were rescued by Canada and returned home. The newscaster reported that they were all wearing Maple Leaf pins, in honor of Canada. \Very meaningful. But my husband turned to me and asked, “Did he say make-believe-pins?” For hostages that had been held for 444 days, it seemed like a real concern.
My favorite word today is lagniappe. I’m curious who has ever heard the word before. Once you’ve heard, or seen it, it is especially fun when you hear it in a show, or read it in a book, and you can say, “There’s that word! I know that word!”
“We picked up one excellent word—a word worth traveling to New Orleans to get; a nice limber, expressive, handy word—Lagniappe. They pronounce it Lanny-yap . . . When a child or a servant buys something in a shop—or even a mayor or governor, for aught I know—he finished the operation by saying, ‘Give me something for lagniappe.’ The shopman always responds; gives the child’s a bit of liquorice-root;” Mark Twain, Life on the Mississippi
A lagniappe is a small gift given to a customer by a merchant at the time of a purchase, such as a 13th doughnut on purchase of a dozen, or more broadly, “something given or obtained gratuitously or by way of good measure. It can be used more generally as meaning any extra or unexpected benefit.
Why do I like it? Because it’s unique.