Long live the queens

I've always been a bit of a word nerd. One of my favorite movies of all-time is Spellbound, a heart-touching documentary of a cross-section of awkward tweeners preparing for the National Spelling Bee. You'll laugh, you'll cry, and if you're a word nerd like me, you'll totally--sometimes painfully--relate to these kids.

As far as word nerds go, I hold my ground steadily in the middle of the pack. I'm a decent speller, however my VBFF growing up, TIG, was the queen of spelling. And that is one of the highest honors a second-grade word nerd could hold. In fact, when I moved to my new school our introductions to each other included her spelling a-c-k-n-o-w-l-e-d-g-e-m-e-n-t. Wow. And when we really solidified our friendship I was all giddy at the prospect of having the girl who could spell antidisestablishmentarianism at my birthday party. Could it get any better than that? You don't have to tell me twice, we were so cool (as an aside, Blogger's spellcheck response to antidisestablishmentariansim? No suggestions. Note to self: Do not entrust Blogger with life's most important spellchecking needs. My vote is for TIG).

My vocabulary is also of decent size; it's like the baby bear of nerdiness: not too big to be off-putting, not too small to be pedestrian, but just right. Middle of the pack. However, my friend, Monster? She's the penultimate vocabularist (and if her title is worth anything, she'll point out that vocabularist is not a word. Yes, she's also a master grammarian). I'll admit it, I have vocabulary envy. Which is most certainly one of the word nerd's deadliest sins. Probably the most deadly word nerd sin is sloth: not putting your words to use. I'm in the process of thinking about applying for graduate school sometime in the future, again. And one of the first steps in the process of thinking about possibly going back to grad school someday is preparing for standardized tests, and one of the components of said tests is vocabulary. Yay! I purchased some flashcards and every night I quiz myself. I'm tackling 25 words a day--and these are big words. Words that the upper echelon of word nerds know and use frequently, but words that baby bear doesn't yet feel comfortable pulling out of her pocket and throwing down over a bowl of porridge, you know? But not wanting sloth to get the best of me, I know I have to start incorporating some of these words in my daily conversations. And here's the sign of my true word nerdiness, even if I wasn't thinking about the prospect of possibly going back to grad school someday, I'd still find great delight in this little exercise of studying flashcards. I know, I know, you don't have to say it again, I AM SO COOL!

Last night, the Commish, Monster and I got to talking about vocabulary and using big words and the process you go through as a kid when you're testing out the proper use of words. I told them about how one time TIG and I were driving around with her family after a tornado had hit Denver and I felt called to use a new word I had read in a Nancy Drew book. "Ooooh, look at all the DERBIS!" I interjected. I mean, there were downed trees and branches and leaves everywhere. DERBIS abounds. Oh, I was supremely proud of myself for just having used an impressively big word and I know that I emphasized the heck out of it. DERBIS, DERBIS, DERBIS. Through stifled chuckles, her parents asked me to repeat what I said. Slightly less confident, I responded, "uh, derbis?" They very gently corrected me. Oh. Yes. Of course. Silly me, DEBRIS. That's what I said. DEBRIS. Lesson learned. And to this day I still get a good laugh out of it.

And speaking of laughter, my recount of this experience inspired Monster to share a similar story (and with her permission, I think, er, I hope, I'm repeating it here). First you need to have a picture of Monster. As I've already mentioned, she's the vocabulary queen, and it's not like she stumbled upon that greatness one day, she was a vocabulary queen (or maybe princess) as a kid, too. So, picture the cutest, smartest, most innocent little elementary school kid. Got that image in your head? Good. Okay, so now picture that cute little brainiac as a third-grader having the honor bestowed upon her to read the school announcements over the PA system for a week. She reports to the office for her first day of announcement reading and the Assistant Principal a huffy old spinster shoves the announcement sheet in her hands, and asks her if she knows all the words on the page. It's Monster, OF COURSE SHE KNOWS ALL THE WORDS ON THE PAGE, duh? At this point nearly 30 years after the fact, I'm even incredulous. I mean, really, who would dare question word nerd royalty? Monster, confident in her abilities says yes, and the announcements begin. At this school, each day announcements begin with a quote--an aphorism, adage, or platitude, if you will. Monster clears her throat, presses the button on the system mic and begins, "LAWTER is the best medicine." Before she knows it the mic is stripped from her little hands, "LAUGHTER, that's LAUGHTER is the best medicine." What the what? "Laffter"? But hello DAUGHTER (DAWTER)? So therefore LAUGHTER (LAWTER), right? It makes sense, and I'm certainly not one to question the queen. That would be... what would it be? I think there's probably a really big and appropriate word in my box of flashcards for what it would be, but we'll just make do with: stupid. That would be stupid. Lesson learned. And to this day she--and now I and the whole of the Internets--still gets a good laugh out of it.