Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Author: admin (Page 148 of 220)

Turn on the waterworks.

I’m a word nut.

There. I’ve admitted it. There is probably a group with ten steps for people like me, those of us who hate the idea of losing great words to non-usage, words like obstreperous and vexed.

It vexes me greatly when the boys grow obstreperous over their videogames at two in the morning, when I’m sleeping.

Sometimes even a word hound gets thrown for a loop. Then, there is that occasion when word-ists get incensed at the misusage of common terms, and it turns out to be regularly found – simply confined to another part of the country.

Back before the internet (back before me, as a matter of fact), a fellow from North Carolina named William Edgerton wrote a paper on the usage of the words spigot and spicket. In his very simplistic unscientific survey, he asked his college-aged students to report what words were used in their childhood home to describe that device that released water from the pipes into the kitchen sink.

The results?

His students were nearly unanimous in submitting the term – spicket.

I did not grow up in North Carolina, although my distant ancestors lived in the very area in which Mr. Edgerton conducted his study. Many terms in the vocabulary I learned at home had been handed down over the generations, words like “fix” to describe the assembling of a sandwich, as in: Will you fix me a sandwich?

In fact, I was called out on that one in Rhode Island, when the fellow at the deli counter replied, “No, I can’t fix something that isn’t broken.” It took me a second or two to understand what he was talking about. I had used the word in that context my entire life and assumed it to be universal rather than regional. I discovered much later that the usage in that context was a crude translation from Gaelic, in which no single word could adequately express the same intention. Because of the distinct settlement patterns of the early Scots-Irish, the term became a regionalism.

Spicket?

I’ve never heard it said that way, despite Mr. Edgerton’s survey results. It was spigot, with a G, when it was ever heard, although I grew up with the term “faucet.” Turn on the faucet and brush your teeth. Turn on the tap?

Never.

Apparently a lot of others across the US had something different in their houses, because I’ve never seen a spicket once, that I know of. But enough of that. I need to fix a sandwich.

Is that for here or to go?

In a way, it was for the best. The lady at the counter had no idea she was to be the first customer for the Bistro. I didn’t tell her, either. I had no firm idea how the first transaction was going to go.

I had set the sign out on the sidewalk earlier with some trepidation, flying solo, wanting to serve some lunches but – obviously – not wanting to be overwhelmed. It was for that reason I decided to limit the lunch hour to just about that long: 11:30am to 1pm. I figured that would let me get an idea of how the system should work out.

Right off the bat, she had a question about ingredients: did the tortilla wrapper have sesame flour? Food allergies. I checked the package: no sesame flour. The Ham and Cheese Culchie was on (it’s my Irish-style wrap with sautéed bell peppers and onions).

You have to understand, I haven’t had any dry runs on delivery time. I’ve prepped the menu items, of course, to insure the taste and appearance, but as far as putting it on a plate for a customer – had not done it. Not even for family or friends.

She wanted it to go.

Fortunately, I had anticipated that possibility and had set out a couple of to-go boxes, just to be prepared. Had pre-portioned the ingredients. Opened the box of deli-wax paper to have it at the ready – in case it was needed.

I am guessing from opening the refrigerator to closing the snap-tabs on the foam box maybe three minutes passed. Maybe a lot less. It was in the bag complete with napkins, and rung up on the register inside four minutes. Again, maybe less. Granted, it was a straightforward order with no distractions – there weren’t any other customers in the store at the moment – but I’m happy with the way it came together. I’ve waited longer at a fast food counter.

It was smooth enough that I’m certain my first customer did not even realize she was the ice-breaker. That’s a good thing.

The only downside is, since it was ordered for carry out, I couldn’t ask her how she liked it. Not that it is some sort of fancy, delicate, rare culinary delight or anything: I just would have liked to have the feedback.

Tomorrow is another day. Part of the nervous anticipation should be gone by then.

Meanwhile, the lettering is scheduled to be added to the awning this week, another step in getting the store to that fully-realized and ready for anything stage!

Getting your money’s worth.

There are some who will take me to task about the Roger Clemens court case, and my contention that the government wasted millions of dollars (according to an article in the Seattle Times) trying to convict the former star pitcher of lying to them about alleged steroid use. A jury found him not guilty, which is not necessarily the same as innocent, but might as well be as far as prosecutors are concerned.

Where is the victim of the crime?

Originally, the inquiry was based on allegations against Clemons and other major league players who were said to have used performance-enhancing drugs. Some of those, like the supplement slugger Mark Maguire admitted to have taken, were readily available at health food stores. Not illegal.

Athletes do a lot of performance-enhancing activities, but the difference between ethical and otherwise appears to occur when the player obtains an advantage through ingesting some chemical or additive. Again – who is the victim? The sport of baseball? The fans? Other players?

Did steroid-using players really have an advantage when other athletes had the same access and may well have participated, but never fell under the spotlight?

Is it up to Congress to referee the nation’s sports activities? Why are our tax dollars being spent on hearings in the first place?

There is no question that Roger Clemens was a force to be reckoned with in the sport of baseball. Whether he finds a spot in the hall of fame depends on whether voters will weigh his player statistics against the drug doubts, which will linger despite the jury’s decision.

Much like the case that prosecutors brought against one-time presidential candidate John Edwards, the trial ended with a failed prosecution after years of investigating and enough money to fund teacher salaries across numerous school districts. Clemens angered members of Congress who believed he lied to them. Edwards lied about a mistress and was charged with diverting campaign money to cover up the affair.

In both cases, the victims of the purported offenses aren’t clearly defined. Society, maybe?

At some point, common sense should have come into play. Regardless of the verdict, there is a possibility that the cases against the two men simply weren’t proven to the satisfaction of the jury.

All that money spent to teach a lesson, one that didn’t even stick.

You can read more about the steroid-baseball connection in Kirk Radmonski’s book, Bases Loaded.

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