Notes from a messy desk…
Life can be confusing sometimes, and so can language. Have you ever been caught off guard by an oddball or nonsensical saying while engaging in otherwise “normal” conversation?
My mother and various other relatives were masters at quirky comments when I was younger. Now I find myself quoting them to millennials and generation Z types, prompting puzzled looks. To the credit of those who originated such unusual turns of phrase, they do make you think. In the interest of keeping our language lively, please bear with me as I share a few gems.
One of the most nonsensical involves talk of “plenty”. Let’s say Mom cooked way too much spaghetti, enough for everyone to have second or even third helpings. She might remark “Plenty! Four and twenty. Go and bite the little boy next door.” What? That’s just ridiculous! Not to mention mean. Assuming a boy even lives next door. It makes no more sense now than it did then.
Only slightly less crazymaking was the method used to assess the chance of rain: gaze intently at the sky, and if you see “enough blue to make a shirt”, it won’t rain. Huh? A shirt for whom? How much blue does it take anyway? What a dumb saying! Or so I thought, until a poet friend heard it and incorporated it into her writing. So I’ve changed my thinking to “What a poetic expression!”
Some sayings I heard while growing up referred to unexpected visitors. I suspect they sprang from the work of pioneer women on isolated farms, and the excitement created when somebody came to call. If you dropped your dishrag, it meant company was coming. You didn’t know when, but it was good to be prepared. If you happened to glance at a clock reading 9:50, you got to crow “Ten to ten, visitors before eleven!” and provide something to look forward to. Or possibly be disappointed by.
When my young self felt bored and made the mistake of saying so, the standard solution was for Mom to find me some work. Should none be handy, she might instruct me to “sit on the floor and hang your feet down.” Thanks a heap, Mom!
If as a kid I was running around barefoot and whacked my toe on something, sympathy was lacking. Instead I’d hear “Stub your toe, meet your beau, kiss your thumb, he’s sure to come.” Again, not helpful. I mean, I’m in pain here! Plus, at that age who wanted a beau? Ick!
Some of the old expressions sort of made sense though. I knew my father was hungry when I’d hear him remark “My stomach thinks my throat’s cut.” And should I shut the television off, assuming Dad was asleep in his comfy chair with the sprung springs, he’d set me straight with “I’m just checking my eyelids for cracks.”
Certain sayings really nail it. To this day, after experiencing a particularly trying time, I find myself muttering “I feel like I’ve been dragged through a knothole backwards.” No other phrase describes that beaten down, tattered feeling in quite the same way.
But even after a backwards knothole episode, there is hope. By the seat of your pants, by the skin of your teeth, if you hold your mouth just right, the good Lord’s willin’ and the creek don’t rise, those clouds eventually part and show you just enough blue to make a shirt.
End
