They're Too Heavy to Carry
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored," accused of having too big a vocabulary since 1973!
How vividly I recall the ugly, nasty chap in Middle School who got all his buddies to call me "Walking, Talking Dictionary." Girls were not supposed to be smart. They were supposed to fawn over guys who hate smart girls.
Yawn on the lawn until dawn, never fawn! That was my philosophy.
On the first day of first grade, the teacher handed out the first primer. While she was handing it out, I read the whole thing, cover to cover. Mama, trained as a teacher, couldn't work because of her fragile health. She had taught me to read when I was three. It stuck, and I became a Walking, Talking, etc. etc. etc.
Another layer: My Appalachian grandma could rhyme all the time, on the dime. You could say I'm hard-wired to love words.
Speaking of words, if I can't find one that suits me, I'll make it up! Probably the last nail in my Walking, Talking, etc. etc. etc. coffin was the year of Latin that I took as a curious high school senior. All those prefixes, suffixes, and root words! What a treasure trove!
Nulla dies sine linea. Another philosophical statement. Perhaps you've noticed that about me.
So, I may not get all the words right, or I may graft a few together that don't quite mesh, but hey. It's easier than lugging around a heavy old dictionary.
Speaking of heavy old dictionaries, have you ever seen the Oxford English Dictionary in all its splendor? Send me to the county library, point out the shelf it's on, and I'm a no-show to the cocktail party. You may not see me again until Februrary, by which time I'll know the complete history of the words "devil," "orgasm," and "whiskey."
Drunk on words again! One day I'm gonna sober up.
THE MERLIN OF BERKELEY SPRINGS
See me and Bibi at Faerie Con! Only a few weeks away!