Every family has some nonsensical saying or word that has been passed down for so many generations that no one can really place accurate blame on its creator. Not surprising to anyone who has met my family, we have a lot of them. Our sayings range from the regionally acceptable “dumber than sled tracks” to the convoluted “hot pad holder” (it’s a pot holder…who would’ve guessed?).
The prime suspect for our oddest sayings is Grandma, who thinks it’s normal to call a model home a “sample home” or claims that perfume has a lovely “odor.” For all the off-the-wall things Grandma says, more often than not she uses the correct word, although the definition is the last one listed or is noted as obsolete. Sometimes her English language relics cause some problems when in polite company. One time Grandma was telling my parents’ Sunday school teacher a story about how my grandfather always made people feel important and said, “Oh, when [so-and-so] came into the room that day, Julian just ejaculated all over him!” Everyone was in shock and knew she couldn’t mean what they all thought she did. After years of telling the story and laughing about it, my mom finally looked “ejaculate” up in the dictionary and we all stood corrected.
Though someone who comes from my gene pool should not cast stones, I’m going to lob a big one at my boyfriend Eric anyway. We’ve had many heated arguments over the proper name for cheese melted onto a tortilla and served with the tortilla folded over. For the first 8 months of our relationship, I kept my mouth shut when he said he was going to make a “tortilla and cheese.” One evening, when I was in an especially foul mood, I said, “Eric, for the love of God, it’s called a quesadilla. Do you name all the ingredients of everything else you cook?” He argued that quesadillas are totally different from tortilla and cheeses, like two completely different species of food that necessitate two names. Apparently in his family, a tortilla and cheese is microwaved and a quesadilla is grilled. After over a month of confrontation in front of the microwave, I have conceded. Not because I believe he’s right, because he’s not , but because he isn’t completely wrong, just very descriptive. Maybe we'll eventually be able to use my hot pad holders to get the tortilla and cheese out of the microwave without a second thought.
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