In celebration of the fact that it is RAINING for the very first time since I moved to Berkeley nearly five months ago, here is a list of some of the choicer English words that originate from Old Norse (prompted by a very enjoyable post-dinner discussion tonight with half-Swedish friends). The list is I think remarkably evocative of Viking, er, ambiance, although ambiance may itself be too delicate and French a word in this context. It reminds me of a lovely quote from Jon Bridgman, who taught history at the University of Washington for a zillion years, to the effect that, 'If you want to tell whether an English word is Latin or Anglo-Saxon in origin, hit your thumb with a big hammer very hard; all the words that come out will be Anglo-Saxon.' Without further ado (ado also being of Norse extraction), voici la liste:
anger awe awkward axle berserk billow
bleak blunder bulk club crawl crook
cur die dirt dregs haggle heathen
hit ill irk keel knife knot
mire mistake muck muggy oaf odd
outlaw plough ransack rid root rotten
rugged scare scant scathe scrap scrape
skid skull slaughter sledge stagger stain
steak thwart troll ugly
... also, weirdly, 'ombudsman,' (you don't really think of the Vikings having ombudsmen, at least I don't, but it turns out indeed they did). And just in case I am accused of political incorrectness and inferring that people of Nordic extraction are all berserk scary ransacking rotten oafs, they also came up with 'Yule,' so happy very early Christmas to all and to all a good night. I am quite enjoying the early dark and the rain, at least for the moment; it is warming a little northern corner of my soul that doesn't entirely approve of all this eternal California sunshine.
Monday, 22 October 2012
Thursday, 4 October 2012
in praise of elusive sleep
Sleep is lovely sleep is nice sleep feels good sleep is delicious sleep is NOT HAPPENING arghghghghghgh.
Many reasons for sleep not to happen the last few days:
- All-nighter on labor and delivery in the hospital on Sunday night (fun but exhausting)
- Long long long long long long day in clinic on Monday followed by sleeping next door to croupy twins at lovely friend's house (fun to see lovely friend, albeit briefly, less fun and more exhausting to sleep next door to croupy twins)
- Clingy baby on return home Tuesday night; she is psychotically unwilling to let me out of arm's reach for the first 24 hours or so after I am back home with her. I generally feel the same way about her, and really don't see much point in doing anything but curling up on the sofa and cuddling and kissing her nonstop, but she's much stricter about it: I'm not even allowed to get up to get a Kleenex to blow my nose without her starting to shriek and grab onto my leg as if we were being dragged apart by Nazi soldiers onto different cattle cars destined for Bergen-Belsen and Theresienstadt respectively. Bedtime has turned into a complicated diplomatic negotiation: I want to sleep, she doesn't care where she is as long as I am within six inches, the Good Mummy reference manual which I do consult occasionally says really the best thing for Baby is for Baby to sleep in Baby's Own Bed, so what has been happening the last few nights I've had her is that Baby gets put in Baby's Own Bed, and keeps the requests to "SLEEP TOGETHER MUMMY SLEEP TOGETHER MUMMY" to a low whimper only as long as I stay right there next to the crib singing the Wheels on the Bus over and over and over again until eventually I am allowed to go to bed on the floor next to the crib - still holding hands, mind you - until finally she conks out and I can get up and get into my own bed, at least until 2 a.m. when she wakes up and discovers my heartless treachery and comes to reclaim me and we do the whole thing over again. It's like having an obsessively jealous lover, albeit one who is only three feet tall and intermittently incontinent.
Also I am getting sick.
I wish for sleep.
Many reasons for sleep not to happen the last few days:
- All-nighter on labor and delivery in the hospital on Sunday night (fun but exhausting)
- Long long long long long long day in clinic on Monday followed by sleeping next door to croupy twins at lovely friend's house (fun to see lovely friend, albeit briefly, less fun and more exhausting to sleep next door to croupy twins)
- Clingy baby on return home Tuesday night; she is psychotically unwilling to let me out of arm's reach for the first 24 hours or so after I am back home with her. I generally feel the same way about her, and really don't see much point in doing anything but curling up on the sofa and cuddling and kissing her nonstop, but she's much stricter about it: I'm not even allowed to get up to get a Kleenex to blow my nose without her starting to shriek and grab onto my leg as if we were being dragged apart by Nazi soldiers onto different cattle cars destined for Bergen-Belsen and Theresienstadt respectively. Bedtime has turned into a complicated diplomatic negotiation: I want to sleep, she doesn't care where she is as long as I am within six inches, the Good Mummy reference manual which I do consult occasionally says really the best thing for Baby is for Baby to sleep in Baby's Own Bed, so what has been happening the last few nights I've had her is that Baby gets put in Baby's Own Bed, and keeps the requests to "SLEEP TOGETHER MUMMY SLEEP TOGETHER MUMMY" to a low whimper only as long as I stay right there next to the crib singing the Wheels on the Bus over and over and over again until eventually I am allowed to go to bed on the floor next to the crib - still holding hands, mind you - until finally she conks out and I can get up and get into my own bed, at least until 2 a.m. when she wakes up and discovers my heartless treachery and comes to reclaim me and we do the whole thing over again. It's like having an obsessively jealous lover, albeit one who is only three feet tall and intermittently incontinent.
Also I am getting sick.
I wish for sleep.
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