of the Week
word or phrase to add to your army.
Pulchritude (PULL-krih-tood) is an awfully awkward sounding word with just the opposite sort of meaning. If I told you that you possessed great pulchritude, would you consider it a compliment right off the bat? Probably not. You might even be tempted to huff away with hurt feelings. But don't be too hasty!
Pulchritude means (drum roll, please) physical beauty. Now, here's an interesting bit of trivia. The adjective for having beauty is beautiful. You might suspect that the adjective for having pulchritude would, therefore, be pulchritudiful. It is, in fact, not that word at all! It is a mouthful of a word. Are you ready? I'm going to tell you how beautiful you are using the pulchritude adjective. Ready? Are you sure? OK, then.
You are pulchritudinous!
Sorry. I didn't mean to shout. It's just that you are so dog-gone pulchritudinous I can hardly catch my breath!
No, no, no! Never hide your pulchritude from the world!
Twitterpated might sound like it has something to do with tweeting something on social media, and though you might do just that if you are twitterpated, as several gentemen have this week for this particular author, much to her dismay, it is actually a condition that can happen anytime and anywhere, but is often thought of as occuring in the spring.
When someone becomes completely head over heels over someone else, or finds themselves super-crushing on them, thinking about them non-stop, like I did my 6th grade math teacher, Mr. Purcell (Oh, he was so fine!!!), it is called twitterpated. I was twitterpated not only over Mr. Purcell in the 6th grade, but on several boys in high school. Nowadays, it takes a lot to get me twitterpated.
Oh, who am I kidding! I get twitterpated at the drop of a hat! What is a single old lady to do?
Today, I wanted to share a phrase. I wanted to share this phrase, because I am feeling this phrase. The phrase I am feeling and therefore sharing is . . . wait for it . . . "a day late and a dollar short." But, then, you knew that, didn't you? You knew that because it was the title of this post and because you are a very sharp person! Do you know how I know that? It is not because I am a day late and a dollar short. It is because you are here reading this post. People who want to know wonderful words and fabulous phrases check this website every Monday.
But, you declare out loud, it is not Monday! It is Tuesday! And Tuesday afternoon at that! AHA! You've been caught, Becky Lyn Rickman! You are a day late and a dollar short!
And, there, my friends, you have it! You have defined this fine little phrase yourself. You see, it is awful to be a day late. It is terrible to be a dollar short. But to be both? Well, that is an unspeakable tragedy. And I, Becky Lyn Rickman, am guilty of just such a tragedy in letting my little readers down by not posting this post in a timely posting manner! For that, I am every so sorry! Do please forgive me, and let's move on!
Agelast looks like it might be pronounced as a compound word: age-last. It is not, in fact, pronounced that way. It is pronounced ah-jih-lost. It is important for me to share with you that I am anything BUT an agelast.
If you've ever seen an ancient photograph, you will definitely see any number of agelasts. People tended to be pretty somber when they had their pictures taken a hundred years ago.
"Come on, girlie, smile for me!"
"No, I shan't do that!"
An agelast is a person who almost never smiles or laughs. They are also commonly referred to as "wet blankets," "sourpusses," and "party poopers."
I sometimes think people act like agelasts do so for attention. They want you to come up and ask them if they are OK so they can share their sad tales with you. It often backfires, however, and makes people want to avoid them.
This is not to say you should ALWAYS have a smile on your face. It is OK to be sad or angry sometimes. It just should not become a lifelong habit.
I am Becky Lyn Rickman. I am a writer because I love words almost as much as I love the people in my life. I want to fill the world with magnificent words and then jump in and splash around in them. I live with Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, my cats, but the only words they really love are "meat" and "gravy."