A Way with Words - language, linguistics, and callers from all over

What The Cluck, Part 2 What does the expression egg on have to do with chickens? Nothing, actually. Martha explains why, and tells the story of how the term curate's egg came to mean 'something with both good and bad characteristics.' Last week I told you about a letter from Randy in San Diego. He's the guy who's raising three chickens in his backyard. That got him wondering about expressions in English involving chicken. For example, what about 'to egg someone on'? Randy says he gave his trio of hens three different nesting boxes. But they all insist on taking turns using the same one. Now, you have to picture this. He writes: 'Every day about 10 a.m., they each lay one egg. The hen who is laying the egg sits in the nesting box. The other two always stand near the nesting box squawking loudly until she is done. When the first hen finishes she trades places with one of the others and the whole thing happens again. They have always done this so I assume the behavior is where we get the expression to egg someone on.' Good guess, Randy. But get this: the 'egg' in 'egg on' has nothing to do with the kind you eat. To 'egg on' comes from an Old Norse verb, eggja, which means to 'goad or incite.' Eggja and 'egg on' share a common linguistic ancestor with many other sharp, pointy words, including 'edge.' In fact, in the past, the phrase 'to edge on' has been used in exactly the same way as 'egg on.' Here's another egg expression I really like. It's 'curate's egg,' and it means 'a mixed bag' -- as in 'I just read a curate's egg of a book. The plot was flimsy, and the characters were wooden, but I still couldn't put it down.' The expression 'curate's egg' goes back to a cartoon published in 1895 in the British magazine Punch: A meek curate -- that is, a clergyman -- is dining at the home of his bishop. Unfortunately, he's served a bad egg. The bishop notices that something's wrong and politely says, 'I'm afraid you've got a bad egg.' But the curate hastily replies, 'Oh, no, my Lord, I assure you...parts of it are excellent!' The joke, of course, is that if an egg is bad, it's going to be totally bad, not partly. But the curate's too timid to say so. The term curate's egg has since come to mean 'something with both good and bad characteristics.' Now, I'm egging you on: If you have a question about words, or any other aspect of language, please drop us a line. Our address is words@waywordradio.org. -- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write with your questions at any time: Email: words@waywordradio.org Phone: United States toll-free (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673 London +44 20 7193 2113 Mexico City +52 55 8421 9771 Site: http://waywordradio.org. Podcast: http://waywordradio.org/podcast/ Forums: http://waywordradio.org/discussion/ Newsletter: http://waywordradio.org/newsletter/ Twitter: http://twitter.com/wayword/ Skype: skype://waywordradio Copyright 2009, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This week, we received an email from Randy in San Diego. Randy writes: 'I recently got myself three hens for the back yard as a hobby that I thought my kids would enjoy. I highly recommend backyard chickens, by the way â theyâre better than television. During the months we have had these chickens, around I have had an opportunity to closely observe their behavior. This has me wondering about all the expressions and words we have in the U.S. related to chickens.' Great question, Randy. For starters, back in the days when most folks raised their own chickens, everybody knew that putting a fake egg in a chicken's nest would encourage her to lay more eggs. This fake egg was either wooden or ceramic. It was called a nest egg. Over time, this expression acquired the figurative meaning of 'a reserve of cash set aside.' Like those fake eggs that help get a chicken in the mood, your own nest egg of cash is supposed to help you acquire more. Of course, notice I said 'supposed to.' By the way, that reminds me of some chicken-based financial advice I once got from a fellow in eastern Kentucky. It went like this: Chicken for lunch, feathers for supper. In other words, be thrifty now, so you'll have some reserves for later. Want another example of hens nesting in the English language? In the 1920s, a Norwegian zoologist studying chicken behavior observed that the birds create strict social hierarchies. A bird's status within it determines such things as whether she can eat before everybody else, or has to wait her turn. The zoologist published his observations in scholarly article. Writing in German, he noted that hens create and enforce that hierarchy by pecking at each other. Searching for a word to describe this, he combined the German word hacken, which means 'to peck,' and ordnung, which means order. Soon after, Hackordnung was translated into English as pecking order. Of course, these days pecking order also applies human hierarchies. By the way, in case you missed it, you can hear even more about chickens -- specifically, the expression Nobody here but us chickens, which has an interesting backstory -- in this episode. http://www.waywordradio.org/days-of-wine-flights-and-mullets/ Has a linguistic question ruffled your feathers lately? Email us at words@waywordradio.org. -- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write with your questions at any time: Email: words@waywordradio.org Phone: United States toll-free (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673 London +44 20 7193 2113 Mexico City +52 55 8421 9771 Site: http://waywordradio.org. Podcast: http://waywordradio.org/podcast/ Forums: http://waywordradio.org/discussion/ Newsletter: http://waywordradio.org/newsletter/ Twitter: http://twitter.com/wayword/ Skype: skype://waywordradio Copyright 2009, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Recently The New Yorker magazine ran a profile of the writer David Foster Wallace, who died last year at the age of 46. The article included a line that I think Foster himself might have appreciated. It went like this: 'He was known for endlessly fracturing narratives and for stem-winding sentences adorned with footnotes that were themselves stem-winders.' So what's a stem-winder? Stem-winder goes back to the mid-19th century. It refers to an invention that was as nifty and state-of-the-art then as the coolest iPhone apps today. Think back to the days of pocket watches. In the really old days, people had to wind a watch the same way they wound clocks. They used a little key. Not only was that a hassle, those keys were easy to lose.    In the 1840s, a watchmaker in Switzerland perfected a different way to keep a watch running. He put a knob on a tiny metal stem, and attached it permanently to the spring mechanism. People lucky enough to own these newfangled timepieces could throw away their key, and wind their watches whenever they wanted. These fancy new stem-winders were some of the coolest gadgets around -- so cool that by the late 1800s, people were applying the term stem-winder to mean anything excellent or first-rate. Over time, stem-winder also came to apply specifically to a rousing, impassioned speech or to a great orator. Perhaps that's because a stirring speech or an energetic speaker could get folks in a crowd wound up, just like a watch. Dictionaries apparently haven't caught up with the fact that these days, many people use 'stem-winder' in a different sense. Occasionally you'll hear the term applied to a long-winded, boring speech -- one so long and boring you're tempted to look down at your watch and wind it. Or you would if it didn't run on batteries. And I have to wonder whether the notion of 'winding,' in the sense of something 'circuitous,' also influenced the magazine writer's choice of 'stem-winding' to describe those long, stirring sentences of David Foster Wallace. By the way, if you're a word lover, you'll want to check out that article in New Yorker. You can read it here. You can also read an excerpt of the last novel Wallace ever wrote, which will be published posthumously in 2010. http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/03/09/090309fa_fact_max?currentPage=all http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/features/2009/03/09/090309fi_fiction_wallace What word or phrase has caught your eye lately? We'd love to hear about it. Send any stem-winders you find to words@waywordradio.org. -- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write with your questions at any time: Email: words@waywordradio.org Phone: United States toll-free (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673 London +44 20 7193 2113 Mexico City +52 55 8421 9771 Site: http://waywordradio.org. Podcast: http://waywordradio.org/podcast/ Forums: http://waywordradio.org/discussion/ Newsletter: http://waywordradio.org/newsletter/ Twitter: http://twitter.com/wayword/ Skype: skype://waywordradio Copyright 2009, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Martha explains how experiments with dead frogs and live wires led to the invention of the battery, and inspired a couple of familiar English words. I had to change the batteries in my flashlight the other day, and that makes think, as it always does, of Luigi Galvani. No, really, it does. Let me explain: Galvani was an 18th-century Italian physician and physicist whose experiments accidentally paved the way for modern batteries. The focus of his research? Galvani experimented with dead frogs and live wires. In 1791, he published a paper describing how he'd touched a dead frog's leg with one wire, and touched another wire to both the frog and the first wire. When the second wire made contact, the lifeless body jerked. Galvani believed these convulsions were the result of 'animal electricity,' a mysterious substance secreted by the body. What Galvani failed to grasp was that by touching wires made of two different metals to the frog -- and to each other -- he'd simply created a closed circuit. At the time, Galvani's report was nothing short of astonishing. As one of his contemporaries wrote in a letter: 'Now here the experiments are also repeated in ladies' salons, and they furnish a good spectacle to all.' A generation later, Mary Shelley would write her novel Frankenstein, and specifically credit Galvani's experiments as an inspiration. But his work also inspired further research by another Italian scientist, one who didn't buy the idea of 'animal electricity.' His name was Alessandro Volta. He suspected that the frog's body didn't secrete electricity, it conducted it. Soon Volta was stacking pieces of zinc and silver and, instead of animal tissue, cardboard soaked in brine. The electrifying result was the first 'voltaic pile,' forerunner of the batteries we use today. As you may have guessed, Volta's name lives on in our word for that unit of electrical measurement, the volt. Despite his scientific mistake, Galvani achieved a measure of linguistic immortality as well. Today you'll find his name inside a word that means to 'jolt' or 'jump-start': galvanize. Incidentally, if you're having a hard time picturing Galvani's many experiments, there are lots of illustrations on the Web, including here and here. http://galvanisfrog.com/Home.php http://www.batteryfacts.co.uk/BatteryHistory/Galvani.html -- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write with your questions at any time: Email: words@waywordradio.org Phone: U.S. toll-free (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673, London +44 20 7193 2113, Mexico City +52 55 8421 9771 Site: http://waywordradio.org. Podcast: http://waywordradio.org/podcast/ Forums: http://waywordradio.org/discussion/ Newsletter: http://waywordradio.org/newsletter/ Twitter: http://twitter.com/wayword/ Skype: skype://waywordradio Copyright 2009, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

[Portions of this episode were first broadcast November 1, 2008.] Apple core, Baltimore! Ever play the rhyming game where you eat an apple, then shout 'apple core,' and then the first person to respond 'Baltimore!' gets to decide where (more specifically, at whom) the core gets tossed. This old-fashioned game is hours of fun for the whole family! We promise. 'A fish stinks from the head down.' When an Indianapolis woman is quoted saying that, she's accused of calling someone a stinky fish. She says she wasn't speaking literally, insisting that this is a turn of phrase that means 'corruption in an organization starts at the top.' Who's right? Dude, how'd we ever start using the word 'dude'? The Big Grantbowski traces the word's origin--it's over 125 years old. Here's a poem about dandy dudes from 1883 , the year the word zoomed into common use. Ben Zimmer at Visual Thesaurus also has a very good summary of what is known about 'dude.' Quiz Guy John Chaneski drops by with a puzzle involving overlapping words. He calls it, of course, 'Overlap-Plied Linguistics.' If you're hung over, and someone offers you a little 'hair of the dog,' you can rest assured you're not being offered a sip of something with real dog hair in it. But was that always the case? Grant has the answer, and Martha offers a word once proposed as a medical term for this crapulent condition: veisalgia. A new resident of Pittsburgh is startled by some of the dialect there, like 'yinz' instead of 'you' for the second person plural, and nebby for 'nosy.' For a wonderful site about the dialect of that area, check out Pittsburgh Speech and Society . If someone says he 'finna go,' he means he's leaving. But finna? Grant has the final word about finna. Good news if you've wondered about a word for recognizable images composed of random visual stimuli—that image of Elvis in your grilled-cheese sandwich, for example. It's pareidolia . In this week's 'Slang This!,' a member of the National Puzzlers' League from Boston tries to guess the meaning of four possible slang terms, including labanza, woefits, prosciutto, and moose-tanned. At Murray's Cheese in Grand Central Station, the workers who sell cheese are called 'cheesemongers.' The store's opening up a new section to sell cold cuts, and workers there are looking for more appetizing term than 'meatmonger.' (Meat-R-Maids? Never mind.) Martha and Grant try to help. At sports events in North America, we enthusiastically root for the home team, right? But a woman from Kenosha, Wisconsin, says an Aussie told her that they most assuredly don't do that Down Under. There, he tells her, rooting means 'having sex.' Is he pulling her leg, she wonders? -- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write with your questions at any time: Email: words@waywordradio.org Phone: U.S. toll-free (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673, London +44 20 7193 2113, Mexico City +52 55 8421 9771 Site: http://waywordradio.org. Podcast: http://waywordradio.org/podcast/ Forums: http://waywordradio.org/discussion/ Newsletter: http://waywordradio.org/newsletter/ Twitter: http://twitter.com/wayword/ Skype: skype://waywordradio Copyright 2009, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Time for another linguistic mystery. Where would you be if you decided to go twacking around duckish, and then you came home and wrote about it in a scribbler? Any idea? If you're going twacking around duckish, you're likely in Newfoundland. The type of English spoken there may be the most distinctive collection of dialects in Canada. Some of it sounds a lot like Irish-accented English. Other dialects in Newfoundland have echoes of the speech of immigrants from the West Country of England. Visit Newfoundland, and you'll be greeted by some colorful vocabulary. The verb to twack means 'to go shopping and ask about the prices, but then not buy anything.' I guess that's the Newfie version of 'window shopping.' Duckish means 'dusk' or 'twilight.' And a scribbler is a 'notebook.'   If you want to hear some terrific examples of Newfoundland English, check out the International Dialects of English Archive online. http://web.ku.edu/idea/northamerica/canada/newfoundland/newfoundland.htm Here's another online treat for word lovers: the Dictionary of Newfoundland English. Start rummaging around on this lovely site, and you'll discover a yaffle â that means an armful â of great words, like dumbledore. That's right, spelled just like the Harry Potter character. In Newfoundland, a dumbledore is a 'bumblebee.' We'd love to know what regionalisms have caught your ear lately. Send them along to words@waywordradio.org. As they say in Newfoundland, we'd be wonderful happy to hear from you. -- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write with your questions at any time: Email: words@waywordradio.org Phone: U.S. toll-free (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673, London +44 20 7193 2113, Mexico City +52 55 8421 9771 Site: http://waywordradio.org. Podcast: http://waywordradio.org/podcast/ Forums: http://waywordradio.org/discussion/ Newsletter: http://waywordradio.org/newsletter/ Twitter: http://twitter.com/wayword/ Skype: skype://waywordradio Copyright 2009, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Time for another linguistic mystery. In what part of the country would you be likely to hear older folks using the following phrases? 'He sure was mommucking his little brother.' And: 'Why, those kids used to play meehonkey every afternoon!' And: 'Ohhhhhhh, I was quamished in the stomach.' Give up? The place you're likely to hear the words mommucking, meehonkey, and quamished is called Ocracoke. It's just off the North Carolina coast -- one of the Outer Banks barrier islands. Settled by the British in the early 1700s, Ocracoke's small, relatively isolated community developed its own distinctive dialect. One of the dialect's most striking features is its pronunciation. In the so-called 'Ocracoke brogue,' the expression 'high tide' sounds more like 'hoi toid.' On the island, you'll also hear some words that you won't find in many other places. Mommuck means to 'harass' or 'bother.' Quamish means 'queasy.' And old-timers on Ocracoke remember playing the island's special version of hide-and-seek. They call it meehonkey. You can hear some audio clips of Outer Banks English here, from the North Carolina State's Language and Linguistics Program. http://www.ncsu.edu/chass/english/linguistics/code/Research%20Sites/ocracoke_audio.htm And for a great introduction to the topic, check out Hoi Toide on the Outer Banks, by linguists Walt Wolfram and Natalie Schilling-Estes. http://www.ncsu.edu/chass/english/linguistics/code/Research%20Sites/ocracoke/hoitoidebook.htm And here you'll find video of O'cokers, as they call themselves, in conversation. http://www.learnnc.org/lp/pages/4811 What regional expressions have caught your ear lately? Email us at words@waywordradio.org.   --- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write 24 hours a day: (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673, words@waywordradio.org, or visit our web site and discussion forums at http://waywordradio.org. Copyright 2009, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Time to solve another linguistic mystery. You're in a restaurant. You overhear a conversation at the next table. The woman says to her friend, 'You know, I just love the taste of joe floggers.' And her dining companion replies enthusiastically, 'Joe floggers? Oh, so don't I!' Okay, so where would you likely to hear people talk about the joys of 'joe floggers'? Well, chances are you'd probably be in...New England, most likely coastal Massachusetts or Maine. There 'joe flogger' is a name denoting a variety of culinary treats. It may be a pancake stuffed with plums, or it may be a kind of doughnut. They're sometimes known as 'joe froggers' or simply 'frogs.' And, as is typical with many food names, 'joe frogger' also does double duty as the term for yet another confection: a large, molasses-flavored cookie. So how about the enthusiastic expression 'So don't I!'? This odd construction actually expresses agreement, not disagreement. For example, someone might say, 'I like ice cream,' to which you'd reply, 'So don't I!' meaning 'I do, too!' It's been called 'the Massachusetts negative-positive.' But the truth is that 'So don't I!' is found in pockets throughout New England. And its origins remain a puzzle. Speaking of puzzles, I'll be back with another linguistic mystery next time. In the meantime, I'd love to know what regional expressions jumped out at you the first time you heard them. Email me at words@waywordradio.org. Want to try baking your own batch of joe froggers? Here's a recipe. http://www.cakespy.com/2008/08/not-joe-mammas-cookies-legend-of-joe.html Like what you hear? If you'd like to support 'A Way with Words,' you can make a contribution here. http://www.waywordradio.org/donate/ -- Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write 24 hours a day: (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673, words@waywordradio.org, or visit our web site and discussion forums at http://waywordradio.org. Copyright 2009, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Where in the world would you be likely to find sculch in your dooryard, or ask for just a dite of cream in your coffee? Martha has the answers in this minicast about some distinctive regional terms. ... Here's a linguistic puzzle for you. Suppose you stopped by my home and said, 'Martha, did you know there's sculch in your dooryard?' That's right, sculch in my dooryard. So, in what part of the country would you expect to hear these terms? The answer? We'd probably be in New England, and most likely Maine. There the word 'sculch' means 'trash.' And in much of New England and part of New York State, you'll often hear people refer to the yard near a house as the dooryard. Over the next few weeks, I want to talk with you about regional expressions like these. Terms that will be perfectly familiar to those who live in one part of the country, but mystifying -- or even jarring -- to those living somewhere else. Or, as they say in Maine, to someone who is 'from away'-- that is, anywhere other than their state. Another word you'll find mainly in Maine is dite. It's spelled either D-I-T-E or D-I-G-H-T. In Maine, the word 'dite' means 'just a little, a smidge.' As in, 'Oh, give me just a dite of butter,' or 'Move over just a dite, will you?' It appears the term 'dite' comes from a Scots word that means the same thing, and derives in turn, from a Dutch word that means 'a small coin.' Well, that's just a dite about some of the words you'll hear in New England, especially in Maine. We want to know what regional expressions you found jarring the first time you heard them. Email us at words@waywordradio.org. By the way, if you want to hear some recordings of the distinctive Maine accent, check these out. http://web.ku.edu/idea/northamerica/usa/maine/maine.htm Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go clean out the sculch someone left in my dooryard. ... Like what you hear? If you'd like to support 'A Way with Words,' you can make a contribution: http://www.waywordradio.org/donate/ Get your language question answered on the air! Call or write 24 hours a day: (877) WAY-WORD/(877) 929-9673, words@waywordradio.org, or visit our web site and discussion forums at http://waywordradio.org. Copyright 2009, Wayword LLC. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Obamamania, Obamabot, Obamathon, Obamamentum— the list of variations on the name “Obama” goes on and on. Is there an English word that means “the in-laws of your son or daughter”? And what does it mean when someone says, “Well, that was odder than Dick’s hatband!”?Read full show notes, hear hundreds of free episodes, send your thoughts and questions, and learn more on the A Way with Words website: https://waywordradio.org/contact. Be a part of the show: call 1 (877) 929-9673 toll-free in the United States and Canada; worldwide, call or text/SMS +1 (619) 800-4443. Email words@waywordradio.org. Twitter @wayword. Copyright Wayword, Inc., a 501(c)(3) corporation. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices