Raw Drip

In sharp contrast to many American households, I’m proud to report that we are bi-lingual.  We aim to be fluent in both English and Kiddo.

But becoming a bi-lingual household is a lot harder than I thought it would be, primarily because Adam and Tabitha are both native Kiddo speakers and seem to lack any interest in helping their English-speaking parents learn their language.  While we’re making strides towards understanding each other, we often find ourselves in a verbal tug of war - parents vs. kids - with me and Dick desperately trying to teach them English and Adam & Tabitha, desperately clinging to their native tongue, Kiddo.

Some examples of our struggle:

Coco-haunt-us - translation: Pocahontas.  No, Adam & Tabitha didn’t watch a movie about a ghostly French poodle as Dick and I first suspected.  After several rounds of, “Say, what?” we finally got it - Pocahontas.  How obvious…

Da wan - translation: the van.  Equipped with comfortable leather seats, toys, books, abundant cup holders (not to mention abundant snacks ground into the carpeting), and most importantly, the DVD player, the mini-van (don’t judge me) is a little kid oasis on wheels.  So, when Dick arrives at daycare with his car, Adam has a fit demanding that he be chauffered in “da wan” so he can watch Bob da Builder for the 700th time.  Check it:  I’ve managed to string together a sentence Adam actually understands - “Da wan is wike, da coowest.” That one always makes him smile.

Harryham Winken - translation: Abraham Lincoln.  When Adam discovered the face on the penny I gave him the other day, he asked me who it was.  When I told him it was Abraham Lincoln, he looked amused and said, “Who is this Harryham Winken?”  I told him, “Harryham Winken was our 16th president and an all around good guy.  We’ll learn more about his good deeds when you can pronounce his name in English.”

Joey Peanut-butter - translation: Adam’s alter ego.  For one entire weekend last summer, Adam would only respond to the name Joey Peanut-butter.  Any accidental references to “Adam” were dismissed with “I’m not Adam. I’m Joey Peanut-butter!”  My response: “Which Peanut-butter clan do you represent, because I’m clearly loyal to the Smoothies, while Daddy is a vigorous defendant of the Crunchies and your allegiance could have a big impact on upcoming refrigerator territory discussions?”  This response has the effect of rendering Adam speechless - for a micro-second.

Prettyfull - translation: a combination of the words beautiful and pretty.  Adam uses this word to strategically praise my appearance causing teary-eyed looks of adoration from his sucker of a mommy.  This is one Kiddo word I totally get.

S-T-E-L-L- translation: spell.  A favorite Mommy & Daddy-approved TV show is “Super Why”on PBS Sprout.  This show features a bunch of storybook characters who have formed their own Super Hero Book Club to solve problems using their reading skills.  A regular segment covers spelling with a song that goes, “I love to spell - S-P-E-L-L…”, which to our great amusement, Adam routinely misspells as S-T-E-L-L.  It’s a good thing he’s cute…

Toomy - translation: tummy.  I don’t know why, but apparently saying “tummy” isn’t amusing enough for Adam, so he clings to his own exaggerated pronunciation by swapping out the “uh” for an “oo” sound.  He usually says this word while holding up his shirt, pointing to his belly button, and making kissy lips.  Even worse, he often grabs the flab that passes for my toomy and slaps it against his bare hands to watch it “jiggle”.  Afterwards, Mommy briefly subsists on sugar-free chewing gum and ice water in an effort to locate lost tummy underneath the flab. 

Trash-stick- translation: traffic.  Whenever we get caught up in the suburban New Jersey morning rush hour, Adam will point out that we’re sitting in trash-stick.  I take pains to correct his pronunciation by asking him to say “traf” and then “ic”.  He parrots back these sounds perfectly, but once strung together they are morphed into trash-stick.  I assume he won’t go off to college like this, right? 

Wagina - translation: vagina.  Tabitha is fond of constantly reminding us all that she has one, while Adam, Daddy, and Logan (the dog) all have penises.  As I was toweling off from a shower the other morning she pointed to my nether-regions and demanded, “Mommy - I want see you wagina”, to which I responded, “If daddy can’t see it, neither can you, dear.”  Oddly, she seemed to understand me.

Years ago, my in-laws played host to several students that were part of the local high school’s foreign exchange program.  One such guest of the family was Gustav.   At the time, Gustav didn’t strike me as being particularly insightful.  Frankly, my biggest memory of him was that we all just wanted him to take a shower. 

But now that I look back on Gustav’s brief time with us, I’ve come to appreciate him, or at least something he once said when describing my mother-in-law’s cooking - “Not really a meal, not really a dinner.” 

You see, with Anne’s hectic schedule, she frequently relied on quick-cook meals such as salads, a piece of grilled chicken & a microwaved baked potato for dinner.  Good, but unfussy fare requiring minimal prep time.  Apparently, this type of cooking wasn’t to Gustav’s liking.  The other exchange students told us that Gustav’s mother would prepare elaborate multi-course meals for him every night, so it’s not surprising that Anne’s off-the-cuff cooking style left him wanting.

Gustav is long gone, but I’ve found that ”not really a meal, not really a dinner” lives on.  It serves as an easily understood metaphor for all things squishy or underwhelming - like this blog, for instance .  Some more examples:

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Ashley Judd Films

While I can see that she’s a talented actress, so many of her films seem like drawn out Lifetime Movies of the Week - only with her boobs showing.  The films she’s chosen don’t seem to have enough meat to make great film, but they’re good as entertainment.  See what I mean? Not really a meal, not really a dinner.

The Presidential Race

John McCain - not really a meal, not really a dinner

Mike Huckabee - not really an appetizer, meal or a dinner - just gravy

Mitt Romney -  not really a meal, but listed as one on the menu

Hillary Clinton - not really a meal, not really a dinner

Barack Obama - dinner*

John Edwards - 8×10 glossy of supper on the cover of a cooking magazine

*I don’t want to get too political here - that’s not what Raw Drip’s about - but just let it be known that I think Obama is probably both a meal and a dinner. Whatever you call him, I think it’s nice to have another choice on the menu.

Morning News Shows

Granted, I grew up in the Jane Pauley/Bryant Gumble era of morning news shows, but didn’t they use to spend more time on, well, news?  Remember news?  That was the stuff that used to be brought to us several times a day, providing important information about global events - not just stuff happening in the U.S.?  These days,  the morning news reader only gets 60 seconds every half hour to brief us on the day’s news so we can get back to important information like the latest trends in hemlines.  With today’s “news” focus squarely on entertainment without, lets face it, actually being all that entertaining, I’m left with that “not really a meal, not really a dinner” feeling… 

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See how “not really a meal, not really a dinner” just works?  It smartly captures the subtleties we often struggle to describe - the difference between a meal & a dinner, between art & entertainment and between seeming different, but sounding the same. 

So here you go.  Take Gustav’s term and use it freely- it’s my little gift to you.  I only ask that you cite Raw Drip as its source so, maybe some day I can pay for a meal, maybe even a dinner.   

Excuses aren’t what they used to be.  Take the excuse offered by Haagen-Dazs Ice Cream which announced this week that consumers may be in for a sizeable price increase for their next pint of ice cream.  The excuse: the drastically falling honeybee population in the U.S.  That’s right - your Butter Pecan fix is soon going to cost you a little extra because honeybees just aren’t putting-out the way that they used to. 

Haagen-Dazs, which is owned by Nestle, justifies the potential price increases by explaining that one-third of the U.S. food supply - including a variety of fruits, vegetables and even nuts - depends on pollination from bees.  The company claims that bees are actually responsible for 40% of its 60 flavors - such as strawberry, toasted pecan and banana split.

Scientists have confirmed that there is dwindling honeybee population in the U.S.,  however I find this whole thing very suspicious.  I mean, bees are notoriously hard-working (”busy as a bee”) and reliable.  They are the Toyotas of the insect world.  It’s hard to believe that they’re just abandoning their posts, en masse.  What does seem obvious is that Haagen-Dazs is trying to use this unexplained natural phenomenon to justify an unwarranted price increase. 

And, strategically speaking, how did Haagen-Dazs become so bee-dependent? If 40% of their flavors are tied to bee productivity, why wasn’t someone on their end preparing for this eventuality years ago?  With the onset of global warming and the rise of reality tv most certainly marking the end of days, one would assume that major corporations heavily invested in consistent bee productivity, would throw some research dollars towards alternative methods or ingredients.  Should their lack of foresight really justify a sense of urgency on my part? 

Let me be clear here, I am not an ice cream junkie.  I enjoy ice cream as much as the next person, but chocolate is my drug of choice.  I do know that countless others rely on ice cream for it’s curative properties - PMS-driven cravings and boredom relief, for instance.  This makes Haagen-Dazs’ whole “blame it on the bees” position even more despicable, since their shameless attempts at price-gouging impact the most desperate and loyal ice cream consumers.   

One last point - if the world’s ice cream supplies are truly in jeopardy, why haven’t we heard from the Breyers or Ben & Jerry’s folks?  As Dick would say in his most skeptical voice - interesting.   As for me, I’m going to file this one under “unbeelievable”.