Tips of the Slung... or Slips of the Tongue

Definition of spoonerism

: a transposition of usually initial sounds of two or more words (as in tons of soil for sons of toil)

What I’ve got isn’t exactly a spoonerism problem although I have yet to find the correct diagnostic term for my particular verbal ailment.

Or roaring with pain…

Whatever it is, it’s definitely from my mother’s side of the family. My mother has trouble remembering the odd names of things and comes up with something just slightly off (and off-putting) like calling someone “Butson” instead of “Watson.”

Or you might go to “Bernie’s” for a nice handbag when really you’d probably go to “Barneys.”

These are a source of endless humor for her four children… The best such story is from when she and my dad were up in Alaska, fly fishing. They were in a little bait shop, in the middle of nowhere and my mom had heard that blood-sucking leaches were doing well as bait. So, standing in front of the old fishermen and the grizzly storeowner, my mom announced. “I think I’l try those cock-sucking roaches today.”

The storeowner, who had surely met all types, said, “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that pattern.”

Insert hysterical gut laughter from us kids….

Until the day I was at lunch with a girlfriend and we were talking about dream vacations. I told her I’d love to go to Norway or Sweden to see the (what for it)…. areola borealis.

It took me a minute to realize my mistake.

Hiding my red face behind my glass, I corrected myself. “I mean the aurora borealis.”

They said it would happen… I’m becoming my mother!

Too old to dress up? Impossible!

I LOVE dressing up for Halloween. Maybe it’s because my brain is always full of crazy characters and it’s fun to act them out. Or maybe it’s because I spend my days alone in the basement which leaves me starving for human attention.

Whatever the reason, I LOVE LOVE LOVE it. But I have a problem with following directions. (This is true in other areas as well.)

In Halloween costuming, it means I throw something together. I find a crazy feather wreath and turn it into a hat or buy a pair of fake leather pants on super sale and need a way to wear them… Attach a black crow to my arm (not a real one, mind you)

This is SO much fun for me until that moment when someone dressed as an Incredible or a Minion or Peter Pan asks, “What are you?”

To which, I have no good answer… “Uh… crazy raven witch? Bird lady in mourning? Post-apocalyptic Sandra Dee?!”

See below for a close up of my arm ornament which almost put out the eyes of a dozen children. Oops!