Bill Bryson Writes a Dictionary -- What's the Meaning of That?

I picked up BRYSON'S DICTIONARY FOR WRITERS AND EDITORS today and skimmed it late this afternoon. I thought I'd select 10 of my favorite examples and post them here, but as it turned out I hit the Top Ten before I ever got through the "E" section. I'm including them here, and will continue through the alphabet -- highlighting more favorites in the days to come. (To my surprise, I noted a few inconsistencies in Bill's text -- copy editing errors, no doubt -- but there is some funky stuff too. I Googled him to try to find an email address so I could ask about these oddities, but there's no easy access to Bill. Even so, his stuff is good enough that it's worth sharing.)

awoke, awaked, awakened. Two common problems are worth noting:
1. Awoken, though much used, is generally considered not standard. Thus this sentence from an Agatha Christie novel (cited by Partridge) is wrong: "I was awoken by that rather flashy young woman." Make it awakened.
2. As a past participle, awaked is preferable to awoke. Thus, "He had awaked at midnight" and not "He had awoke at midnight." But if ever in doubt about the past tense, you will never be wrong if you use awakened." *This is my first point of confusion. Why was no comma placed after the first use of "Thus" but not the second?

barbecue. The only acceptable spelling in serious writing. *I see this spelled wrong everywhere, including the sign down the street at "The Barbeque Store."

bated breath. Not baited. Bated is a cousin of abated and so implies something that is withheld.

between you and I. Always wrong. Make it "between you and me."

biathlon. For the sport in which competitors ski across country and shoot set targets. *I was happy to see this item included. To Bryson's comments I will add: biathlon and triathlon have three syllables, not four. Often I hear "bi-ath-a-lon."

caesar salad. Not capped. *Huh? Why? This was a surprise.

Champagne. Region of France, formally Champagne-Ardenne; the wine is champagne (no cap). *Also a surprise.

Del Toro, Benicio. (1967 -- ) Puerto Rican actor. *I think this is a mistake. Shouldn't it be "Puerto Rican-born American actor"?

disinterested, uninterested. The first means neutral, the second not caring. A disinterested person is one who has no stake in the outcome of an event; an uninterested person is one who doesn't care. *This error is made all the time, as is the misuse of infer/imply.

Eszterhas, Joe. (1944 --) Hungarian-born American screenwriter. *Bill is right on this one.

More coming soon!

Lamoille Meadows

We came across this Clydesdale as we were investigating Lamoille, a small town roughly 20 miles southeast of Elko, Nevada. She watched us a long while but never approached -- thinking we'd put her to work?

Road Trip! (Part 3)

Steve caught these American white pelis diving in unison near Lamoille Canyon; he'd seen this before, I hadn't. I laughed a long time. (First photo shows pelicans gathering in a group; second is source of laughter.)

Road Trip! (Part 2)

... and then there was this female big horn sheep...

Road Trip!

Arrived home after three days in Elko, Nevada, home to cowboys, buckaroos, and gold miners. Met with my contacts, bought a beautiful hand-tooled belt at JM Capriola Co., then drove up to Lamoille Canyon for a quick look-see, which stretched into a 1.5 hour drive, repeated the next day, when Steve snapped this pic of the canyon road. We're at 8,200 feet.

Off to Elko

Heading out to northern Nevada to research the new novel. Fun pics and stories upon my return. (I plan to spend all of my money -- and most of Steve's, too -- at J.M. Capriola. Check out their library.)

More soon!

Bill Bryson's Thunderbolt Kid

My friend, Kathy Getto (Beaded Bungee Bookmark-maker extraordinaire), sent an email a few weeks ago saying she'd just finished a hilarious book, Bill Bryson's THE LIFE AND TIMES OF THE THUNDERBOLT KID. I love hilarity, so I requested it from my library and it arrived a few days later. The memoir focuses on Bill's life as a youngster growing up in Iowa, and concentrates on his memories from roughly six to 14. I too just finished it, and my cheeks are still deliciously sore from laughing. Here is an excerpt:

"...If we had a guest from beyond the usual family circle somebody would always bring out the dribble glass and offer the guest a drink. The dribble glass was the funniest thing I had ever seen. It was a fancy-looking, many-faceted drinking glass -- exactly the sort of glass that you would give to an honored guest -- that appeared to be perfectly normal, and indeed was perfectly normal, so long as you didn't tilt it. But cut into the facets were tiny, undetectable slits, ingeniously angled so that each time the glass was inclined to the mouth a good portion of the contents dribbled out in a steady run onto the victim's chest.

There was something indescribably joyous about watching an innocent, unaware person repeatedly staining him- or herself with cranberry juice or cherry Kool-Aid (it was always something vividly colored) while twelve people looked on with soberly composed expressions. Eventually, feeling the seepage, the victim would look down and cry, 'Oh, my golly!' and everyone would burst out laughing.'

I never knew a single victim to get angry or dismayed when they discovered the prank. Their best white shirt would be ruined, they would look as if they had been knifed in the chest, and they would laugh till their eyes streamed. God, but Iowans were happy souls."

This book is a keeper. Buy it for anyone born in the '50s or early '60s, or for their parents.

Oh Happy Day!

Yes, you're on the right blog -- Bird in Hand has a new look! In keeping with our happy day, Steve and I want to wish our youngest a warm and wonderful birthday. We love you, Maya.

xoxo Mom and Dad

Three Kits, Part 2

Here is the beaver hut. Scroll down for a photo of a beaver kit, taken last night around 7:15.

Three Kits and a Cannonball

Holy cow. Steve and I hit the beaver pond last night around 6:30 and hung out for a little over an hour. Steve got a couple of shots of the Canada geese pair we saw last weekend, but two of the goslings are missing (there were eight last week; now there are six). We walked over to the second pond, hoping the adult beavers would appear. I was standing near the edge, just above the entrance to a culvert, and happened to glance down. There, looking up at me, was a baby beaver -- a kit in wildlife parlance -- and despite my frantic gestures to Steve (I was trying to get his attention so he could scurry over and snap a pic), the little guy never moved. He just lay on his belly, watching.

To our delight, two more kits appeared. The second one approached through a path in the tules, pausing when he saw me. He didn't seem perturbed, and so I stood, heart pounding, while Steve's camera clicked off a dozen shots. That second little guy apparently needed a snack, because he began nibbling a reed.

All of a sudden there was a ka-boom in the middle of the pond, followed by a significant splash. My immediate thought was that someone had tossed in a ten-pound rock, and then it happened again. Steve hollered, "It's the adult -- she's slapping her tail on the water to warm them!" It was a sign the kits had come too close and were in danger. She wanted them out of there.

Just like that, they were gone. In the end, we decided there were three kits and one adult. We guessed the second adult was in the hut, or possibly foraging for food. But Steve got two great shots, which I wanted to share. This one is of the kit eating a cattail; the second (part 2, above) is of the hut.

Conversation with Jena Thompson

Check out the Conversation with Jena Thompson by Todd Dwyer on regeneration.org -- "a group of people committed to sustaining the world's natural environment." Jena discusses The Conservation Fund's Go Zero program, and how offsets can really make a difference.

Bye-Bye Birdie

Even from a distance, I knew it was gonna be sad. I spotted the black and white form in the gutter from perhaps 20 yards away, and thought at first it was a dead magpie, its left wing fluttering with each passing car. It wasn't until I actually wandered onto the asphalt to check it out that I realized it was a male mallard, identified by its emerald head and orange legs, a white ring circling its neck.

About a week ago, I saw a mallard standing alongside the road in a different location, near a creek where I'd often seen a male swimming with its mate. I'd worried about this pair, as they'd acclimated to the comings and goings of trail visitors, and were feeding too closely to the edge (meaning they were within grabbing distance, not that anyone would necessarily want to grab a duck, but you never know). At any rate, I mentioned to Steve that I was worried about that duck getting hit, so to find a dead duck in the gutter today was disconcerting.

I hope it wasn't "my" guy. I don't want that little female to be alone.

Two Baby Hummingbirds Sittin' In A Tree

Yesterday evening, Steve and I rode our bikes to the pond behind one of our local business parks to check out the beaver hut. We saw the two adults we knew were there -- one schlepping a willow branch back to the den -- the other skimming the edges of the pond, generally checking things out. No kits, though, which was a little disappointing. There was a pair of Canada geese, however, with eight goslings (or geeslings, as Oprah calls them), as well as a Mallard pair with two fuzzy ducklings.

Just as we were preparing to leave, the Canada geese swam over to the beaver hut and climbed atop it, the youngsters trailing behind. Steve said he thought they'd roost there, and seeing them settle in was a perfect cap to the evening. I wish we'd brought the camera.

Meanwhile, my neighbor, Laura VanCouvering, took this photo of a hummingbird nest, two tubby babies tucked inside. The nest is in a camillia in the yard of a friend in El Dorado Hills, and was taken in late March. Babies here are a little over two weeks old.