House of drexin

Yep. We're drexin. I don't know if this is the correct spelling of the word, or if it is another of my maternal family's lexicon of "unreal words," but there it is. Drexin. As in N and I are drexin around the house because some nasty virus has decided to use us as hosts.

Mine began Sunday night, and while I'm not feeling good or even great, I'm getting REAL sick of being sickly, so that is a sign of recovery. N, on the other hand, is just starting her foray into this illness tempest, so I've written off the whole week for us both. My to do list says: Keep the sleeper sofa pulled out, Noggin on all day, wear the same clothes until at least Saturday.

So thinking of "drexin" makes me think of all the other funny phrases or words that I know from my mother (and her side of the tree).

Some other words for looking sickly....puny, peaked, punky. Feeling punky. I still use this one, except I just call N that sometimes. "Hey punky, how are you today?" I guess somehow this lingo morphed with my childhood fascination with Soleil Moon Frye's child stardom.

Then there is Blind Fish, which is French toast. When I was a kid, my parents were having some friends in from New Jersey with whom my dad had been in the service. M had long poked fun of mom for calling French toast "blind fish." Fortunately, just prior to their visit, I got the opportunity to go fishing at the lake with a friend. I can't remember who got the privilege of popping out that fish's eyeballs, but you know M's eyes were wide open when he saw it sitting on his plate the first morning of his visit.

Another is Crime in Italy, which I think is supposed to be Criminy? My mother would get disgusted or flabbergasted about something and say this.

Oh yes, and Crouch as in crotch. When I was in college I worked for a man named Mr. Crouch, and I remember thinking, "What an awful name!" Finally, upon stating to my best friend K that I hate it when jeans ride up in my crouch, she informed me that I was mispronouncing it.

I suppose my ability to mangle or misappropriate the English language is a skill passed down from the generations before me. I know books have been written about mis-singing song lyrics, but I am especially proud of botching U2's "Bullet the Blue Sky." Bono actually says, "Driving nails into the souls on the tree of pain." Na-uh Bono, me lad. The nails were being driven into the souls of the "chia pet." D, who loves U2 nearly as much as he loves me, almost didn't forgive me for that one.