Typos.
And Autocorrect. Gotta love it.
I mean, it’s saved me some embarrassing typos when I’m trying to communicate at ten p.m. with fumbling fingers and too-tired eyes. This isn’t about that.
It’s also created aghast moments where the glasses must be adjusted, fingers must un-fumble, and explanations and back-peddling abound. This isn’t about that, either.
Sometimes I learn new words and meanings that I’m not allowed to use in English here on the blog. Or French in France if I ever get there (though I hear they have amazing cheese and chocolate). I won’t bother you with those….
This is about messages that created laugh-out-loud moments—something in short supply of late. So I will savor it, milk it, and drag you, Dear Reader, along with me.
Days back, I’d spent the better part of several messages whining to my friend in France about stress and needing a nap. And cheese.
Because I didn’t eat my lunch.
France Friend: Nap a’d food sounds like thee right way to go.
First off, I adored the old English.
And my befuddled brain interpreted the other as: Nap. Add food.
Which is entirely applicable and now a one-liner I tell myself twice a day. I say it in the morning after a long night of insomnia to remind myself that I can sleep if the need should arise—and eat. I remind myself again in the afternoon when the hangry happens and the need for food and slumber arises.
Everything is better with sleep and sustenance, usually cheese and chocolate—but not together. Apart.
On a whim, I pause the thought process for this blog to Google “a’d in French.”
Google says it means “announce.”
Now the one-liner becomes Nap. Announce food.
I like that too.
Grab a soft blanket, a semi-willing feline to cuddle, and a book. Drift off into a much-needed restorative slumber. Upon awakening, sit straight up and declare triumphantly, “Hear ye, hear ye! I shall now have cheese and chocolate. But not together. Apart.”
Then fling the blanket, cat, and book to the floor and do exactly as announced.
The other instance came about when planning a day out with Proofreader Gal. I was rattling about how we could do point A first, then point B.
Then this text: Food at some point. So as not to be hanged.
Hangry was the intended word.
Though both meanings work, we’ll stay with “hanged.”
POV 1: Me talking about me. I become so irritated by the lack of cheese and chocolate that my friend hangs me and moves on with her life.
POV 2: Me talking about her. She refuses to go along with the plan to refuel our bodies. I become so irritated that I hang her before commencing my search for cheese and chocolate.
POV 3: Me talking about the both of us. We become collectively hangry, leading to our incarceration where the jailer offers us no cheese or chocolate and carries out a public hanging forthwith. We have no time to use our only phone calls to Uber to bring cheese and/or chocolate to the jail as a last meal.
If Proofreader Gal ends up not being hungry on this day trip, I’ll let her drive home. Then I can nap. Add food.
***
I’m about to wrap up this blog, keeping it short so I can get something else done before I close the laptop, but one of those naggy little itches started in the back of my brain.
To confirm that a’d translation thing, I asked France Friend, thinking she’d be impressed with my new vocabulary.
She says it doesn’t mean anything.
Well… that’s not nearly as interesting, but it does tell me not to rely on Google translate should I ever get to France to partake in European cheese and chocolate.
I send her a screenshot of the translation. She tells me it’s backward. I didn’t even google it right.
And here’s where it gets crazy, and divine providence decides this blog needs to be 500 words longer.
I’m writing this at the library as a fellow author sits across the table from me working on her own WIP. Author Friend is dressed like a real adult, put together, sure of herself, and her side of the table is orderly.
I’m a mess, talking ninety miles an hour. I have a purple backpack and a sticker-laden planner (cats, rabbits, Einstein). I’m wearing a childish-looking t-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops with sloths on them. My other belongings are strung all over the place. Like I live here.
The lady behind us asks Author Friend if she’s conducting adult education classes. The implication being Author Friend is the teacher and I’m the student with my Pigpen essence.
Attempting a straight face and stifling laughter so as not to offend an innocent’s innocent question becomes too complicated, and I have to leave the table.
Here’s the text string as I made my way to the restroom to laugh it out in solitude
Nah, no need to correct it. I like the typo.
Look how you you are.
With the mess and the vibe.
Look how you you are.
With the cat stickers and purple pack and sloth shoes...
It’ll be a Monday when this goes live, Dear Reader, and as a new week starts, embrace how you you are with your morning routine and coffee. With your bacon or your kale smoothie. With your mess or your put-togetherness. With your aspirations and goals. With your emails with or without their attachments in tow. With your typos and back-peddling autocorrects.
With your need for a nap. Add food.
Don’t get hangry—or hanged. Make it chocolate and cheese. Will it be together? Apart? Be you…
Go ahead and announce it. I’m sure France won’t mind.
And use old English if ye want.
