Eats, Shoots & Leaves

For some reason I have a knack for remembering the oddities of English grammar.

My intent today is not to regale you with examples of all those grammarian law-breakers out there. Surely a website is dedicated to such a topic. I am simply annoyed that one of my favorite commercials has been edited:



I love how as soon as their name leaves his mouth he realizes that he doesn't know how to pluralize it. Even I, the resident grammarian, have trouble with pluralizing last names that end in s or z.

Here is an excerpt from one of my favorite websites:

"When a family name (a proper noun) is pluralized, we almost always simply add an "s." So we go to visit the Smiths, the Kennedys, the Grays, etc.When a family name ends in s, x, ch, sh, or z, however, we form the plural by added -es, as in the Marches, the Joneses, the Maddoxes, the Bushes, the Rodriguezes. Do not form a family name plural by using an apostrophe; that device is reserved for creating possessive forms.

When a proper noun ends in an "s" with a hard "z" sound, we don't add any ending to form the plural: "The Chambers are coming to dinner" (not the Chamberses); "The Hodges used to live here" (not the Hodgeses). There are exceptions even to this: we say "The Joneses are coming over," and we'd probably write "The Stevenses are coming, too." A modest proposal: women whose last names end in "s" (pronounced "z") should marry and take the names of men whose last names do not end with that sound, and eventually this problem will disappear."

See? Clear as mud.

Sadly, Orbitz has since dropped the pluralizing gag in deference to those misunderstanding the joke. It is not making fun of the name, only the pluralization of names with similar endings. It would have worked just as well if they were the Joneses.

Sigh.

The Parable of the Cinnabon

Years ago, when Teresa and I were first married, I found a Cinnabon copy recipe on the internet. It's been our tradition that I make a batch for Thanksgiving and Christmas mornings. We spend the rest of the year pining for the buttery, sugary goodness.

When Elliott was still at home, I would be annoyed that he always wanted the coveted middle cinnamon rolls. As the rolls are arranged three by four in the pan you would only have two of the middle rolls. At the time I thought it a bit pretentious for a teenager to think himself entitled to the middle roll. I mean, who the hell did he think he was? So I started placing the smallest rolls in this place and the largest ones at the corners. I also made sure the outside rolls got the most icing and the corner rolls the most of all.

But not this year.

As I cut the rolls to length this Christmas, I ended up having an especially fat and plump one. I found myself placing the big roll in one of the middle spots and wishing Elliott could have it. He's earned it.

Elliott has gone out into the world and become a man. He will always have a middle roll waiting for him in my home.