Mkeangu ni moto kidogo

Today’s word is kidogo. Kidogo is a Swahili word that means “little”. RVA lingo incorporated a lot of Swahili, which is somewhat inevitable, seeing as we were quite literally surrounded by a Swahili speaking population. It doesn’t need much explanation or have a funny background, so here is an unrelated blog with the word kidogo thrown in for fun.

Last night I was determined to get enough sleep, so I somehow managed to make it to bed by 9:30. Today I am only kidogo tired. I’m not completely rested, but I am at least 50% better than yesterday. We’ll see how I do after lunch. I am terrible right after lunch. I start to nod off, then I look at my computer screen and see it is covered in e’s. So far no one has noticed me getting drowsy, or at least they have not mentioned it to me. It is kind of scary to think that I may have been caught snoozing. I hate being tired when I’m at work. What fills me with absolute frog-mouse terror is the idea of having a baby. I have no idea how I will survive when we have to wake up every 2 hours to feed a kidogo baby.

It will be interesting to see how we deal with children. You might think that since the woman has the necessary apparatus for baby feeding, I might be able to sleep the night away and let Jen deal with it by herself. However, I believe that I am the lighter sleeper. I’m not entirely sure how sound of a sleeper Jen is, so it’s possible she won’t even wake up in the middle of the night. I’ve heard of men who helped the baby to… “find its food” in the middle of the night, either to give their wives a chance to continue sleeping or possibly because they couldn’t manage to wake her up. We’ll have to see what we end up doing.

Whew… I made it though that without calling out any of those unmentionable womanly body parts by name. Good job Matt… You are now kidogo ready for… something that will probably happen which will require you to be at least partially ready when the time comes for you to do the thing that was aforementioned in this sentence structure, which is no longer the kidogo sentence I/you intended to write when we set out at the beginning of this paragraph, but at least I got to use my word twice in a single sentence.

The shrub that will live in infamy

Today I will tell you about the sudden evolution of one of the words in our RVA dialect. The word is “conch”. What is a conch in normal English you may ask? A conch (pronounced “konk”) is “any of various large spiral-shelled marine gastropod mollusks”. You can see a picture of one to the top left. You may also be wondering how a word could evolve in a single event, since evolution takes millions of years. Well, let me tell you.

It was a warm and dry afternoon in my 9th grade English class on the momentous day in which the word conch took on a whole new meaning. We were taking turns reading “The Lord of the Flies” out loud this particular day. One of the guys was reading the part where Ralph and Piggy discover the conch shell on the beach. As he was reading he came to the word and knew instinctively that here was a word which he did not know how to pronounce correctly. He did what anyone may have done in his situation, he tried to say it phonetically… “konch”. His mistake was in his lack of confidence. Despite the vast vocabulary known to 9th graders, most of us had no better idea how to pronounce the word. His hesitant tone inspired our teacher to provide the correct pronunciation of the offending word. And thus his shrubbery was brought to the forefront of our awareness.

Something about the situation was absolutely hysterical. It was probably a combination of the funny sounding word, along with the sheepish way in which he tried so erroneously to say it. Our laughter served to cement the event in our memories. Word spread quickly and soon our entire class knew of the shrubbed conch. We very quickly began to use “konch” to describe other difficult words to say. For example: “dang, Belteshazzar is a konch word!”

In not much more time, konch came to mean difficult or hard. We also remembered the correct way to say the word, and so both pronunciations were used. In fact, they were both used so often that we soon forgot which was the correct way to say it.

And so you see, a simple shrub, combined with the right amount of laughter, and provided that the shrubbed word is sufficiently fun to say, could result in the creation of an entirely new word.

Please, please, no more! We will find you a shrubbery.

Due to popular demand, I will update my blog with a new post, Don’t let it go to your head Allison, but yes, you are popular (and a trifle demanding). Also, the picture of a turkey neck at the top of my page was making me a little nauseous. If you really didn’t get my turkey neck story, just ask my wife.

Since some of you (like Allison) really liked to hear about the made up language we had in boarding school, I figured that I would teach you all a new word. One of my favorites was the word “shrub”. In RVA (Rift Valley Academy) lingo, a shrub is a verbal blunder. I have no idea how this word originated, but I can make an educated guess. It is entirely likely that someone was attempting to say a real word, but accidentally said “shrub” instead. It may have gone something like this…

“So, I was giving my girlfriend a back shrub when all of a sudden…”

In our RVA culture, we did not let each other forget our mistakes, particularly if they were funny. It is also entirely possible that the word originated when someone was trying to tell a story while walking back to the dorms (a very dangerous combination, I’m sure you all know). While all of his concentration was on telling the story instead of walking, he may have tripped on a low lying shrubbery, thus interrupting his story and causing him to cry out “shrub!”

A good example of a real life shrubbing was when our class president was talking to us all one night. He was discussing plans for an upcoming goat roast when he mistakenly said “ghost roat”. Everyone laughed uproariously at this, of course. About 70% of the men in the room called out “shrub!” at this point, just in case he may have not noticed his verbal blunder. Up until graduation, and even after we would constantly remind him “…ghost roat, that was a great shrub man”.

A good shrub was very rarely forgotten, and as I may tell you next time, shrubbing could easily lead to the creation of a new word. Until next time, Cherry Mristmas, and may all your shrubings be gay.

A True Story About a Turkey Neck

For those of you that I made hungry with my last post, here is an image and story to quell your appetite.

This past Thanksgiving, a family was cooking their meal. They were boiling the turkey neck in a pot, which apparently causes it to shrivel up a lot. A young boy (6 years old) walked into the kitchen and noticed an unpleasant smell (turkey necks also smell bad). His father lifted him up to see inside of the pot causing the smell. Noticing the shriveled neck he clinically noted “that looks like the sack under old one eye”… True story.

I'm famous!

Yes, I am now a famous person. My picture for “Roasted Duck” is now the main image being displayed for the recipe on allrecipes.com You can see my highly popular image at http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Roasted-Duck/Detail.aspx. Of course, there was no previous image for this recipe, and they would probably take any picture that was not of my cats, but I still feel quite professional. I have arrived at the prestigious pinnacle of online recipe photoing (I know, I was surprised that it’s a word also!).

One of these days I’m going to have to post one of my other recipes to the site so that I can begin climbing that other illusive ladder. I should try out my biscuits and gravy on some of you, and then when I post it you can all give it rave reviews. I’ll feel extremely loved and appreciated (ask Jen, I need tons of that stuff) and others will be able to share in the wonders of biscuits delicately topped (and by delicately I mean you’ll have to go spelunking to find your biscuit) with rich and creamy sausage gravy. Mmmm anyone else starving? I’ll just munch on toast and whole grain breakfast bars while I wait for lunch… which is way too far away.

Thanksgiving Dinner- Followup

Thanksgiving dinner went very well. I tried a couple brand new recipes, and they went over very well. My big experiment was a roasted duck. It turned out looking very nice, but I didn’t realize how little meat was on a duck. The taste was good as well, but I don’t think I’ll be cooking duck again. It was just too much work for not enough meat.

I also tried a new apple, cranberry, sausage stuffing. Everyone said that it was the best stuffing that they had ever had. I remember having it once before, but I’m not sure where. Possibly it was at an Xpedition event. Anyway, it was really good and I’m sure that I’ll be making it again soon.

Thanksgiving Meals

I’ll be cooking a big thanksgiving meal this year. I’ve cooked almost all of the individual things before, but trying to do them all at once may be a little more daunting. I’ve learned that a 20lb turkey does not like to de-thaw in a day, which is one of those life lessons that I don’t know how I missed up to this point.

I love trying new foods, and at a Thanksgiving meal, I love covering all of them in gravy (although it can result in me getting some strange looks). I made gravy for the Xpedition potluck, but I didn’t have much of it. It seemed ok to me, so I’ll have to see if I can do at least that well or better this time. I was a little confused by the “4 cups of chicken stock”, because I didn’t know what chicken stock was. I was 90% sure that it is just the juice left over from cooking the turkey, but then I got nervous when it looked like there was a lot of fat in the leftover juice. I ended up trying to skim off the fatting looking stuff, and later decided that maybe it wasn’t fat. I’m hoping that Jen’s Mom can clarify the finer points of turkey gravy making, although, if any of you happen to have input, please let me know. I found some really good guides on how to make the gravy online that assumed you knew next to nothing. Sadly, they underestimated my vast lack of knowledge on turkey terminology. Apparently they didn’t read my blog very often.

One of my favorite meals to make around the holidays is biscuits and gravy. My Mom honed the recipe over the years, and I have inherited it. I think that one of the things I like best about the meal is that no one looks at me strangely for absolutely covering my plate in gravy. It can’t be that bad for you, because it’s mostly milk and flour, and those things are very good for us, right? It even has onions (although I could leave them out or use powdered for you Dustin). If anyone really likes biscuits and gravy, let me know and we’ll have to do a breakfast/brunch of it. We should probably do waffles as well, because Jen doesn’t go for gravy (I think that Jen is more inclined to treat syrup like I treat gravy, although not as badly).

No wonder we put on so much weight over the holidays. I’ll have to eat salads the week surrounding Thanksgiving. Does anyone else have a favorite meal they like to make?

Hmm… This breakfast/brunch thing might go well with Ali and Abe’s Nintendo Wii party, or something like that. I really wish someone had named the new Nintendo something over than a Wii. Seriously, quit playing with your Wii, and make sure you wash your hands when you are done.

Puzzle pieces

Has anyone else ever struggled with feeling like they fit? It’s like a baby struggling with one of those shape puzzles, struggling in vain to make the sphere fit in the box hole. It sucks, doesn’t it? I feel like I have spent most of my life not fitting. Growing up in Africa, I never got along well with the native kids. I lacked similar interests, and I was just old enough to know the culture that I came from and how different it was from the one I found myself in. Boarding school and college were improvements (a few of those friends are still my closest friends), but they were still not quite enough.

My Minnesotan friends, and of course my wife, have made me feel like the puzzle finally makes sense. I’m sure that God has a lot to do with it, but it is fun that he used all of you to bring it into place. I feel at such peace with who I am in Christ, and with the situation I am in now. I’m still not complacent though. I know that I am not fully the man God has made me to be (and will never be), but I’m excited to keep growing.

I’m sure that there are people I know who feel like they don’t fit right now. I wish so much that I could help all of them, but I don’t even know who they are, or what I can really do to help. I pray that as I follow Christ, he can use me to be one of those people who helps others feel like they finally fit.

Cars...

Thank you God for gracious friends. Dustin drove up to the auto shop with me last night so that I could drop off my car, and he is probably going to drive up there again with me this evening. Even though he wouldn’t have worried about his car stalling once, he was understanding that Jen and I tend toward the cautious side and wanted to have the car checked out. What a stellar guy.

Now we may be forced to go shopping for a new car. This is a very painful process for me because I hate spending tons of money on used stuff. In general, the less you spend up front, the more you spend in the end, which is always frusterating. I do like looking at cars though, and I like thinking through the pros and cons of each vehicle. I’ve been able to narrow down my ideal next car quite a bit, so now I just have to try to find one of them for a decent price.

I really like the Subaru Outback and the Toyota Matrix. The Matrix seems excessively overpriced for what it is, and the Outback is not far behind it. My brother, the mechanic (yeah, the vagrant one), speaks very highly of Subaru, and he also likes Toyota. Those will probably be some of my first picks, if I can find them. Otherwise, I’ll be looking for a Volkswagen of some sort. After that, anything in our price range is fair game.

What is your ideal car? How do you decide which ones make the cut, and which do not?

Update @ 11AM – The car place called me to say that the diagnosis was fairly simple, and the repair was not too much. So my new car plans are probably on the backburner again. Just where I like them.

Anonymous posting

Alright, I’ve absolutely had it with anonymous postings! All one of you have driven me insane! I mean, you come along, taking pride in the fact that no-one knows who you are, dropping little tidbits of knowledge that just leave us burning with curiosity as to who you are. You probably don’t even know what you are inadvertently calling yourself, Mr. Anonymous. Well, allow me to enlighten you.

The word “anonymous” comes from the Middle English words “noughti” and “mus”, which mean respectively naughty and mouse. So, the meaning of the word is “a naughty mouse”. That is precisely what you are, Mr. Anonymouse, a naughty little mouse leaving crumbs behind you.

Well, you left one too many crumbs this time, and I know who you are. Seeing as my brother Jon is almost never up as early as you posted, and given your intimate knowledge of bogging, I am left with no other possible conclusion but that you are my vagrant brother Nate.

Hey Nate, remember the time when we put Jon in the hole… that was great. Hehe… good memories. What was I upset about again?....

Matt's blogging....hehe

I’ve decided to begin imparting some of my deepest inner thoughts to a website, and wow are they deep. Somehow I doubt that I will keep this up for more than… oh a week or so, but time will tell.

Everyone else seems to have a blog, so I am giving in to peer pressure, which any intelligent person should do. Seriously, if everyone else is jumping off of a bridge, they must see something coming that I don’t. The only logical way for me to proceed (being the logical person that I am) is to jump first, and ask questions later. Hesitation could be the difference between life and death.

There is a significant framework that should be established before anyone reads much more. Most of you know that I grew up in Africa and went to a boarding school in Kenya. This fact significantly colors my perceptions of reality on many issues. One of those perceptions that is perhaps more important than any other requires a bit of background to be established.

In our boarding school, a lingo evolved over time. Imagine hundreds of kids all confined to a campus for 3 months at a time with no television or other technological forms of entertainment. We did everything imaginable to entertain ourselves. One of our favorite pastimes was to invent words for our particular dialect, or to find new meanings for existing words. Consequently, to this day I have moments when I have to stop and think if what I’m about to say makes any sense in American English. One of our words that took on new meaning was “bog”. To us, a bog was a turd, and bogging was… well pooping.

The reason that this is so terribly important is that the word “blog” is just too close to bog, and blogging is of course too much like bogging. When you think you detect a snicker (like a giggle, not a snickers, because that would be gross) in my postings, well, it’s probably because I just thought about how I am blogging and the connotation immediately leapt to my mind of what I have heretofore mentioned.

Now that you are all thoroughly informed (and possibly slightly disturbed), you are armed with everything you need to read whatever I chance to say.