R-E-S-P-E-C-T
Making the Grade
Plus, who will take care of the dogs?
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Effete
Effete (adjective)
Pronunciation: [ê-‘feet]
Definition: Depleted, exhausted, lacking strength, vitality or efficacy; effeminate; infertile.
Usage: Perhaps the most famous usage of this word in the US was former vice president Spiro Agnew’s depiction of the student anti-war protesters of the 60s as “effete intellectual snobs.” The phrase is still floating around. The adjective has an adverb, “effetely,” and a noun, “effeteness.”
Suggested Usage: When revolutionaries asked Russian Tsar Nicholas II to abandon the throne in 1917, his regime had become so effete that he did so without resistance. However, don’t be afraid of using this word around the house: “Wimpy has become so effete that the dog doesn’t even respond to his command any more.”
Etymology: From Latin effetus “worn out, exhausted” consisting of ex- “out of” + fetus “filled with young, pregnant.” The PIE root of “fetus” was *dhe-, which, suffixed with -t gave us not only “fetus,” but also “fawn.” The latter came down from Old French feon “young animal,” a reduction of Vulgar Latin *feton-, a form of Latin “fetus,” which ultimately came to mean “offspring.” Suffixed with –m and -n, it developed into “feminine,” the French reflex of Latin femina “woman.” With the suffixes –l and –k, the same root turns up in “felicity” taken from Latin felix (felic-s) “fruitful, lucky, happy.”
Notice how the latin root of fetus means “pregnant” or “filled with young”? It later took on the meaning of offspring. But the original meaning implied that to be pregnant meant exhaustion.
I woke up this morning full of energy after having terrible dreams all night. I dreamed that I was invited to a girls’ sleepover as the chaperone (am I feeling old or what?!). Before we get there though we have to stop in this snow filled parking lot, where, long story short, a tree falls over and crushes my car. Then the icicles begin to form around us in a circle, but they have been electrified by the fallen tree on the electricity wires. I have a baby with me. It is Bronwyn but she is a newborn. As I see all the other girls being electrocuted as the massive monster icicles fall on them, I decide to suffocate Bronwyn with her swaddling blanket before she too is killed by electrocution. Somehow I am the last person huddled in the middle of the rapidly decreasing circle, and everything stops. I look up, and the sun is out and has melted all of the ice. I look down at the baby still cradled in my arms and she is pink and sleeping. I haven’t killed her after all.
I am not sure what this means. There was more to the dream after that, but I don’t remember it. It didn’t follow with the previous sequence either. Am I so exhausted with the uncertainty of childbirth and the imminence of Christmas and the never-ending state of uncleanliness which is my house that had to dream that I was going to die? And where was Bruce? And why wasn’t I pregnant?
I woke up from that dream at 5am to use the bathroom, and proceeded to have mild contractions for the next 3 hours while dreaming that I was in labour. I had to ask Bruce in the morning if I had woken him up in the middle of the night to go to the hospital. It was very real, but obviously we were still in bed come alarm clock ringing time.
But, like I was saying, I had so much energy this morning that I decided to clean Bronwyn’s room from top to bottom. I succeeded, and even managed to vacuum by placing her in her crib with some toys and books while I sucked up dirt around, beside, and underneath her. This worked so well, that I vacuumed my whole top floor. This of course necessitated moving stuff out of the way to vacuum underneath it. Note I did not say put away. The stuff on the floor that I am referring to is Bruce’s hunting gear that has yet to be unpacked or even removed from the hallway where it was dumped over a week ago. I don’t really mind that it is there. It isn’t exactly in my way, and my portion of the house is certainly not so clean as to justify any complaints on my part. However, I draw the line at putting away anything that he used that I didn’t a) pack b) use c) condone the purchase of. After I succeeded in cleaning the living room, kitchen, hallway, Bronwyn’s room and most of the bathroom, I was in quite the groove. This is where I started to get greedy I think. With dirty diapers in my pail, I lugged both my 20 lbs daughter and my 30 lbs pail to the basement where I started the arduous process of bending, stooping and lifting that is LAUNDRY in my home. Boy do I miss my front load, stackable washer and dryer combo!! Anyway, after the shuttling of wet, dirty and dry clothing to their respective locations was accomplished, I looked around and thought, “I should vacuum and dust in here too”. Greedy. I lugged out the hose again and tried in vain to get enough suction to make any headway at all. It occurred to me that the bag was probably full, but this is where the effeteness kicked in. Besides the central vac is well over my head, and even I know that this could only end in disaster! I could hear Bronwyn expressing her extreme dislike at being cooped up in the stairwell while I operated a loud, scary machine. I couldn’t let her roam the basement in case she tried to touch the woodstove, and I couldn’t attempt to keep her upstairs while I was downstairs because the level of crying that would effect would be beyond my capabilities to cope with at this point. So, I let her play on the stairs. I finally gave up after Brownyn threw my little Mexican figurine down the stairs, narrowly missing my head and shattering on the wooden steps.
Needless to say, after lunch was given the same treatment, Bronwyn went down for an early nap, safely ensconced and barricaded in her dirt and dust free room.
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