Temp-er, Temp-er, Temp-er!

Okay, I realize I’ve offered spelling advice that says, “Look to the root word when seeking better spelling.” But I have also suggested that you can ignore some advice that was absorbed as “rule”. And temp is one of them. This scruffy little root word has a variety of meanings. My dictionary (American Heritage, 4th Edition) lists more than two dozen words beginning with “t-e-m-p…” and a variety of meanings running from temper to temporary.

The etymology of this root is fascinating, but I won’t bore you with it. Know that t-e-m-p has been mished and mashed and put through a wringer over the centuries in order to produce quite a variety of uses in U.S.-English.

Most of the temp words refer to a root meaning of “time” or “mix” or “mingle”. Go figure! Here are a few of the differences:

A plain old temp can be that outsider who comes into your office “temporarily” to work on the books in your department.

A temper is “the tantrum” you throw when you weren’t asked to help.

That was when you were asked to temper your temper, “to moderate” it.

Temperament or temperamentally is “the way you handle” that temper.

Temperance goes further and asks you to knock it off completely, to “restrain” yourself.

When the office temperature rises, sometimes tempers also “get hot”.

Not wanting a tempest of “violent behavior of tornado proportions” to upset the office, your HR psychologist would likely suggest you temper your temper and avoid a tempest in a teapot with a well-tempered clavichord, with “tempered” music!

Remaining on an artsy level, tempera is a “mingling” of colors.

The temple in the Temple of Doom, on the other hand, draws meaning from sacred ground that was “divided” or “separated” (ironically meaning un-mixed) from ordinary ground. And from that, surprisingly, comes the meaning for the temple on either side of your eyes, originating from a Greek word meaning “vital spot”, as indicated by the Greek Vale of Tempe located between two important Greek mountains. (Classical Latin refers to that forehead area as the “temporal bone” or “temporal muscle”, protecting the precious vital eyes.)

No, I won’t miss some other t-e-m-p’s: as in Shirley Temple, Tempe AZ, or tempeh, an Indonesian dish made from fermented soybeans. Wonder where these t-e-m-p’s came from…

Ain’t language fun!

Speak, spoke, spoken / Prove, proved, proven. . .

What’s are the differences between the verbs speak, spoke and spoken? Prove, proved, and proven? A whole mountain of difference. And why doesn’t spoke have a spoked?

Prove is the present tense and proved is the past tense of the verb “to prove”. Proven is the participle.

She proves she caught the biggest fish.
However, she proved it too late.
Now she has proven she was right.

Speak is the present tense and spoke is the past tense of the verb “to speak”. Spoken is the participle.

He speaks too loudly after a beer.
She spoke too wildly when she scolded him yesterday.
The two have not spoken since.

The “en” words are participles, which require auxiliary (or helping) verbs.

The world has proved it is warming.
The geologists have spoken.

Now, try to figure out what the heck a participle is! And where can you find one? Perhaps you could get the real skinny in my book, The Anarchist's Guide to Grammar. Or did you know there is a book? I can prove it. Go to Amazon.com and place your order. The author has spoken!

Magifantastical Adjectives

I’m a big fan of Darby Conley, whose characters in his comic strip “Get Fuzzy” mangle the language regularly. He gets his cat to play with words like my daughter’s cat plays with a ball of yarn. When Cat’s owner chastises him, Cat calls him a rude luddite — “a ruddite”. Then adds that his owner is dim and stupid — “dimpid”, as well as ugly and annoying — “ugloying”. Don’t you love it? 

And when one of my writer friends turned out a book that was both magical and fantastic, I had to let her know her work is “magifantastical”. So there! Who says you can’t make up new words.

BTW, a question mark at the end of a sentence usually is asking for an answer. A question with a period at the end is called “rhetorical” because it does not require an answer.

 Ain’t grammar fun!

You Can Lead a Horse, But Not a Grammar Slob

We read about them all the time; I read about one yesterday. “You can lead a horse to water...” and the horse has been led — not “lead”. The past tense of lead (the verb) is “led”. Think of it this way: lead, the present tense verb (pronounced like “feed”) is what you do with a horse. Lead, the noun (pronounced like “bed”) is the heavy metal. Oh, you want a “rule”? Not here! Fool around with the pronunciation of words such as head, heed, mead, dead, speed, wed, weed, keyed, bead, creed, deed... see the problem?