This, that, and the other

A hodgepodge on my mind tonight, but I have to begin with the delicious dinner we just had.  I bought some really good salmon yesterday but, after cooking all week, I was relieved when Christian said he would cook. I gave him the recipe I wanted to try—a molasses/soy marinade. I volunteered to sauté some asparagus and sugar snap peas.

Christian: I’m not much on sugar snap peas.

Me: Have you ever eaten them?

Christian: Yes. And how will you cook the asparagus? I like mine crisp.

Tactfully said, but I told him he should have more faith in me than to think I would overcook the asparagus. As it was, I sautéed asparagus pieces and snap peas in olive oil with a generous splash of soy. Cooked them just enough to get warm, and he liked them. But the salmon was the pièce de résistance—grilled just right so that it was still soft and moist and topped with toasted sesame seeds. Christian was rightly proud of having done the sesame seeds. I always have to do two batches, because I burn the first batch. The molasses marinade gave it an extraordinarily rich flavor.

I was editing our neighborhood newsletter tonight and came across a sentence where the writer said we would utilize something. Struck a nerve. My red pen came out, and I changed utilize to use. It reminded me of a passage I read recently in an online newsletter, stressing the use of the most straightforward words. Using fancier words simply makes you look pretentious. So here are a few suggestions, beyond use for utilize:

For commence, simply say begin;

For launch, say open;

For myriad, say many;

For prior to, say before.

You get the idea—write as you would talk.

I’ve written before about how kind people are when you have a walker, but I found a passage in a short story collection that states it perfectly. The collected short stories, An Elderly Woman Up to No Good by Swedish author Helen Tursten, feature octogenarian Maud whose sins range from kleptomania to murder, mostly the latter which she meticulously plans when people annoy her. It’s a darkly humorous adventure in reading, and I almost read it in one sitting. One feature is that Maud hides her strong body and active mind behind the façade of a frail, slightly dotty old woman. One of her tricks is to use a walker—which she also employs as a murder weapon when the occasion arises.

But here’s the narrator’s description of Maud’s use of the walker: it provided useful support, she could sit on it and have a rest, she was suddenly offered a seat on the bus, people held the door open for her when she went into the stores, and middle-aged female shop assistants started treating her politely and . . . well, they really were quite sweet to her. The walker was a brilliant acquisition.

I think I shall practice the frail old lady part on occasion—just not the murder part.

But excuse me now, Jacob wants to watch the eclipse, and I’ll join him.