...isms

Recently, in a business meeting, we were having a discussion about a certain term and whether or not it needed to be capitalized as far as grammatical correctness and marketing strategy were concerned. After about 10 minutes of discussion, the group turned to me to ask my opinion. The majority of the group was pulling for the capitalization of this term, and I was indifferent, so I said, "let's just capitalize it and call it macaroni."

The room fell silent, and the marketing manager looked at me with a puzzled look, so I awkwardly sang "stuck a feather in his hat..." and she joined in, "called it macaroni."

How embarrassing!

I had said something that, to me, clearly meant "and be done with it," but it required explanation to others. And this is when I realized that I had just spouted a Calderwoodism--that is, a term that makes perfect sense to me because it is used so frequently in my family, but out of context is strikingly weird. I began to wonder how often I say things like this, and rather than ask what I mean, people just conclude that I am weird.

I grew up in a family that is full of isms. My family is one where "let's git to git'n" means let's begin whatever we are about to begin, or leave to go wherever we are going; it's one where, whenever we have a casserole, or something that might slightly resemble a casserole for dinner, you can expect that someone will burst forth in song with "casserole-serole" (as in "que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be...); it's one where anything particularly delicious is "The San Francisco Treat" (of rice-a-roni fame); and one where, "because one leg's both the same," is an acceptable answer to any question that you either don't want to answer or don't know the answer to (I can't even begin to explain that one).

But perhaps the ism that fully turned me on to the weirdness of our isms is one that my dad used all through my childhood. I didn't understand this ism until I was about 16, so it was pretty hilarious when I figured it out. At the risk of embarrassing my dad and exposing my naivety, I'll tell you the story.

I was driving with my dad one day, and casually used one of our isms in conversation. I said, "Oh, rat sphincters." My dad started laughing and asked me if I knew what it meant. You see, he had changed an ages old saying "rat finks" into the crude version, "rat sphincters." I had assumed that what I was saying held the traditional meaning. But, no. Though our ism had become common to me, it was actually uncouth. He explained the actual meaning to me, and needless to say, I was mortified. We laughed until we cried that day.

I wondered how many times I had said that to someone outside my family, and they thought I was some foul-mouthed child. Had I ever said it in front of a teacher, or my church leaders?

Now, if I know I'm saying something that is pushing boundaries, I'm usually not embarrassed. Take, for example, a Spanish saying that we adopted on a trip to South America. The word for "thank you" in Spanish is "de nada." We changed it slightly to "de nalgas" which, loosely translated means "of the butt cheeks." I still laugh when I think about that, but again, I did that intentionally. The rat sphincter thing was a whole different story!

Sitting in the conference room at my recent meeting, I once again felt embarrassed about my slip into Calderwoodisms. Of course "calling it macaroni" is less embarrassing than saying "rat sphincter," but in both cases, I had revealed something about my family and our own special language.

This is not to say that I am embarrassed about our isms. I guess the discomfort comes from trying to explain the origin of an ism to an outsider. There are 3 decades worth of Calderwoodisms that have developed since my parents met, and they are what makes our family so unique. To allow an outsider to see or hear those special things and judge us for them just feels weird.

In fact, sometimes I even feel embarrassed when I use a Calderwoodism in front of my husband. Even though he knows me and he knows my family, he doesn't know what 22 years in my family is like, and therefore is still still somewhat of an outsider. When he doesn't understand why it is funny to say "because one leg's both the same" I feel offended, like my upbringing has been attacked.

But when I start to feel this way, I realize that he and I already have some Nielsonisms, and I would feel similarly embarrassed if my parents or siblings heard them and judged us.

And so, after some embarrassing moments with Calderwoodisms and some hilarious moments with Calderwoodisms, I have come to this conclusion: the beauty of a family-ism is that it unites you against all others, whether you git to git'n or have a delicious casserole-serole. So, with that, I'll call it macaroni.

Meet the Nielsons Part 1: The Early Days

Well, we decided it's time to resurrect this flop of a blog and finally get it off the ground. I thought it would be fitting to "restart" the blog by posting what looks like a first-ever entry. So, friends, family, loved ones, and blalkers (that's blog stalkers), here is a little glimpse into our history--the exciting couple behind jonathanandquinn. blogspot.com. 

Jonathan and I met on October 27, 2006. We both attended our ward campout, and part way through the night I noticed a cute guy hanging around me and my roommates (not in a creepy way or anything, he just didn't formally introduce himself). We started chatting during a lively game of Catch Phrase and found each other mutually delightful. We somehow started a competition to see who could slide the furthest down a snow-covered hill, which evolved into a game of sliding down the hill with our arms around each other's waists to see if it would make us go further (aka to have an excuse to semi-embrace just 2 hours after meeting.) To make a long story short, we flirted all night but I ended up going home around 2:00 a.m. because I had a bad cold (which Jonathan doesn't believe--I was so charming, how could I have been sick?)

That Sunday, I was even more dazzled by Jonathan when I saw him in a suit, and he was likewise dazzled by me (I put a lot of effort into my hair that day). We flirted between classes (something about a snowboarding ghost...) but it was all sort of inconsequential. But that night at ward prayer came the turning point--Jonathan ignored me, and I wasn't going to stand for it. So, with some urging by my roommates (thank you Allison, I hold you personally responsible for my happy marriage) we fabricated a party and I went to Jonathan's apartment to invite him to come. 

Me: Hey, like, what are you and your roommates up to tonight?  (internal monologue: who cares what your roommates are doing?)

Jonathan: (leaning "nonchalantly" on his TV in his pajamas at 9:00 p.m) I mean I don't know what my roommates are doing but, like, what's going on or whatever? 

Me: I mean, you know, we're having some people over to watch the office tonight, and like, thought you might want to come (internal monologue: I've never watched the office in my life)

Jonathan: (Suddenly aware that he is in his pajamas) Oh yeah, you know, that sounds fun. What time or whatever? 

Me: I don't know, like maybe 20 or 30 minutes or something. (Internal monologue: Oh geez, he said yes. I need to get home and invite some people over!!)

Jonathan: Ok, awesome. See you in like 20 minutes, or whatever. (He arrived like 21 minutes later). 

So my roommates and I all got on our phones and called EVERYONE we could think of so it wasn't just us when Jonathan arrived. We ended up with this strange, mismatched group of friends that didn't know each other--but at least it somewhat resembled a party. Well, when he arrived, I sat down in a one person chair and he sat on the couch. My roommates realized that that arrangement simply wasn't going to do, so they initiated what can only be called "the roommate shuffle." Everyone got up, someone needed my "help" in the kitchen, and by the time we all sat back down again, there was only one seat left--the one next to Jonathan (I wasn't sad about it). 

 

The next night was our ward Halloween party that I happened to be hosting as an FHE mom. The flirting continued throughout the night, and even though he voted 

against my Halloween costume to win the contest (it was awesome by the way), I let him help me carry my stuff back upstairs. We talked for hours that night about everything and nothing, and finally decided that we should go to devotional the next morning to see President Hinckley. Obviously Jonathan had to get my number, for logistical reasons (wink), and I was more than happy to oblige. 

We enjoyed devotional together and a walk back to our apartments, but he sill hadn't asked me on a date. Well, he redeemed himself later by asking me out for that night (although it was via text message). I had an enormous exam in one of my classes, so I had mentioned that I couldn't stay out too long. Well, so much for that plan. We went to dinner (where I ordered a salad which apparently indicated my disinterest in him), but also ended up going to a movie. We held hands that night and shared a brief, but awkward doorstep hug at the conclusion of our date. 

By this time, I had him mesmerized. He obviously needed to see me again the next night, even if it meant watching me study after completing approximately 7 minutes of his own homework. We walked home, had some hot chocolate, and went back to his apartment to talk some more (ok, I was a little mesmerized too). This was the night, yes our 2nd date, of our first kiss. I think we both knew by this point, whether we admitted it or not, that we were done for. 

We spent the rest of the fall spending as much time as possible together. We like to say that we have seen each other every day since we met, except when we are in different states. Right before Christmas break, we said our first "I love you." 

Well, the rest is pretty much history. But to conclude, here is a mini photo-journey through the early days of our time together.