Vest-Pocket Vocabulary
Via’tic, a. relating to travelling.
Word in the Wild: She’d always been powerless to resist the lure of the faraway. First it was leaving the neighbourhood on her own, then it was biking to the next town over, and now it was the viatic call of a investigative journalism. She just couldn’t hold still.
You can find a complete listing of the Word Blog’s Vest-Pocket Vocabulary entries and learn more about where they come from here.
Vest-Pocket Vocabulary
Ubica’tion, n. relation as to place; whereness
Word in the Wild: Ilya often had trouble determining his own ubication, which is why three of his birthday gifts turned out to be compasses. The fourth was a GPS.
This word has wandered over to English from the modern Latin ubicātio, meaning in “a determinate place.” The root ubi means “place, position or location,” and if you add to it a que, making it ubīque, it suddenly means “everywhere,” which is how we get the word ubiquitous.
You can find a complete listing of the Word Blog’s Vest-Pocket Vocabulary entries and learn more about where they come from here.
Vest-Pocket Vocabulary
Threnet’ic, a. complaining; expressing sorrow.
Word in the Wild: Tanis left her office to investigate the threnetic keening coming from the kitchenette. She found Priya desolate—it turned out that her trusty 1987 Nissan had died earlier that morning and now, to top it off, the coffeepot was completely empty. If only Nissans and coffee had been covered by the company’s bereavement leave.
You can find a complete listing of the Word Blog’s Vest-Pocket Vocabulary entries and learn more about where they come from here.
Vest-Pocket Vocabulary
Salsu’ginous, a. a little saltish.
Word in the Wild: I’d really like to recommend that new restaurant on the corner since the owners are so friendly, but everything I’ve eaten there is so salsuginous I just can’t.
The above meaning of salsuginous is obsolete (and even at its height it was generally used to refer to something brackish), but that’s a shame considering how much extra salt is hanging out in food these days. So let’s run amok and start using it as The Vest-Pocket Dictionary suggests—for anything that’s a bit on the saltish side! I’ll start: “Mmm… I sure could go for some delicious salsuginous potato chips about now.”
The OED shows that this word is still, rarely, in use, but only in one particular botanical context: it’s used to describe plants that grow in soil saturated with salt water.
You can find a complete listing of the Word Blog’s Vest-Pocket Vocabulary entries and learn more about where they come from here.
Vest-Pocket Vocabulary
Ram’uli, n. young twigs or shoots.
Word in the Wild: Adrienne thought she’d killed the plant since only dry dirt and withered leaves had occupied the planter for months. But when she came in this morning she saw that over the weekend, quite magically, some hardy ramuli had shot up out of the dessicated soil.
The word ramuli was first documented in English use in 1678 according to the OED, but it comes from Latin and is the plural form of this noun. The singular form is ramulus and means “little branch.” (Ramus = branch and ulus = suffix indicating a diminutive form)
This word has been used almost exclusively in scientific writings referring either to plants or to the tree-like branching of blood vessels in animals. But I’m going to try to use it all the time—I think it rolls off the tongue in a delightful way!
You can find a complete listing of the Word Blog’s Vest-Pocket Vocabulary entries and learn more about where they come from here.
Lexical Vexations
flounder 1. v. to move about with difficulty, often losing one’s footing. 2. n. a fish.
founder 1. v. to sink or succumb. 2. n. one responsible for beginning a venture or organization.
Words in the Wild: The first sign the Lollipop was foundering was the flounder the founder of the International Candy Society found swimming about his ankles. He immediately floundered his way toward the life preservers only to find they’d been replaced with Life Savers®.
Still vexed? You can find a complete list of the Word Blog’s lexical vexations here.
Vest-Pocket Vocabulary
Quod’libet, n. a nice point for discussion.
Word in the Wild: Their discussion came to a standstill after Monique’s shocking confession, and the party goers looked desperately about for someone to save them from the conversational vacuum that followed. Lucky for them, Punam was in attendance and saved them all by tossing out a fascinating quodlibet.
The word quodlibet comes from Latin and means “whatever you please.” (Quod = what and libet = it pleases.)
And while The Vest-Pocket Dictionary gives us this colloquial use of the term quodlibet, the OED defines it as a specifically academic excercise wherein a student must answer any question an audience member wishes to ask about a particular field of study (which sounds a lot like a modern-day comprehensive exam).
Interestingly, the meaning of this word changes altogether should you add an s: according to The Vest-Pocket Dictionary a quodlibets is a confused or disconnected collection. And according to the OED a quodlibet (without the s) can also be a quibbling point of argument or a musical composition containing more than one melody.
You can find a complete listing of the Word Blog’s Vest-Pocket Vocabulary entries and learn more about where they come from here.
Lexical Vexations
wet 1. adj. soaked with or coverd by liquid. 2. v. to cause to be soaked with or covered by liquid.
whet v. to sharpen, both literally (as in to whet a knife) and figuratively (as in to whet one’s appetite).
Words in the Wild: Nancy’s curiosity was whetted when she saw the fluffy mogwai at the pet store. And though the clerk said she shouldn’t get it wet, she couldn’t wait to take it home and give it a good bath.
Still vexed? You can find a complete list of the Word Blog’s lexical vexations here.
Vest-Pocket Vocabulary
Pleonas’tic, adj. containing unnecessary words.
Word in the Wild: Say what you will about Aunt Vera’s cell phone addiction, but I still prefer her 140-character texts to all the pleonastic emails she used to send.
The OED says this word dates back to 1776, but the noun pleonasm, meaning the use of too many words, goes all the way back to 1610.
You can find a complete listing of the Word Blog’s Vest-Pocket Vocabulary entries and learn more about where they come from here.
