bibliokleptomania

Kleptomania is “an obsessive impulse to steal regardless of economic need.”

You probably knew that already.

But what about

bibliokleptomania?

That’s

bib·lio

klep·to

ma·nia.

Can you deduce the definition?

If you related this tongue-twisting term to books, you’re on the right track.

Photo from the German Federal Archive via Wikimedia Commons

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Egg what?

Farmer Jane knew from the gecko that it would be one of those days.

It started with a call from her neighbor: the bobwire fence that divided their pastures was down, and the fast majority of her cows had ventured next door for a visit.

Ugh.

“I’d be internally grateful if you could fix that fence right away,” the neighbor plied.

Farming is a tough road to hoe, Jane thought.

She hung up the phone and poured herself a glass of milk. To her dismay, it was skimp milk—darn her husband’s diet!

No sense in griping, though. The milk was a mute point.

Jane decided it was time to cease the day and hone in on her morning’s task of fence mending.

——————————————————————————————

Did you catch them?

You probably didn’t know it, but as you read through Jane’s entry, you were gathering eggcorns.

Not acorns.

Eggcorns.

And, no, I’m afraid you can’t eat them.

They really have nothing to do with eggs …

or corn.

An eggcorn is an alteration of a word or phrase in which the correct word is replaced with a similar sounding word that also makes sense (well, sort of).

For example: “ex-patriot” instead of “expatriate” or “mating name” instead of “maiden name”.

Here are Jane’s eggcorns:

  • gecko (get go)
  • bobwire (barbed wire)
  • fast majority (vast majority)
  • internally grateful (eternally grateful)
  • tough road to hoe (tough row to hoe)
  • skimp milk (skim milk)
  • mute point (moot point)
  • cease the day (seize the day)
  • hone in (home in)

I found a whole list of eggcorns here, and some made me laugh out loud.

Heard any good ones lately?

Nuncheon, anyone?

It’s barely 10 a.m.,

but you feel like munchin’ …

You’re craving some crunchin’ …

Can’t wait for a luncheon!

No worries, my dear.

Let’s do a nuncheon.

I didn’t make this one up,

honest.

“Nuncheon” is every bit as real a word as luncheon,

and both were invented in the 19th century

(by Mother Necessity, of course).

After all, a gal can get mighty hungry come mid-morning.

gift_gab-nuncheon1

At the beginning of the nineteenth century, breakfast often occurred well after sunup, and dinner came along in mid-afternoon, so lunch as we know it wasn’t really an issue.

But as time went by, dinner got pushed back hour-by-hour, and, well, you can see the obvious problem.

“Luncheon” began to light upon the tongues of the hungry, but some cynical soul deemed it a vulgar term.

Somehow, nuncheon (which may have been pronounced noon-shine) was easier on the ears.

Go figure.

According to period author Regina Scott of Nineteen Teen, nuncheon food “was laid out on a sideboard in the dining room, and you could pick from cold meats like ham and roast beef, pickles, fruit preserves, and dessert-type items like cakes, buns, and tarts, all washed down with ale or tea. You might even grab up a sandwich of bread, meat, and cheese.”

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