Making It Up As I Go Along #393

End’s Meat
The things we say. There are some things that often strike me as weird, or funny.

Until I reached the approximate age of 25, I thought the term wasn’t “making ends meet”... I thought it was “making ends meat”. I actually even had an explanation for the term in my head that made some level of logical sense... I figured, when times were tough, all that could be afforded was the end of a roast. So, complete with British accent storey telling, people would talk of how...

“Ahh, it was tough times back then, me lovey... we couldn’t afford the whole roast... na, back then we could only afford End’s Meat... and we felt lucky to have it.”

I felt this was much more poetic than simply making two ends come together. Ends of what anyway? Rope? I much prefer the end of the roast to the thought of a lasso.

Some things are spoken of differently in Ontario than they would be in the world I came from. Everybody around here, when talking of going from Toronto to Ottawa, says they’re “coming down to Ottawa”. Being one with a geographical background, I go the other way around... Ottawa is north, so you’d be coming up here from Toronto. I assume it’s based on sea level differences. Toronto is a bit higher than Ottawa so they come “down the hill”. Some may argue it’s the Toronto superiority complex and they look “down” their noses towards boring ol’ O-town. But Ottawa people do it too... speaking of “going up to Toronto for the weekend”.

There is one other place where the up and down aspect of things goes opposite of what I see as logical. Many Newfoundlanders, my father included, speak of going “down to the Labrador”. I’m really not sure where that one comes from, as Labrador would be both north and, if anything, higher than the island. But now that I’m used to it, I find the saying sort of legendary... especially with the “the” part thrown in. It’s not Labrador you’re going to... it’s THE Labrador.

With the help of google, I find this quote from a Melvin Baker, Robert Cuff article...

Residents of the Island of Newfoundland have regarded travel to Labrador as "going down north to Labrador" (or, more precisely, "the Labrador") rather than the usual geographical convention of regarding north as being "up". To Newfoundlanders the north has almost always been perceived as the Labrador portion of the province. Down north has been regarded alternately as a land of backwardness and poverty and as the Newfoundland "frontier", described by Smallwood in The New Newfoundland (1931) as "Newfoundland's high auxiliary" because of its resource potential.

And now we know.

There are other things around Ottawa that I’m not used to. There is Dalhousie Street. Anyone from the Atlantic region would pronounce this as del-HOWES-e. But people around here call it del-WHOS-e... and with the pronunciation of one word, your Atlantic roots can immediately be ascertained.

There is the use of baseball. That is the term, not the ball. In Newfoundland, baseball is the game as seen on TV. That one the Blue Jays try to play (stressing the “try”). After that, there’s two types of softball to play... fastpitch, and slow pitch. And back home, there is a level of manliness attached to each game. Baseball is played by the snobby elite. You’d say things like “pay no attention to him, he’s a baseball player” (said in the tone that he’s too caught up in himself to know what’s going on anyway). On the opposite side of things, slow pitch is played by drunkards... those that are two steps away from being homeless. You’d say things like “pay no attention to him, he’s a slow pitch player” (said in the tone that he’s too drunk to know what you’re saying anyway). The well rounded, good heads... we were all fastpitch players. Honourable members of a dying sport being overtaken by all those slow pitch riff raff.

In Ottawa, it’s all just baseball. Someone would say, “I’ve got to go, I’ve got baseball!” And, being an interested sort, you’d ask, “oh, you play baseball?” (Being surprised as you ask cause they don’t seem to be the snobby elite type). And they roll their eyes and begrudgingly say “well, slow pitch”. I think they call it baseball because they want to extend the illusion that somewhere out there, there may be a baseball card with their name and face on it. There are no softball cards to be had.

On TV, there are sayings that lose all meaning within moments. The most common that I notice is said at those times when two person news or sports casts end. One of the two hosts will say something like “for Jay Onrait, I’m Dan O’Toole, good night everyone”.

This is a touch silly sounding but still acceptable when it stands alone. But then Jay Onrait will chime in with a “Bye bye”... and the whole thing is ruined! Dan O’Toole spoke for you Jay Onrait. You’re last words makes what he said completely meaningless. Lesson to learn... Sometimes it’s just really hard for people to remain quiet.

Finally, there are those sayings that just need to go away. They have lost all relevance in today’s world and should never be spoken of again. You see, back in olden times... when times were tough and food was scarce, all people craved was a loaf of bread. I tell you, back then bread was viewed like a steak dinner. And if you had a bit of butter to go along with it, you lived just short of royalty.

“What did you do last night?”... “Why we broke bread with the Mitchell family from down the street, and a grand time we had!”

It didn’t take much back then. No need of a knife even. You just gathered with neighbours and broke your bread wide open, feasting on the bready goodness within.

With the only goal in life being to make enough money to earn your bread, with a bit of butter, born was the phrase, “that’s his bread and butter”. In other words, he’s so good at this particular skill, that he earns his bread and butter by doing it. (Again, I think using “End’s Meat” here would be even better).

But this bread and butter phrase continues... and it must be stopped. Lazy baseball commentators use it all the time (that’s real baseball, not Ontario baseball/softball/fastpitch/softball... of which there is no need for a commentator cause they’re too drunk/caught up in themselves to listen to a commentator anyway).

Constantly you hear them say things like “his curveball is his bread and butter.” In other words, that’s his best pitch. He’s making money as a baseball pitcher because of his curveball. The only thing is we’re beyond bread and butter. We have so much bread that we gorge ducks on the stuff at the pond! Enough with the bread and butter. When baseball players make $20 million dollars per season, there is no more talk of bread and butter.

So these are just a few of the words and phrases in this world that make absolutely no sense in using. And my “End’s Meat” is the best of all of them... and made that up based on pure stupidity for a twenty-five year period. Go figure.


SATURDAY...
— Work alone again, it’s a slightly busier than the average Saturday... but that doesn’t mean I’m worked too hard.
— Some hockey after work and then off to bed.

SUNDAY...
— Miss ball due to work. The team wins without me. I think I see the key to our success.
— Best Grey Cup I’ve watched in many a year... and there’s been some good ones over that time frame. Felt bad for Saskatchewan but it was still really fun to watch. KFC accompanied the game.

MONDAY...
— Last day working in CPSIC. Phil and I get pizza and have a fairly normal night of work.

TUESDAY...
— Quiet day at home. I’m now off until next Monday. The plus side of getting moved around at work.
— Blackberry surgery required tonight. Dust and dirt clogs the track ball and I can’t move the mouse up... check the internet a bit on procedure and I carefully remove and clean the ball. Don’t want to do that every day. But it works.

WEDNESDAY...
— Drinks and a bite of food with Laura. Janice and Cara Lea are there as well. Always fun seeing Laura... the stories... ah the stories.
— Finally get to see Ultimate Fighting on TV again (as it seems like it’s been the same repeat for months). Two shows back to back make it all better. But I have no interest in either of the guys going to the final... I was annoyed at the results of the fights.

THURSDAY...
— Groceries, some exercise, an hour and a half walk in the night.

FRIDAY...
— Accidently didn’t decline my Columbia House DVD for last month. Got lucky in the DVD I’m forced to take... Bring on Star Trek.
— Montreal’s 100th birthday of the Canadiens. Great ceremony to start the night. They really know how to make the history mean something. And cold shivers couldn’t be helped watching Patrick Roy skate out in full gear for a pre-game warm up.

SATURDAY...
— Home day. Pretty much do nothing. Get some flack for skipping out on a Christmas get together but I just wasn’t feeling too social tonight.