Earlier, having mastered two exceptional new words, I declared to my wife, who has professed her love for me at times, that I was brewing a cup of ante-jentacular tea in an effort to jump-start personal anabiosis. She barely glanced at me, walking instead into the other room and sitting down in front of the TV, that flat-screen devil where young pigs with pinwheels have screamed “Whee!” from car windows and wretched blue cartoon bears have come into my home waving their wretched cartoon-bear underwear to moan about butt hygiene and rep for fucking toilet paper.
Call me old-fashioned, but bears and pigs really ought not to be doing that.
So I followed her. Because maybe she didn’t hear me.
“Ante-jentacular,” I reiterated. “Anabiosis.”
“I don’t care,” she said.
I am dead. She hath killed me.
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Comments
hopefully you describe merely a pseudo-death, such that a shot of that tea, or perhaps the jentacle with which it was entangled that morn, served to jump start the ol’ biosis quite smartly. Salud!
regardless, somewhat appropos of the Rome thing, you’ve introduced , nay, brought to the light of day, the sad truth that our 16 year old Merriam-Webster, overtly in hale health, has not kept up with the times. by which I mean to say, that nowhere between anabasis and anacoluthon, do we find anabiosis, and certainly nowhere in any permutation do we find jentacular, ante-jentacular, antejentacular, nor anti-jentacular!
but yes, wikidictionary has them both.
sigh…
To the Advance of Language and the irrelevance of the Flat Screen!
love you,
Sue