Sherman Williams and The Water Closet

My Sweet Hubby (MSH) and TLC just flat tickle me. A lot. I have quirks, too, of course. Don’t we all? But sometimes theirs crack me up in a major way.

MSH has the funniest vocabulary and way of saying names and words. I’ve shared with y’all, in past posts, that, as TLC grew up, he had cute names for her friends. Often, while we were discussing TLC’s experiences and schedules with said friends, he’d “change” their names to something close/similar/downright charming. I’ve learned, over the past 37 years with him, I have to think about what he’s saying/asking/commenting on—when he uses names and words that he’s made up in his fascinating brain.

Sherwin Williams. A paint store one can find all over Texas. I assume it’s all over the U.S. Heck, I don’t know. Maybe the World? Been around for many, many years. MSH calls it Sherman Williams. (I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: This is a SMART man. Seriously SMART.) He calls it this even when he’s there—inside a Sherman Williams’ store—with a sales associate. Even when I remind him, as we're walking in to said store, the name is Sherwin. Sherwin, Dear. I’m not going to lie—it’s a tidbit embarrassing. Happened last week. (We’ve had glass replaced in all the doors that lead from inside our home to the outside and needed to start the process of finding some paint colors for the trim of the new casings.) When we got back out to his truck to head home, I said: “For the one millionth time, it’s SHERWIN. S. H. E. R. W. I. N. Not Sherman.” He looked at me with those gorgeous dark brown eyes and simply grinned. Sheesh.

Water Closet. Not a term I have ever used in my 59 years to describe the area where the commode/toilet is located in a home/office/business. This conversation took place two days ago, at our Country Casa, as TLC and Little Leighton (LL) visited us:

TLC: Could you keep an eye on LL while I run to the water closet?

ELC: Sure. (I immediately started thinking, in my mind: Why does she call the toilet area a “water closet?” She’s been doing this for about three to four years and I’ve never questioned her. Never even giggled at her as she said it. That’s not like me. Where, on Earth, did she get this? I knew I had to ask. As soon as possible. And before I forgot. Again.)

An hour later, TLC was putting makeup on in our master bathroom. I walked in to get some ibuprofen (It happens to me and MSH when LL is here. We find we have to amp up our ingestion of pain pills for our arthritis. Due to our up/down/runnin’ around movements with a now almost 18-month-old. We don’t care. It’s worth it!). I decided to finally clear this mystery up.

ELC: Hey, I’ve been wondering about this for several years: Why do you call the toilet room “the water closet?” Where did you get that? What's wrong with "restroom?" I have never, ever, EVER, in 59 years, used that phrase. I don’t even hear other people say it. Is it British or something? Is it a deep desire/longing to connect with your English roots?

TLC: First, Mamacita, I guess it must be HGTV that I picked this term up from, okie-dokie? (Really, TLC? I don’t watch as much as you, but I’m not remembering ever hearing anyone use that term.) Who, Mom, wants to say “toilet?” Or “commode?” I’m trying to be a little more classy than that—if you don’t mind. Second, I don’t think “water closet” is English. I believe they call it “the loo.”

ELC: Hmmm. Isn’t that French?

TLC: Lord help us, all. Loo? French? Sheesh. Are you thinking of The Louvre? No. It’s British, Mom. I’m almost certain. Besides, you’ve said “powder room” for as long as I can remember. Why can’t I say water closet?

ELC: Well, true. I do say powder room. Mostly in mixed company. Or when I want to feel fancy. I suppose if it makes you happy, you go right on ahead and keep using that terminology. I can’t wait for Dad to realize what you’re saying. So far, I don’t think he’s ever really been able to hear what you’re calling it. He’s going to razz you unmercifully. TEEheeHEE. And I can’t wait for LL to go to public school. It’ll be a hoot when she asks her teacher if she can visit “the water closet.” TEEheeHEEheeHAhaHA.

A CONFESSION:

Okay. It’s true. Sometimes I make a mistake with words and names. I’ll admit it. The biggest, most consistent mistake I make is a street in Fort Worth, Texas, that I call Bryant Irwin. It’s Bryant Irvin. With a “v.” As I say it, I know I’m saying it wrong. I do. I've done it for, oh, probably, 30 years. Maybe longer.

ELC to Her Sweet Husband or TLC or anyone else who's transporting her in a vehicle, as they’re nearing Bryant Irvin:

Hey, are you going to take Bryant Irwin? Irvin? I meant Irvin. Crud.

Gotta love quirks, right? They make life much more innerstin’.

Scootin’ along, Sweet Friends…Have a Wonderful Wednesday Wherever in the World Y’all are!

p.s.: I don’t often make New Year’s Resolutions. I’ve learned it’s not good for my self-esteem. However, I've told MSH I intend to walk a minimum of four mornings a week with him and Teddy Buddy Boo Bear this year. He's very dedicated and loyal to his morning walk. I know I need to be. He’s been telling me about seeing DUCKS on our Big Tank for at least three weeks. By the time he and Buddy Bear near the tank, they fly off. I don't end up seeing them the rest of the day. This morning, when we walked, in the yucky, bitter cold, there were about 30! Y’all know how much I love my ducks! (See my Duck...Duck... post on December 17, 2011 ). I’m hoping this is a great sign for 2014—a sign that we’ll finally get some relief from our drought. If these darling birds would come to our low, low, dangerously low tank now, maybe they have a psychic sense it’s going to be better. That they don’t need to go find another place to hang out and rest—on their journey South. Yippee!!!