Daily Blague

Like everyone else, I bought the new edition of The Elements of Style, stylishly illustrated by Maira Kalman, on the understanding that "I lost the copy that I had in school" and "needed" a new one.

Sorry, Charlie. The old one, dating from law school days, turned up over the weekend. The only book it's bigger than is A Uniform System of Citation - a lawyer book that is, however, somewhat fatter. Tucked in the middle of Elements was the file card shown above. I proffer it as proof that I know when to stick an awkward preposition at the end of a sentence.

Neither one of us can remember what contretemps prompted this particular stay in the nuisance corner. There is no doubt that I had done something to make me smell like a bad cheese. In those days, most of my contacts with Kathleen were in public, necessitating surreptitious notes by the ream. It was a long courtship, as you can imagine.

What drives me crazy with love for my wife of twenty-four years is the squiggle under "I." You'll note that she underlined "don't," but then found that that wasn't strong enough. Ergo: squiggle. That is Kathleen.