The schmetterlings are coming!

Yikes! Hide! What?!  Some of you are wondering, maybe a bit panicked, and scratching your heads. What the heck are schmetterlings, you’re asking yourselves? Some of you (who know German) are laughing and shaking your heads. The term is German for butterflies. In French, it’s papillons, which sounds much more sublime. The German term seems more fitting for an army tank than a beautiful, winged insect.

The full-throated, guttural nature of the German language just puts a harsh spin on the spoken word and isn’t very palatable to those of us with a more nasal or sing-song approach to word formation. Perception of the way an unfamiliar word sounds may taint our acceptance of whatever it is the word defines.

Like yogurt. It’s a Turkish word. The first time Mom bought yogurt and placed it in the fridge, it repelled me just by its name alone. Na-unh. Not touching that. Well, to be fair, it was installed in our home as another of Mom’s diet foods, so that couldn’t be good. It was safe from me raiding her stash.

Another word that repulsed me: exercise. For obvious reasons. Even the infamous Jack Lalanne hated exercise. With a passion. But ask me to go on a bike ride, a walk, do yoga. All in. Yes, let’s!

Yoga could be one of those hunh words. It’s not as fun to say as pilates. People think, oh, it’s just stretching and not a real health benefit. Let me just say this, for the generations past your prime, where movement is becoming problematic, you need to stay as limber as possible to preserve your ability to move, to bend, to breathe. Just try a couple classes. You’ll see what I mean. I started doing yoga when I was 16. I had fallen down some stairs and wrecked up the alignment of my spine. I was in a lot of pain. It was difficult to move.

As a teenager, I couldn’t let this go on. After months of chiropractic adjustments, I decided to take it up a notch when I saw this little mini-book on yoga at the grocery store checkout. I bought it and my girlfriend and I embarked on our yoga journey. It changed my life. Over the years, I have sporadically given up practicing yoga and then returned to it. Currently, I’ve been engaged in a twice-a-week class for about six or seven years. I can’t put my foot behind my head like I could in my 30s, maybe even my 40s. But I can bring my heel to the top of my head. So ... I’m still pretty agile. And I’m told I look young for my age. So ... can’t hurt. Just try it.

Another word: galoshes. Some of you have likely never heard that word. It’s a necessity in Iowa’s fall and spring weather. They are the rubber half-boots worn over footwear to protect feet and shoes from rain and slush. Silly sounding word. French (which explains things) derived from the Latin/Gallic word for sandal.

Then how about goulash, which is a Hungarian type of meat stew, heavily seasoned with paprika. Mom made it with hamburger, tomato juice, onion and macaroni...so quite a modification on the original dish. Probably something she learned from her mother who took in boarders during the Great Depression and had to feed everyone on a shoestring budget. Which brings to light another French cooking term, casserole, meaning pan. So, a one-pan meal.  Ta Da!

Mom was famous for her casseroles. And pies. I’ve written about that. She had the knack (Middle English term meaning clever trick). Oh, and I still have my little yoga book. It’s right here on my desk. Changed. My. Life.