Found it.

Trampoline! How fun is that? Well, it used to be a trademark but is now a generic term. Thanks, AP.

What else? I found out through minimal research that an early form of trampolining was performed by the Inuit up in the northern regions of Canada, Denmark, Russia and the United States (think boo-coldies). They would use a walrus skin to hoist the  person high into the air, ensuring that the person would feel the cool wind rush through his or her hair. Ah, a great feeling for those living in the north. Yeah.

Later, circus performers passed around a story that the name trampoline came from du Trampolin, an artist who (according to Wikipedia, so take this with a proverbial grain of salt) “saw the possibility of using the trapeze safety net as a form of propulsion and landing device and experimented with different systems of suspension, eventually reducing the net to a practical size for separate performance.” No real evidence exists to prove this statement true, but it makes for a reasonable-sounding story, at least.

How fun is this bungee trampoline? Super-fun! (photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/sercasey/2883732081/)

Nowadays, several companies make trampolines. They can be a great form of exercise, but they can be dangerous, as well. Take me, for example.

When I was maybe 7 years old, I went with my family to visit another family who owned a cabin and a lovely plot of land in Minnesota (mosquito-ridden Minnesota in the summer — that’s another story). They had a trampoline. Imagine my excitement seeing it, and then seeing my two big sisters and all the other kids jumping on that sucker. Super-fun times ahead, yes?

I got on, got used to jumping, then learned how to do some flips. Yes, super-fun times, indeed. I did flip after flip. Super-duper fun. Then I did another. Except instead of landing on my feet — I must’ve been getting tired — I landed on my eye. On the springs.

Yeah. Super-fun experience.

That was my first (and I think only) black eye.

But you know what? I do remember flinging my body upward through the air and how completely fun and freeing it was.

So be careful out there, bouncing around. Watch your landings. And have fun learning to fly, if only for a few seconds at a time.

Happy trails!

SAK

I went to a class a few years ago and learned how to use stained glass in stepping stones — er, steppingstones. I had such a great time at the class; it brought back the sense of creating something from scratch, much like what I experienced in college while studying theatre. One of the requirements of getting my theatre degree was to work in the scene shop, and I had a ball. Such fun to learn how to drill, cut, hammer, paint, affix, decorate and tear down sets with real power tools! Those were fun, creative times, and this particular steppingstone class, in which I learned how to use nippers, cutters and grinders, reminded me of those hands-on days.

Anyway, the point of all this is this: Since that class several years ago, I’ve made a couple of steppingstones on my own: One was a K-State Wildcat (I know! I know! It was a gift!) and one was an Armenian ‘A’ for my dad (who didn’t realize at first that it was an Armenian ‘A’ (which looks like an uppercase U with a tail); he was just so proud that I had made something for him, he didn’t care what was actually on the stone, and I thought that his reaction was absolutely worth all the effort). But just now, while flipping through my AP Stylebook for blog inspiration, I ran across steppingstone (again, one word — I’m flabbergasted).

So I had to verify this one-word concoction. And yes, both Merriam-Webster and Webster’s New World College dictionaries backed it up.

Happy trails!

SAK

As a slightly OCD writer-editor-proofreader-blogger, I love it. Though some of its rules drive the masses wild — especially when I’m the messenger — I love it still.

The journalist’s bible provides the grammatical and editorial guidelines that allow creativity to flow between, to bounce off of, to knock over said rules as need be. How else could all of those ruffian writers out there prove that they’re outside of the establishment if there were no establishment to rail against? Editors know of these ruffians. And editors and writers often have a love-hate relationship. (OK, hate is a strong word. Sometimes.) Lots of AP haters are out there, though, let me tell you.

I fight the good fight daily and trust that my 2011 AP Stylebook will not steer me wrong — even as it insists on my putting a period at the end of every bulleted sentence or phrase, no matter how brief it may be — crazy.

So what else came out of the last round of changes to the AP Stylebook? Here are a few changes, short and sweet:

One-word changes:

• Cellphone
• Checkout
• Email (only an uppercase “E” if it starts a sentence)
• Filmgoer
• Firsthand
• Geolocation
• Handheld (noun)
• Nonprofit
• Postgame
• Pregame
• Serviceman, servicewoman (but still service member)
  
• Smartphone
• Soundstage
• Tipoff
• Unfollow
• Videotape
  

If you’re a wordsmith at all, you’re probably already aware that the hyphenated “e-mail” fought hard but bit the dust. That one change alone made a gajillion people very, very happy. The others, such as cellphone and postgame — going from two words or hyphenated words to one word — didn’t cause as much of a ruckus. But there they are.

Happy trails!

SAK

Let’s say a writer (a male in this instance, not that it matters) writes a book. He chooses particular words and phrases in a particular order — in order to get across a particular meaning. By trying to get across his meaning, the writer is implying. The writer writes and implies meaning.The same could be said of a speaker (this time, a woman). She implies meaning by the words she chooses to say.

In these same two scenarios, an audience is either reading or hearing the words. The audience is, thus, inferring something from those words — interpreting, if you will.

• To imply is to mean something with the words chosen.
• To infer is to evaluate the meaning of the words chosen.

Another way to look at it is that the act of implying is more active, while the act of inferring is more reactive (the one doing the inferring is actively doing something, too — inferring — but doing so in reaction to something that has come before — the words). One could argue that the person who wrote or spoke the words with implication did so in reaction to some previous stimulus, and to that I say, “Yes, that is probably correct, and that angle is for another day.”

The AP Stylebook states it in a simpler fashion, so if that’s your thing (and why the heck wouldn’t it be, because my ramblings can be a bit hard to follow), here it is:

Writers or speakers imply in the words they use. A listener or reader infers something from the words.

See? Simple and easy.

Happy trails!

SAK

The newest incarnation of the AP Stylebook has a section dubbed Food Guidelines. It’s not long at barely two pages, but it’s a great addition to the guide. The majority consists of rules to follow for recipe writers and editors. So I’ll mention a few of these rules now and throw in a summertime (really, anytime) recipe for your eating pleasure:

• Recipes are to start with a title in all caps.
• Follow the title with a start-to-finish timeline (as in how long is it going to take before you can actually eat the thing you’re preparing).
• How many servings your dish makes is next.
• List your ingredients in the order used (makes sense) and spell out all measurements (e.g., teaspoon (not tsp.), cup (not c.)).
• If you have an atypical ingredient, you can add clarification (e.g., ghee (clarified butter).
• Use numerals in all cases (i.e., measurements, times, temperatures) except for two numbers that are next to each other. In that case, spell out the first number and use a numeral for the second number (e.g., two 14.5-ounce cans).
• Write the recipe instructions in short, clear sentences.
• If your recipe calls for an oven, add something like “Heat the oven to 400 F” at the beginning of the recipe unless the recipe takes more than half an hour to complete. If that’s the case, either add that instruction in at an appropriate time or find a shorter recipe!
• Write sentences with equipment or technique at the beginning, followed by the ingredients (e.g., “With the hand mixer on medium, whisk the cake mix, egg and oil together for two minutes”). That seems a bit picky for my liking, but whatever.
• Any nutrition information that you’d like to add to the recipe, such as fat (!), calorie or sodium content, goes at the bottom.

Isn’t that fun? Now, for the really fun part: This recipe is something I created from memory. I had gone to a Kansas City Mexican restaurant that doesn’t exist anymore and tasted the most wonderful, flavorful, sweet guac imaginable. And the following recipe is what I came up with. The “secret” ingredient? Orange juice — it adds a hint of sweetness to this otherwise zesty appetizer. Please keep in mind that people who have sworn up and down that they are not guacamole people have tried this and loved it. They weren’t just being polite, either, so you should give it a whirl. I don’t have any nutritional information, but I do know that it’s a pretty healthy dish with healthy fats. Just as with everything, eat it in moderation — if you can.

Guacamole served in a traditional molcajete Credit: (photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/bionicteaching/3099666450/)

9-INGREDIENT GUACAMOLE

Start to finish: 10 minutes

Servings: 3–5

• 3 ripe avocados, seeded and skinned
  
• 1/3 white or red onion, diced
  
• 1 hefty tablespoon minced garlic
  
• 1 handful fresh cilantro, chopped
  
• 1 jalapeño, diced (to taste)
  
• 3 squirts lime juice (bottled or fresh)
  
• 3 tablespoons orange juice
  
• Several shakes Lawry’s seasoned salt
  
• Ground black pepper (to taste)
  

Combine all ingredients in a bowl and mash till slightly chunky. If too spicy due to jalapeño, add another avocado. Serve with tortilla chips, as an accompaniment to any Mexican meal or as a topper for grilled white fish, such as tilapia or halibut or orange roughy.

Now that’s a nice-lookin’ recipe.

Hungry for more information about this guac? Check this article out.

Happy trails!

SAK

“Live in the now” is an appropriate concept to apply, I suppose, to captions and cutlines (which, coincidentally, are the same thing). The little line of copy that typically resides just below a photograph within an article is called a caption or cutline; the AP Stylebook folks prefer the term caption. No matter what you call that line, though, the cutline tells the photo’s story of who, what, when, where, why and how. If you think about it, cutlines are the most-read copy, aside from headlines; people tend to read the headlines and cutlines to determine whether to spend precious time reading the entire article. (Gasp — an entire article? The horror.) Although the second sentence is acceptable in either the present or past tense, the first sentence should almost always be written in the present tense.

Two questions arise:

1. Why the present tense? My best guess is that the photo captures a moment in time, and the present tense gives more oomph to the image — a feeling of immediacy that makes what happened in the photo seem more relevant than if it happened, let’s say, three days ago. Three days ago? That’s in the past, man. We want to know what just happened, man! We want to feel like we’re in the loop, man. Using past tense just may encourage the feeling of old news. And who wants old news? Not me, man.
2. What are the rare situations that would require a cutline to employ the past tense? Nuts if you’re thinking this, because I don’t have the answer to that one. I’ve checked out the AP Stylebook website and style guide and can’t find a reference to the past tense. Again, my best guess is that the AP Stylebook folks are not talking about the first sentence in a cutline, but the second. It’s apparently OK to write the second sentence in either present tense or past tense, depending on the publication’s or client’s preference. Wacky! So — if you have documented proof of a reason to use the past tense in a caption or cutline in the first sentence of a caption or cutline, please send it my way.

An avocado tree produces fruit in St. Luis Obispo, Calif., on Aug. 17, 2005. The tree provided several ripe fruits for the owner's salad. (photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/emdot/39454927/)

Perhaps this isn’t the most exciting example of a cutline, but it is accurate. And how cool would it be to have an avocado tree growing in your backyard? Sh’yeah!

Happy trails!

SAK

While recently writing a press release (er, make that a news release) for a client, I found out that the preferred term for a press conference is not press conference, but rather news conference.

Interesting.

Why news over press?

Because, as my agency’s director of marketing and public relations told me, a press (as in a printing press) is almost never at the conference. People waiting for news are at the conference. Whoever is holding the conference is delivering news. And in deference to electronic and other types of media, the term press is simply too exclusive. To top it all off, the AP Stylebook validates news conference as the preferred term. Thus, it should be news conference.

Makes sense, yes?

Wait for it — wait for it — news conference! (photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/gsfc/3726614425/)

Then what about news release vs. press release?

For that, I turned to my AP Stylebook again. Blast it! Nothing — no mention of press releases, nor news releases, that I can find. (If you can, please send it to me.) But I dug a little deeper and discovered on the AP Stylebook website a little gem: It has a page dedicated to past press releases. YES — press releases! It almost leaps off the screen, it’s so clear and unabashedly straightforward: Press Releases heads the page in a lovely sans font. Granted, I would’ve lowercased the “R” in Releases, but the site’s editors didn’t ask me.

Anyway, there it is. News conference and press release. Long live the quirky English language!

Happy trails!

SAK

• John Doe Bought The Farm, Never Looked Back

That sort of stylized formatting helped readers know for sure that the line of text was, indeed, separate and definitely not equal to whatever followed. It was a way to draw readers in, hopefully to become engaged with whatever followed. And it let readers know that it was the headline simply because every first letter of every (or nearly every) word was uppercase.

In these days of modernity and quick-as-lightning type adjusters, headlines have evolved — so says the AP Stylebook. For some time now, the go-to writer’s guide has mandated initial caps only for the first word in the headline, as well as any proper nouns:

• John Doe bought the farm, never looked back

That’s it.

I Think I Know What You're Saying (Initial caps are for the birds, yes?) (image: http://www.flickr.com/photos/catnipstudio/3852732117/)

No more do the tiny articles (e.g., a, an, the) or prepositions (e.g., to, of, for) get themselves pumped up. No more does the size of the initial letters imply greater meaning of phrase. Now, it’s up to the writers to truly provide compelling copy that draws in casual passers-by, sucking them into their world of journalism, advertising and intrigue.

Long live the down-style headline. If nothing else, it’s easier on the eye. It invites readers instead of coercing them. It implies a (slightly) higher level of understanding rather than speaking to the audience as if it’s the teacher reading from a held-up book to first-graders. That alone has to count for something.

Happy trails!

SAK

I had just started in a new position at a new agency and was excited to start things off right with an updated AP Stylebook. Makes sense, I thought, since my own copy of the veritable writer’s bible was the 2007 version. Staying current with the 2010 version (even though it’s already 2011, thank you very much) seemed like a grand idea, especially since the 2011 version wasn’t going to be published for a few months yet.

The 2010 version, for those with inquiring minds, is the first book put out by the AP folks with website spelled as one word and all lowercase. That, my dear readers, was a monumental advancement. Ask any writer or editor you know (hell, you can even ask an opinionated designer or two — they’ll freely offer their belief system on the now-antiquated two-word Web site); he or she will probably be able to explain in four-part harmony the beneficial or detrimental nuances of using one word or two, depending on his or her preference.

So — back to the crapshoot.

As a writer and editor in my new digs at Armstrong|Shank Advertising, I thought it appropriate to get my hands on the latest AP Stylebook. The office manager said, “Hey! No problem. We’ll order one of those suckers right away.”

Cool!

It arrived lickety-split and I set to work, prepared for whatever odd grammar question could arise.

Those progressive heart candy makers must've known that the AP Stylebook editors would cave sooner or later (photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/trmarch/3240265590/)

Then, just a few short days ago, the AP Stylebook folks threw a grammar wrench in my well-laid plans. They decided to cave under the pressure of the masses and allow email to take the place of e-mail.

And that, my friends, is huge. Even bigger news than Web site to website. It’s so huge because, in the history of the English language, no compound noun that starts with a single letter has lost its hyphen. For example:

• A-frame
• G-string
• S-curve
• T-ball
• T-shirt
• U-turn
• X-ray

It seems odd to me that the hyphen isn’t there, too, because for the two people who don’t yet know what electronic mail is, reading the word sans hyphen could theoretically make it sound like ehMAIL. And that, as the rest of us electronic whiz kids know, isn’t how it’s supposed to sound.

Why should e-mail lose its hyphen? My best guess is because the masses, in all their texting and tweeting and e-mailing (er, emailing) glory, decided that it’s just too darn difficult to add the hyphen to a word that gets typed or written on such a frequent basis, and those masses revolted to the point of forcing the hand of the AP Stylebook editors.

So — lazy wins.

And you know what? I’m sort of OK with that. I don’t really think it’s the wisest decision based on correctness, but I’ll be a much happier — and faster — tweeter with this new rule in place.

For the record: Email is correct to start a sentence; email is correct in all other sentence locations. Fun times.

Happy trails!

SAK

Today, I came across a little snippet of information that had slipped right on by me.

Hey, cows — home's that-a-way! (photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/chelseagirlphotos/242492087/)

Did you have any idea that the AP Stylebook folks frown on using the abbreviated ’til in place of until? I surely did not. They do write that the non-apostrophed till is a perfectly acceptable substitution. But not ’til (no sirree, Bob). You write ’til and you’ll look a fool in front of all your cohorts — a fool, I tell you.

I’ve been doing it all wrong for a very long time. Poo. Fool me once ….

So — Until is good. Till is OK, too.

Happy trails!

SAK