Matt’s got the most amazing vocabulary. It’s so impressive that even when he’s correcting my pronunciation or challenging my word selection, I’ve come to appreciate that it’s not because he’s an intellectual snob. It’s because he considers me a person with the capacity to benefit from his linguistic superiority.

So… last night in the garden, when he used the word befuzzlement during our conversation, I was happy to offer him a similar service.

Since I recognize Matt as person capable of benefiting from my linguistic superiority (in this instance), I told him befuzzlement wasn’t a real word, even in a slang dictionary.

Matt didn’t accept my benevolent attempt to help him hone his linguistic acumen quite as gracefully as I do when he corrects me.

In fact, he emphatically reiterated his certainty that I was wrong and he was right.

So, rather than spend an otherwise gorgeous evening in discord (or discourse over such a trivial topic), we agreed to consult the confuser in our phones.

A quick google search revealed that I was (for once) correct and Matt was (for once) wrong.

Befuzzlement is not a recognized word in any reputable dictionary – official, urban, colloquial, or otherwise.

Given the sheer number of times Matt has accurately corrected my word selection over the years, my satisfaction at being able to provide him a similar service was understandably immense.

Once proven wrong by outside counsel, with surprising grace, Matt finally admitted that he had muddled befuddled and puzzled to come up with befuzzled.

And frankly, I could hardly blame him for making that mistake.

We were sitting at the center of our edible landscape, surrounded by such incredible natural splendor, that it was hard to focus on the conversation.

In fact, it was such a stunningly beautiful and enjoyable evening in the garden that I wanted to memorialize it with photos here on my personal blog.

Also, I kind of understand Matt’s befuddlement over befuzzlement.

Moments before that verbal blunder, we’d been discussing how bumblebees are almost mammalian in appearance. They’re like tiny teddy bears that you almost want to snuggle.

We’d also talked about how fuzzy and soft the spring oregano appeared.

Plus, we had the feathery, fluffy, fuzzy, frizzy, fronds of fennel on our minds.

Actually… maybe befuzzlement should be a word.

We can define it as what happens to a person’s vocabulary when they are completely intoxicated by the influence of the spring garden.

Better yet… maybe we should call it befuzzlemint.

Happy Spring Everyone!

Leave a Reply