Connecticut. My statement that the second c has never been pronounced is, of course, beyond proof. […] As with so many other points, this should be investigated by a competent Algonquinist.

My neat-freak of a friend has been compulsively shampooing for every bath he has taken.

[…] Nay some have learn’d the trick To beg for absent persons; feign them sick, Close mew’d in their Sedans, for fear of air:

She’d chat with the babcias who ran the bakery and called her the Angel of the Market, or with Eva, who sold ropes of hair extensions and gave Fahima a leopard print shawl that Fahima’s mother wouldn’t let her wear as a hijab.[…]It was the busiest weekend of the year, when all the babcias in the city descended on the market to buy butter lambs and crown roasts.