On leaving Denver

It's not hard to be sentimental about the place that gave me everything — everything! — for the last three years, and if that sounds dramatic, it's because it is.


Now, I'm not leaving to move back to Pennsylvania, and I'm not leaving because I've been run out of town (although what a story that'd make for the Wild West). I have wonderful reasons to be peacing out of the Front Range.


Fate (and by "fate" I mean "Pagosa Springs Elementary") offered my other half a teaching job; he took it. Even if it weren't an area he liked, he'd have had to take it. (It's the economy, stupid.) But everything came up Aaron, and he got a grade he likes in an area he likes where he already has a house with a wife whose work is portable.


And so we're going.


Pagosa Springs, Colorado, has a population of about 1,800. ...My high school was bigger than that.

It is, without a doubt, a big change for me: I grew up in the suburbs, went to college with 40,000 other undergrads, and moved to a city. I've never lived in a place without other family members. My neighborhood roads were always paved. I've never lived hours and hours from Target (or something of the sort).


Change doesn't have to be a bad thing. 


My beagle will have much more room to play, inside and out. I'll never have to worry about a parking space. Aaron and I will finally have all of our collective stuff in one place. We'll have a hot springs pass and a greenhouse — and perhaps some chicks. I'll edit on the deck, with a view of Pagosa Peak.


Oh, and some other big changes include, y'know, marriage. Work. And very soon my name (legally, finally).


I've never considered anyone else in my relocations, in my job choices, in my finances. (Well, OK, I consider the dog in my finances, but she doesn't have access to my bank accounts.) We're doing this together.  I'm excited to do it together.


But excitement for our future doesn't change how I feel about my adoptive city.


Fewer than 10 days after graduation, I arrived at my cousins' house. Moving here meant spending more time with people I care so, so much about — and being broken in to Colorado culture gently by people who care so, so much about me, too. I doubt I would have moved here if it weren't for Heather and Mark. They gave me the guts to work hard to get out to Colorado. You can bet I'll be paying it forward.


And those little girls? I learned about parenting. I re-learned how to have fun with my imagination instead of a tailgate. I reveled in hugs and laughter.


Two weeks after arriving, I got my first post-college job! How's that for turnaround? (Economy, schmeconomy.)

I found the Penn State alumni bar — and found friends. This gave me a safe, close, happy place to get in some gridiron goodness and to feel at home. (On fall Saturdays, anyway: Pat's is a Philly bar otherwise, and we all know how quickly I'd probably die in such a place.)

I got my own place. I got a beagle puppy. I got 14ers. I got to see my (sometimes surprisingly victorious) visiting Pirates, Steelers, and Penguins.


The PSU alumni bar later gave me one of the best things ever: Aaron. If you know the story, you know it's a good one. If you don't know the story, the very short version is that we met there. May [the deity of your choosing] forever smile on Penn State football and that bar.

I got snowshoes. I got new, better jobs. I got an engagement ring. I got more nearby family, as Aunt Lisa and Uncle Ed moved westward, and I tacked on a brother-in-law.

I love this place.

I don't know where I'm going to make new friends when we move. I'm certain there's not a Penn State alumni bar anywhere near Pagosa Springs — Colorado Springs might be the closest, and it's at least four hours away. 


I don't know where our "nearest" Target is (as if there were multiple from which to choose). I think there's a Wal-Mart in Durango.

I don't know how my little Neon is going to handle the back roads in the winter. Maybe he'll need all-season tires?

I don't know when I'll next see everyone I care about in the Front Range. The phone will have to do for now.


The I-don't-knows don't scare me. They're just new projects that I am lucky enough to tackle with my other half.


One more I-don't-know: I don't know how to fully express what Denver — and Colorado as a whole — has meant to me.

And on that note, take me home, country roads. We leave on Saturday.

On "peruse" and context clues

Ordinarily, I believe Merriam-Webster can do no wrong. M-W makes me want to be a lexicographer. And the contradicting definitions of peruse are no fault of M-W, per se — after all, you are not much good at compiling meanings if you ignore the ones you don't like.



Can context clues save us here? I think the answer is "maybe."

I perused the library's Colorado history offerings.

Straight up, there is nothing in this sentence to help us.

Searching for just the right references for my paper, I perused the library's Colorado history offerings.

This version does suggest close attention. And this next one?

With four hours to kill until Aaron would be ready to walk home with me, I perused the library's Colorado history offerings.

Certainly, the phrasing above leads readers to believe peruse is meant as a leisurely look-through.

So, as your English teachers suggested for years that you use the text surrounding a troublesome word to help you ascertain its meaning for yourself, you can help everyone else "get you" by wording your sentences carefully and arming your readers and listeners with tools of understanding.

On "comprise" vs. "compose"

You'll inevitably find incorrect usage of comprise-compose in any kind of medium, but you'll also find the pairing in every style guide's list of troublesome words.

Comprise sounds a little more formal, doesn't it? In fact, it's just a one-word way to say "is made up of."

The exam comprises seven questions.

The bill, comprising legitimate regulations and obvious riders, was popular in the House.

The formula is this: [The whole] comprises [the parts]. Avoid using "of," and avoid putting the parts first.

Compose, however, does have several meanings. Mostly, we mean it as to create/put together, but it can also mean to settle and even to reduce to a minimum. If you mean it in the first way, the "composed of" construction is valid.

The exam is composed of seven questions.

She composed some of her best stories at 4 a.m.

His hands were shaking, but he composed himself and approached his boss.

They tried to compose their differences to make the holidays less awkward for the children.

Apparently, it's American to be wrong about this, but the Brits know their English. Don't be a stupid American.

On the many and varied uses of "I"

"Witzig, what are you thinking?" your mind plagues you. The title is tongue-in-cheek; I promise.

I is used for one purpose only: It is the subject. Nothing is ever given to I. You don't go anywhere with I. And, certainly, nothing is I's. I is not an object of a preposition, a direct object, an indirect object, or a possessive form.

Saying You should come with she and I isn't formal; it's wrong. You should come with her and me is the sentiment (and the syntax) you seek.

We should all be thanking our lucky stars that we don't have to sit here and try to go through nominative, genitive, dative, accusative, and ablative cases as we compose our thoughts. (Who doesn't love a good declension, though? I know my sisters and fellow former Latin students do.)

Instead, if I need to pause, I can think of it this way: If I am doing something or feeling some way, I will use I, the nominative case, the subject. If something is being done for me, toward me, with me, to me, etc., I will use me, the objective case. If something belongs to me, I will use my or mine.

Myself is used as a reflexive pronoun or an intensifier. However, it is never the subject: Aaron and myself went to the store. Nope. I don't see myself going to the grocery store today. Yep. And it's never solely the object: You can give your fantasy football money to myself is incorrect. I myself will contact the commish displays the intensive property of myself. Hint: Double up! If you don't hear yourself using another matching first-person form in your sentence, it's not right. Don't be afraid to use me!

Beatles fans, I Me Mine has nothing to do with declensions.

On Witz & Wams

I'm sorry, Internet.

I was going to have another grammar post for you on Monday, but what I thought was Date Night turned into Engagement Night. I trust you will forgive me for the delay in posting and for the non-grammar topic that follows. (The banner at the top there does say I might talk sports 'n' love sometimes.)

On Saturdays, Aaron and I wear our white and blue, shriek as Penn State runs it up the middle on third-and-long, and roar heartily when our defense pounces. On Sundays, he dons his Cunningham shirt and I my Polamalu jersey. The dog is smart enough not to choose sides — given her name, though, I think we know her leanings — and we constantly check our fantasy teams' stats.

My name is Monica Witzig, and my fiancé is an Eagles fan.

And we tag-team dinner. And we read in bed. And we scream-laugh at Archer. And we put whiskey in our tea. And we find General Sherman look-alikes at baseball games. And we go hiking. And we sing to Metallica in the car. And it's perfect.