It is what I say it is

In a recent column, Frank Bruni of the New York Times contemplated why certain words and phrases come out of our mouths, sometimes with a whole new meaning. 

"No worries," he writes, has supplanted "you're welcome" and "no problem." And then he opined on that weightiest of phrases: "It is what it is." Bruni took umbrage with what he described as a phrase that can relieve us of "coming to a conclusion, forming an opinion, developing an action plan."

It is a columnist's prerogative to weigh in on things that seem silly and irrelevant and dissect the whys of them. Waste of space, maybe, especially in the vaunted New York Times? 

It is what it is. 

I overuse the phrase myself, often in response to a thought or action that I'm either too tired to contemplate or don't have an answer for. And I use it with my mother when she repeats bromides about how things aren't the way they used to be, why jeans have holes in them, why kids don't know cursive. 

What it is, is this: a way for me to avoid disagreement. A subject changer. A surrender. 

What many people in my circle already know is that my mother's words can be a test of the English language; a linguistic train wreck; a vernacular minefield; a mother tongue, if you will, that can end up as twisted as the tree lights you carelessly packed away while taking down the Christmas decorations last year.

Try untangling them, and, well, you will surrender, tossing them haphazardly into the box again. Try understanding my mom's frequent sayings, if you haven't already been exposed, and her thoughts may resemble a string of lights that just won't blink.

Here's a sample, starting with my favorite:

Don't just stand there with your teeth in your mouth: This I've deduced means, move your ass, as my mom might put if she wanted to employ a shorter sentence. Often spoken to us when we dallied before doing chores. Has nothing to do with dental work.

They'll see you coming and going in that: This means one should avoid certain clothing that would draw too much attention, except maybe on Halloween. Has no relation to entrances and exits. 

If they don't like it, they can lump it. Sometimes means "that's too bad," or, as we often said as kids, "tough noogies." (I believe that phrase dates to the '70s.) The origin of lump, in her usage, I cannot fathom.  

Other turns of phrase are random and arbitrary. Touring a historic mansion recently, mom asked the docent if anyone had thought of turning the home into a "bed, bath and beyond." I believe she meant a bed and breakfast, not a retailer. It is moments like these when I gently redirect her, usually out the nearest door.

She recently asked me why people order so much food from Jordache. She meant Door Dash, of course. (Again, the '70s: As a teen, I always pined for a pair of Jordache jeans.)     

Back to the columnist. I waited for him to mention the phrase: "I know, right?" We use that one often when we mean, "I hear ya" or "Couldn't agree more" or "No doubt about it."

Call it lazy shorthand: Mom's shorthand is far from lazy, just bumbling and sometimes incomprehensible, like a doddy professor who's taught one semester too many of The Canterbury Tales.

But no worries. It is what it is, and in mom's case, not likely to change. 

If you get my drift.

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