This post will serve purely to mollify the intense guilt (or is it regret?) I am feeling for having missed one day of my promised postaday February. The voice in my head that won out last night was the lazy one; the one telling me that readers could really use a break from me. After all, it is probably a sense of fraternity that brings people here to read or perhaps a curiosity as to whether I’ll be mentioning testicles yet again that I attribute to a remarkably healthy readership. (As in, anyone). Also, I’m afraid of having the reputation of someone who doesn’t honor their commitments this close to the most hallowed of all holidays.
If you’ve never experienced a lingual fetish around a certain syllable, then the following will probably be of no interest to you.
I love sound of the “L” as Russians say it; especially when saying my name; especially when the speaker is female. There is probably a Linguist’s term for this syllable but as an L sound with the tongue sticking too long to the bottom of mouth and causing a darkening of speaker’s voice. So my name comes out: Mee-gue-oo-ull. Brrrrrr! Cold Stone Slavic Sexy. The Mallorquines also have this particular L sound in their palette, albeit less sexy, more girl-next-door. They used to call me Miquelette (Mee-ke-ullll-et)
On a related note: Also love how the Brazilians pronounce the name of their country: Not an L at all
Brazilian Portuguese is so beautiful, I wish to learn it one day.