Bubbly

If effervescence is defined (as per Wikipedia - yeah, I know, don't get me started - it is) as the escape of gas from an aqueous solution and the foaming/fizzing resulting from the escaping gas, then how on earth did that come to intimate vivacious or lively? Vivacious and lively are both positive attributes aren't they? Sure, I get that the term comes from champagne, which is supposed to be effervescent and that's a good thing, too.

Or is it? I mean. There are sayings like "All foam, no beer". That's not a compliment. And I suspect it's just a thing in the US, but champagne bears the stigma of being a 'sissy' drink. Hold over from Prohibition when our fore bearers were willing to risk blindness or death in the pursuit of some really crappy gin? Or some kind of racist commentary on a sometimes politically prickly relationship with champagne's country of origin?

Or is it the notion that anything bubbly and light-hearted must lack substance, whether we're talking about alcohol or about people? Come to think of it, has anyone ever heard of a male described as effervescent? Or is it an adjective reserved for women - one that sounds like it ought to be a compliment, but actually isn't because it focuses on her bubbly, and ultimately lacking in substance, personality?

How on earth does a word describing the escape of gas from an aqueous solution twist into something with potent and subtle sexist undertones? Language, no to mention the human race, is so twisted. Maybe I need a drink. Of bubbly.

Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Effervescent (FlashFic)

by Allison Pang

Another bit of flash fiction for the subject of the week. :)

OOO

The boat shimmied on the line, pulling at the ropes like a fierce horse as the waves shunted it away from the docks. I could only watch in silence.

The Effervescent Mermaid was my father’s, a downeast cruiser of ramshackle paint and a host of memories all wrapped within the scent of brine and dead fish. The lobster traps hung useless at the sides, dreaming of crustaceans and covered in a smattering of barnacles.

And I?

I had no dreams. No wish to feed my family upon the whims of the sea.

From where I stood, I couldn’t see the shrouded body of my father, nestled in the bosom of his beloved boat, rocking to a lullaby he could no longer hear. But if I cocked my head just so, I almost saw the old man, nut-brown and stooped and smiling at the white-caps in the distance.

The rope whined beneath the strain of an impatient current.

Time, time it sang.

I sliced the rope, watching only until the boat began to drift. For a moment it was as if the boat were the anchor and the dock was afloat, bobbing and whirling me into some distant place.

“Aye, then,” I whispered and turned away.

Dreams. Death.

The tide could take them both.

Plop, Plop, Fizz, Fizz

I know, I know. I'm all about earworms and nostalgic videos lately. Well, guess what? I ain't changin' this week, not with a word like "Effervescent."

If you're too young to recognize the song, then call me Professor 'cause it's past time you learned Alka-Seltzer's catchy ditty for combating gas and headaches.

Yep. You're welcome!

Effervescence

This is the crab apple tree in our secret garden. It's mainly a secret because there are high walls around it and the access is a bit counter-intuitive, e.g., via the garage. One day when I have the money to remodel, I want to install double french doors in the kitchen to look out on the garden. Otherwise, the garden is really visible only through the kitchen window.

Right now, this tree fills the view.

This tree.


This tree is effervescent with bloom, iridescent with color. She shimmers and bubbles, frothing and overflowing the goblet of her setting.

The sight fills me with sheer pleasure, like the coldest champagne, scalding in its intensity. The best kind, where the effervescence truly emerges from the liquid, not forced in carbonation from the outside.

True effervescence arises from within, from the juice of life, popping into the sky, saturating the world.