Let's talk gooey. Gooey is one of
those great words that encompasses a whole range of tactile and taste
sensations. When something is gooey it's a little bit wet and a little bit sticky.
Not sticky like your skin feels on
humid day. But sticky like tacky. A more viscous and yet resistant sort of
sticky.
Viscosity is a term that describes
slipperiness. But a fluid's viscosity is actually a measure of its resistance
to gradual deformation by shear stress. Which is to say that honey is more
viscous than water.
So is motor oil. But it's better to
use it in your engine than water since at high temperatures water boils away.
Anyhow, while motor oil may be slick and sometimes sticky we rarely refer to it
as gooey. Gooey is usually reserved for edible sticky things. Like honey. Or
the hot fudge on a hot fudge sundae.
Gooey is also usually reserved for
sweeter items. Honey is gooey. Gravy is not. One does not wax rhapsodic about
the gooeyness of a lovely dish of mashed potatoes and gravy.
Likewise ketchup. Slow enough to
challenge the patience of a fairbooth burger eater it's still not normally
included in the list of preferred gooeys.
Remember too, that gooeyness has to
maintain a certain liquidity. Slick stickiness alone is not the defining
factor. Too much solidity and gooey becomes gummy.
So given those facts; sweetness,
stickiness, a touch of runniness. Why did we name the largest clam in the
northwest a gooey-duck? Yes, I know it’s spelled G-E-O-duck. But we don't
pronounce it like a defunct Chevy division product. Only newbees to Washington
call them Geo-ducks.
But we all should. Because the
not-so appetizing picture I get of a gooey duck conjures up roadkill, sugar,
and blenders.
America, ya gotta love it.
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