LEND ME YOUR EAR: WOULD THE MOTHER TAPE CHILD INSIDE NOTEBOOK?

To lace words together in ways that render their meaning clear is an art. On a rainy Monday morning a short while back, a weatherman declared: "Everybody doesn't like a rainy Monday."

Everybody? Time was when I prayed for rain after a lazy Sunday in the hope of keeping drop-in callers away until I'd spent two profitable hours at my desk. What the forecaster meant was that no one likes a rainy Monday. His attitude was clearer than his message.

On a recent broadcast from Capitol Hill, a networker announced: "The Senate approved the bill, and now the House." Did the Senate approve the House in addition to the bill? It seems unlikely, in view of the rabid exchanges between incumbents.

Not long ago, "Wheel of Fortune" displayed a photograph of "an eye-arresting man's diamond ring" -- a grand prize for some lucky contestant. I've met eye-arresting men in my time, but few to whom my face proved as arresting as the finger indicating my marital status.

On a TV feature about public education, a high school principal averred that "all kids can't learn." Wasn't he risking his neck with parents and school boards, to say that all school-age children are dummies? What he wanted to say was that some learn more slowly than others.

"An expanded kids' playroom" was shown on a TV commercial a few weeks ago. In what way were the youngsters expanded? The playroom was pictured, but the actors must have been out gorging on pizza and triple-dip ice cream cones.

From a high school guidance counselor, a roomful of students having diverse backgrounds received this advice: "If you want something bad, go for it." The counselor was trying to convince his charges that if they wanted something badly enough, they should persevere. Pity the foreign exchange students or aliens in the class who failed to understand why they should want something bad.

In the Sept. 19 issue of The New Yorker, we read of a professor who had given up his post at New York City College to teach remedial writing to young people unable to meet admission standards. The author of the article, himself an accomplished wordsmith, wrote of one of the students: "Yesenia sat in class staring dreamily of a picture of her 2-year-old daughter Taisha, which she had taped on an inside page of her notebook."

Poor Taisha, smashed to the thickness of a page when her mother closed the notebook! Alas, even top-flight scribes have bad writing days.

Some weeks ago, I read that a blue 26-inch boy's 10-speed bicycle had been stolen. Could a 26-inch boy of any color ride a bicycle of any speed?

A high-class clothing store promotes "good-looking boys' suits." If the boys are Ugly Man contestants, is their patronage unacceptable?

On a TV special about a community infested with rats, an eager young reporter said the town wiped them out with methane gas. Enlarging on the subject, the speaker added: "They lit it on fire."

With apologies to Dave Barry, I did not make this up. As I wrote in a column earlier and a young lady named Shelly still remembers, I never use "lit" for "lighted" because a man who is "lit" is a drunk. Nor would I add flame to anything that was already on fire.

An Associated Press article about an eruption of Mt. Vesuvius informed readers that "even a medium-size eruption could destroy an area in which one million people live within 15 minutes or less." If that many people have so little time left, what does it matter? The New York correspondent meant an eruption of medium size could destroy them within 15 minutes or less. He was probably faced with a deadline.

But look who's facing this typewriter. I have two weeks in which to write and revise a single column, and often, my Girl Friday, mother of Shelly, has to wait for me to change yet another word or phrase.

Aileen Lorberg is an author of long standing, and a columnist for the Southeast Missourian.