Columnist John Katsilometes: Our lives are a bit vagueish

Monday, July 3, 2000 | 8:44 a.m.

John Katsilometes is the Sun assistant features editor. His column appears Mondays. Reach him at kats@lasvegassun.com or 259-2327.

I did it again last week. I told my boss I was leaving to interview a clown (insert your own County Commission joke here) and announced, "I'll be back around noonish."

When I reached the parking lot I thought, "Noonish? What does that mean? Am I coming back at noon or not?" To be more precise I should've said, "I'm planning on being back by noon. But it might be a little earlier, 11:45, or later, 12:15."

I then realized I'm an "Ishian," a slave to the comfort of "ish." I easily could've told my boss, "I'll be back by noon," but tossing in my "ish" allowed me some stress-relieving wiggle room.

The benefit of living the Ishian lifestyle is that the time frame of "ish" is established solely by me. When I said, "I'll be back around noonish," it was with verve and confidence. I might as well have pronounced, slamming my fist on my desk, "There shall be no question I will return around noonish!"

Being an Ishian, I knew instinctively I could return at 1:30 and feel I hadn't been late because my "Ish Zone" has about a three-hour buffer: 90 minutes prior to and 90 minutes after the targeted time (depending on variables, such as whether the traffic is heavyish or my fuel tank is running lowish).

Whence did the "ish" syndrome originate? Terms such as "standoffish" and "feeling fluish" -- are you or are you not suffering from the flu? -- are to blame. Such references provided the opportunity to turn fuzzy about everything from age ("I'm only going to tell you I'm thirtyish") to ethnicity (Adrian Zmed is kind of Greekish).

Proud of our vagaries, Ishians have made "ish" a necessary component in our professional and personal lives. Example: For most, New Year's Eve climaxes Dec. 31, precisely when the second hand hits the 12 at midnight.

For Ishians, the new year begins around twelvish.

A baby's due date is usually pinned down to the very day -- April 26. But for Ishians it's late-Aprilish, early-Mayish.

There's a lot of "ish" to be found around town. The Eiffel Tower at Paris seem a bit dwarfish. The volcano at the Mirage? Fakeish. Shows by Cirque du Soleil? Out-thereish. The Desert Inn, in recent months? Emptyish.

Lounge legend Cook E. Jarr? Leatherish.

Some elder Ishians, wizened through decades of living in vague bliss, have forged imaginative applications for their Ish Zones. A great aunt might want to visit around Novemberish. A couple might sense a lucky streak and become bingoish, or may want to spend the night at home, feeling friskyish.

President Clinton is the chief Ishian. Sometimes he's sort of truthfulish; other times he's borderline waffleish. His weight is up and down (plumpish to thinish) and his hair color comes and goes (grayish to brownish).

Al Gore is stiffish and, in his zeal to raise money, too monkish. George W. Bush's "ish" qualities are still somewhat undefinable. Smirkish? Dopeish? His father is bookish but, tragically, inherently geekish. But Barbara is sweet, even grandmotherish.

Which reminds me, I need to call the family soon. I told them I'd be in touch, around early Julyish. They'll understand.