English is an odd language in many ways, perhaps most prominently in the illogical area of "prepositional idioms." I'll show you what I mean. But first some background.

Two years ago my family and I moved to Coeur d'Alene from the Los Angeles area. Once here, we rushed to remove the evidence - our license plates - as soon as possible. I miss only one thing from my Los Angeles life: Trader Joe's. I should say I "used" to miss it because Trader Joe's has recently come to Spokane's "South Hill." My only difficulty now is that I don't know what to say when telling someone how to get there, even though I know it's on 29th Street.

Here's the linguistic problem. The South Hill area of Spokane is "up" relative to the rest of the city. It's a hill, higher in elevation than what is below it, and that's "up." Yet it is "down" in the sense that "south," the direction, is routinely thought of as "down." Perhaps reflecting a Northern Hemisphere bias, the conventional expression is that we go "down" when visiting New Orleans, or for that matter, Walla Walla. We travel "up" to British Columbia. Australia is the land "down under." The Arctic is "up."

But it gets stickier. When we greet each other, we ask, "What's up?" Someone looks sad. We ask, "Why are you down?" We seek "after" solutions. As we drive toward a distant freeway sign in our cars we eventually "make out" the words - at what point depends on our eyesight, age, or both. Adolescents "make out" in the back seat of parked cars. And if a cop, or the girl's father, comes by, the boy won't "make out" very well. At that point, he'll do well to escape without a ticket and/or a black eye.

This area of language is problematic because there is no sense to the way we attach prepositions to verbs in many instances. Hence, grammarians speak of these forms as "idiomatic." They follow no rules; they are laws unto themselves. The idioms have developed over centuries in the history of the language, rather like duck-billed platypuses have developed in biology: The platypus and prepositions are equally preposterous. Prepositional idioms must be memorized; they cannot be explained. But they do have meaning to the trained ear. Misuse one of them, and the native speaker is likely to laugh at you, or if gracious, provide correction.

Some prepositional idioms are clear. The directional prepositions that derive from the conventional way of displaying a map make at least some sense. On a map, north is, literally, at the top and south is at the bottom. Equally sensible is that we go "away" from something, a person or a place. Less sensible is that we move "away" from a problem or a situation. It's sensible to say that we go "into" a room. Equally sensible, that we throw a ball "through" the window. These have meanings based on dictionary definitions. But for totally unknown reasons we also go "through" an experience, go "for" an opportunity or the Hail Mary pass, and we lose "out" if we don't succeed. Back to, with, in or toward (?) Trader Joe's.

This now widespread chain of grocery-fruit-nut-wine-and-unique-concoction stores started near, around or at (?) my previous backdoor, South Pasadena, over (really? - how does one go "over" a time period?) 30 years ago. The chain then spread like kudzu or like a virus - can't think of a positive simile right now, so vexed am I by this preposition problem. Trader Joe's stores have sprouted up - in, across, through, over -all parts of the country where the population is college-educated, votes for the Green Party, or drives Volvos. It caters to the yuppie demographic or anyone in the market for cheap vitamins, cheap health food or cheap booze, and likes to believe they're saving the environment by using Trader Joe's trademark brown paper bags with those marvelously sturdy handles.

But no store was located around, at, near here until one opened recently in Spokane.

We still await a store in Coeur d'Alene. I trust one will arrive soon, since the supply-line can now be economically justified for another 30 miles east. But in the meantime, the one on the South Hill presents two challenges. First, how does one avoid the Los Angeles-sized crowds, now that the area's long period of Trader Joe's addict-like deprivation has been funneled into a single, relatively small outlet, like the freeways leading to Dodger Stadium on game day? Second, and more important to my point: What do you say when telling someone how to get there? The directional conundrum is acute. Does one go "up" Freya, then "down" 29th? Does one go "down" or "up" to the South Hill as a general matter? Does it depend on whether you are coming from Riverside Avenue or Deer Park, the latter being "down" by altitude but "up" relative to the north/south/map convention?

So, to return to the ultimate issue: Is the store "up" or is it "down"? Those living in the shadow of the South Hill go "up" in elevation but "down" south in direction. Altitudinal distance is "up" when increasing and "down" when decreasing. But south is "down." Right?

I give up.

At least we in Coeur d'Alene have some relief. From this point we don't have to commit to a grammatical position. We can deflect the issue. We can all go over to Trader Joe's. Neither "up" nor "down." The tasty sesame sticks and seasoned nuts are all that really matter.

Karl Kime is a local attorney and grammar fanatic.