After much thought, I have selected clowdy as the Y word of the year. Showoffy is the runner-up, mainly because its double-f visually reifies its meaning (think of that poem about the giraffes and their necks and the fs).
Clowdy doesn't do performance art, but it is pleasing to the eye and the ear (I'm a softy for cl words), and I might consider having a New Year's Eve dinner party in its honor, down in Atlantis, and inviting all the mythical beasts, some of whom would be wearing their softest cardigans.
So: that's the word of the year, and this is the next-to-last day of this blog. It's been trivial, yes, but, bizarrely, it's been a joy in the idiosyncratic way blogs written by ordinary people and ostensibly devoted to suffixes are a joy.