WalkAide issues: ink and mink

I have purchased a WalkAide System to help minimize foot-drop related to my diagnosis of multiple sclerosis. So far, the device is working well.

Next on my Walkaide to-do list is to get a few simple, yet elegant tattoos on my lower right leg to help me place the device correctly so that it will function properly. (If the electrodes are not in the right place, the device won’t work.)

I’m considering two options for the tattoos. Either small dots that look like freckles or small stars placed to look like a constellation, such as the Big Dipper. The first would probably be less painful, while the second seems more creative. It’s a difficult choice, but nonetheless, I plan to be inked by the end of the week.

One of my favorite things about the WalkAide is that I can wear attractive shoes again — not the el-dorko kind that you wear when you use a leg brace, which I did for many years. (If you are interested in a good deal on some slightly used el-dorko shoes, just holler.)

I am also working to resolve a Walkaide-related fashion challenge. I purchased and wore capris with the device this summer, but the legs of most long pants aren’t big enough to wear a Walkaide inside them.  I don’t own any palazzo pants or long skirts. They’re just not my style, but maybe it’s time to get some.

Even in the Deep South, where I live, the clichéd frost is already on the pumpkin, and this Halloween weekend is the coldest I can remember. I need winter clothes — skirts and pants, because I will move my capris from the closet to the cedar chest soon. I don’t consider bare calves with goosebumps in November to be a fashion-forward option.

Might I receive an invitation to a fancy holiday soiree this year? It’s possible. I guess I should put some thought into getting gussied up in a fancy outfit. And maybe, I should go ahead and plan to borrow a mink coat from a friend, just in case.

(NOTE: If this post interests you, you might want see my previous posts about the Walkaide System.)

Baby-head and brother make ‘lifestyle change’

My friend asked me if I realized that my cat, Scout, was obese.

“No, not really,” I answered. “I just thought she had a little head.”

Since that time, my friend has made fun of my cats because they are what I like to call a “tad bit” overweight.

Ten years ago, I adopted two kittens from the local pound. Not the shelter, mind you, but the pound — that scary-looking building over by the airport.

When I got the kittens home and fed them, they gobbled up their food  in record time and looked at me as if to ask, “Don’t we get more?”

Five years later, Scout weighed in at 15 pounds and Jem, who is part Maine Coon, was up to 20.

So, my veterinarian recommended that I start feeding them extremely expensive, prescription-only diet cat food. I fed them the diet food as directed (I promise!) for nearly a year, but neither cat dropped even a single pound.

So I did what any self-respecting cat owner would do in that situation. I ditched the diet cat food and found a new vet, one who suggested that I not worry about the cats’ weight as long as they are healthy.

I adopted her words as my new feline-nutrition philosophy, and I am pleased to report that five years later, they are still healthy. And even though I feed Scout and Jem only the amount of cat food recommended on the bag, they are still a “tad bit” overweight.

In recent years, they have even become somewhat sensitive about their girth. They now frown on my use of the “D” word and prefer that I refer to their revised eating habits as a “lifestyle change.”

The top 10 reasons why living with a cat is better than living with a man

1. Cats are less demanding.
2. Cats rarely win arguments.
3. Cats don’t expect you to cook their food.
4. Cats sleep at the foot of the bed.
5. Cats groom themselves.
6. Cats cuddle for the sake of cuddling.
7. Cats are easily house trained.
8. Cats love you even when you wear your granny panties.
9. Cats die sooner.
10. My cat has been neutered.

Who is Cooter Brown?

We Southerners talk differently than other people. I’m not talking about Southern accents. I’m talking about Southern words and expressions. They are different from words other people use. Not better. Not worse. Just different.

Other people go over to their neighbors’ and friends’ houses and see them. Southerners visit. Other people look ugly. Southerners look marvelous, but we can act ugly. When Southerners say somebody “showed their butt,” we don’t mean it literally. We mean they made an ass of themselves. Other people get drunk as a skunk. But some Southerners get drunk as Cooter Brown.

Who is Cooter Brown?

The Urban Dictionary says “Cooter Brown is a name used in metaphors and similes for drunkenness, mostly in the southern United States. Cooter Brown supposedly lived on the line which divided the North and South during the American Civil War, making him eligible for military draft by either side. He had family on both sides of the line, so he did not want to fight in the war. He decided to get drunk and stay drunk for the duration of the war so that he would be seen as useless for military purposes and would not be drafted. Inebriety has been measured against Cooter Brown’s extended binge ever since by use of the metaphors ”as drunk as Cooter Brown’ or ‘drunker than Cooter Brown.'”

Wikipedia has a similar story — and another version. This other version says that “”Cooter Brown was a biracial man (Half Cherokee, Half Black) who lived in south Louisiana on a small plot of land given to him by an old Cajun fur trapper. Cooter lived alone in the old Cajun’s shack. When the civil war broke out, Cooter didn’t want to choose sides, because he didn’t know who might win. He didn’t like people much and was fearful of either side. Because of this, Cooter, who was a heavy drinker anyway, began drinking all the time. Cooter always dressed like an Indian so as to confirm the fact that he was an Indian and not a Negro. And as such, he was a free man. Whenever soldiers (Yanks or Rebels) showed-up in the area they would always find him drunk. Oftentimes he’d offer the soldiers a drink. Word began to spread about the crazy, drunken Indian named Cooter Brown. By the time the war ended, Cooter couldn’t stop drinking if he had wanted to. One night his shack caught fire and burned completely to the ground. When locals investigated the burned site the next day there was nothing that remained of Cooter’s body. They surmised that old Cooter had so much alcohol in him that he had just burned up. Since then Cooter Brown has been synonymous with inebriety.”

Do you have a favorite Southernism that you’d like to see posted on this blog? If you do, send it to me and I’ll post the best ones in “Southernisms,” Part Two.

In my ‘heart of hearts’? You’re kidding, right?

In my heart of hearts

Redundancies are one of my pet peeves, as in the oft-used phrase, “in my heart of hearts.” Now, where exactly would that be? Is there really another, smaller heart inside my heart? If so, it’s news to me. And to my doctor.

I recall, however, that this expression is a line from Shakespeare’s play The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, in which the title character says, “Give me that man that is not passion’s slave, and I will wear him in my heart’s core, ay, in my heart of hearts as I do thee.” Hamlet’s heart of hearts is a reference to the center of  his heart, the most tender region of his affection, which he reserves for those who– like his friend Horatio — are governed by reason, not passion.

Hoping against hope

What about “hoping against hope”? I’m confused. How exactly does one go about hoping against hope? Sounds like an oxymoron to me. But what do I know?

Some say this hackneyed phrase means to hope very strongly that something will happen, although you know it is not very likely. Wait a minute. To hope for what? I don’t buy it. It just doesn’t make sense.

All is not for naught

And who can forget my all-time fave, “all is not for naught”? I have read that “all for naught” means that something is all for nothing. Taking that assumption one step further, “all is not for naught” would mean all is not all for nothing. What? I believe my mother used to call that a double negative. Which makes it a positive. But don’t get me started.

Anyway, I’m not entirely satisfied with the explanations offered for these three idioms. On second thought, I will accept the explanation for the first phrase, because, after all, it is the Bard. But the other two? Not on your life.

However, when I’m feeling particularly festive, I like to string them together in a sentence and speak them aloud, so as not to forget how ridiculous they sound. I try to say it like I really mean it: “In my heart of hearts, I’m hoping against hope that all is not for naught.”

The first rule of Southern English: Y’all is plural

Why do people who aren’t from around here use the word “y’all” incorrectly? As I am feeling a strong urge to help those people speak Southern English the right way, I am hereby providing an explanation of the proper use the word “y’all.”

The first part of the explanation is easy to understand. “You” is singular, and “y’all” is plural. Simple enough, right? Well, here’s where it gets a little more complicated. You see, there’s second plural form of “y’all.”  It’s “all y’all.” I have officially named it the “double plural.”

Below are three hints to help you speak proper Southern English in a New Orleans minute.

1. If you are one person to whom I am speaking, I will refer to you as “you.”  (If you’re talking to me and only me, please don’t call me “y’all.” If you do, I will know immediately that your family comes from north of the Mason-Dixon Line.)

2. If you are in a group of two or more people to whom I am speaking, I will refer directly to all of the members of that group as “y’all.”

3. If you are in a group of two or more people to whom I am speaking and if, at the same time, I am speaking to another group of two or more people, I will refer collectively to all of the members of both groups as “all y’all.”

For example:

“Would you like to have lunch on Monday?” (I’m speaking to one person.)

“Would y’all like to come to the house for dinner after church on Sunday?” (I’m speaking to a group of people.)

“Would all y’all like to come to the house for Thanksgiving dinner this year?” (I’m speaking to my sister and brother-in-law, who are sitting in the den with me watching a college football game on the big-screen television, while at the same time, I’m speaking to my mom ‘n’ ’em, who are sitting at the dining-room table, talking amongst themselves.)

NOTE: The second rule of Southern English has to do with your mom ‘n’ ’em. I’ll tell all y’all about it in a future post.

‘Abandon hopefully all ye who enter here’

I know it’s the obsessive editor inside me saying this, but believe I have a closer relationship with words than most other people do. And I have strong opinions about words. There are words I really like, and there are words I dislike immensely. The words discussed below are three of the many examples that fall into the latter category.

Utilize: “The Elements of Style” by William Strunk Jr. and E. B. White sums it up nicely by saying “Prefer use.”  I say, why use a long, ugly-looking word when a shorter, more attractive one will do?

Via: The word means “by way of” in a geographical sense, as in “I flew to Paris via London.” I don’t have a problem with that usage, but I wince when I see it used incorrectly, as in, “The severest type of attack would entail simultaneous, accurate, dispersed delivery, via missiles or bombers, of nuclear weapons.” (From “The Careful Writer” by Theodore M. Bernstein) And to be honest, I don’t think it’s an attractive word, and it wouldn’t bother me a bit if we all just all used “by way of” instead.

Hopefully:  According to “The Elements of Style,” this adverb that means “with hope” and is also used widely — and incorrectly — to mean “I hope” or “It is to be hoped,” as in “Hopefully, I”ll leave on the noon plane.” Does that sentence mean that you will leave on the noon plane in a hopeful frame of mind or that you hope you will leave on the noon plane? Whichever you mean, you haven’t said it clearly. I just don’t like this word. I had sign in my office that summed up that point of view. It read “Abandon hopefully all ye who enter here.” (My apologies to Dante Alighieri.)

What word do you dislike immensely? Send me a comment about a word you dislike and why you don’t like it, and I will include it in a future post.

‘Only two things that money can’t buy. That’s true love and homegrown tomatoes.’

I didn’t care one way or another about gardening until I moved into my first home and considered landscaping alternatives. I knew I didn’t want to waste water. I knew I didn’t want to use a lot of chemical fertilizer. And I knew I didn’t want to spend untold hours dealing with the horrors of  double-digging in the hot sun and other labor-intensive gardening techniques.

First, I learned that if you select plants that are native to your area, your garden will thrive with less work, less water and fewer chemicals.

Second, I discovered heirloom, or heritage, plants. They aren’t natives, but they are easy to grow. Heirloom plants, such as those big-ole rose bushes that smelled so good and bloomed all summer in your grandmother’s backyard, tend to be low maintenance.

Third, I decided to grow perennials, not annuals — especially perennial fruits and vegetables. (If you have never gardened, “perennial” plants come back year after year without replanting, while “annuals” are replanted.)

So I don’t grow tomatoes. However, if you just have to grow some tomatoes, I understand. (Remember the lyrics to the old Guy Clark song: “Only two things that money can’t buy, that’s true love and home-grown tomatoes”?) But if I grew tomatoes, I think that I would grow heirloom tomatoes (more flavor) in pots (less labor-intensive).I grow blueberries and asparagus instead, and I’ve also grown strawberries. Edible or not edible, I think  perennials are the way to go.

The rest of my gardening posts will include pictures of and information about plants I have grown. (Please note that these plants were grown or are being grown in the southeastern U.S.)

‘The new stylebook’s here!’

I jumped up and down, and shouted, “The new stylebook’s here! The new stylebook’s here! … This is the kind of spontaneous publicity that makes people!”

No one heard me. My cats didn’t even bother to look up from their nap. I realized that if I’d had any sort of life back in 1979 when the movie, “The Jerk,” came out, I wouldn’t have been able to make that oblique reference to the zany Steve Martin movie in response to the snail-mail arrival of my new Associated Press Stylebook.

I guess I’m just easily amused. I am embarassed to admit that haven’t bought a new stylebook since 1994, and the new one has two new sections — one on social media and one on food.

I understand the need for a section on social media. But food? Why food? I scanned the entries in that section, learning amazing things such as the need to capitalize the “E”on “English muffin.” Now that’s some serious AP Stylebook trivia. Did you know that “corn dog” is two words? Or that “potpie” is one? And … wait for the drumroll … there is even an AP Recipe Style.

Has food writing expanded exponentially since last I perused a copy of Southern Living? Guess so.

That’s just great. One more thing  to be behind the curve on. I’m finding it difficult to keep up with what the young folks are up to these days.

3 things to consider before becoming a freelance writer

After nearly 25 years of selling my soul to the devil previously known as corporate America, I am proud to proclaim that I am now a freelance writer. I write news releases. I write newsletters. I am even working on a book. (Isn’t everyone?)

But I will warn you up front. If you think you want to chuck it all and become a freelance writer, you might want to read this and weigh the pros and cons before you decide:

First, know that writers write because they love to write, not because it pays well. The odds that it will make you wealthy are not in your favor. If you are already independently wealthy, then that’s to your advantage. It that’s not the case, you should  keep your day job until you can retire with benefits or until you publish a book that sells well and gets good reviews, whichever comes first. And if that’s not depressing enough, have a bite of this: Only one to four percent of writers get published, and only two percent of those get rich.

Second, a freelance writer can choose who to work with. For example, you can choose to work only for people whose company you enjoy. That’s what I do. It’s a lot less stressful than working with people whom you can’t stand to look at for one more millisecond, let alone eight hours a day, five days a week, for most of your life. In my book (if I had published a book), working as a freelance writer would always win out over climbing the corporate ladder. Putting up with all of those drama queens and queen bees (male and female) day in and day out can cause spontaneous combustion.

Third on my list  — and I think this should be a federal law —  freelance writers should not have to get out of bed before 8 am unless they have been contacted personally by Homeland Security or Publishers Clearinghouse. I say, if you don’t have to get up before  8 to take a shower, wash your hair, eat breakfast, blow-dry your hair, put on a “suit,” apply make-up and fight the traffic to get to work, then why do you need to get up? And if you have to get up later in the day to meet a deadline or three, you can always work in your pajamas. (Major perk!) You can wear your pajamas all day long, as long as you don’t have any face-to-face meetings with your clients, your editor or your agent. (It could happen.) I just throw on a bathrobe to go outside and bring in the newspaper. Or better yet, I read the newspaper on-line, and then I don’t have to leave the house at all.