Writing Life

September 6, 2012

Rebooting Myself After The Great Computer Crash: You Gotta Back That Thang Up

It’s not like there weren’t signs. There were. I just wanted Mac to make it to my son’s bar mitzvah. I promised…

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July 13, 2012

Ghosts Made Me Start This Blog

I figure it’s time to tell you why I started this blog in the first place….

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May 1, 2012

Happy Blogoversary to Me & Other Cool Stuff

It’s my blogoversary month, and I have some serious cyberswag to share with my readers! …

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March 12, 2012

When Hashtags Take You to Dark Places

I unintentionally got into a conversation with an anorexic teenager on Twitter….

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February 4, 2012

Haters Gonna Hate: Twenty Months Later

The other day I got this piece of fan mail: It was written in response to a post that I wrote almost…

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January 30, 2012

Quick! Tell Me What To Do!

I’m working furiously on my fiction manuscript. I need an unusual name for a babysitter. Got any suggestions? Give me a name,…

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January 16, 2012

Create Your Own Super Hero Contest

El Farris is my writing partner. She kicks my butt and makes sure that I am writing. And then I kick her butt back….

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October 3, 2011

Unintentional Galloping

When I was in middle school, I took horseback riding lessons from folks who lived in a broken down old house but who took fantastic care of their horses. I was a quick study and easily learned how to get my horse to respond. I learned to give the appropriate kicks to get him to trot, to jump over logs, banks and ditches. I learned to canter, my favorite stride. After a while, I begged my instructor to teach me how to gallop. I was sure I was ready; she disagreed….

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September 19, 2011

The Hybrid Accent

I’ve spent most of my life above the Mason-Dixon line, but you would be amazed how five short years in N’awlins got all up in this East Coast girl’s upbringing and influenced my dialect!…

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I’ve been a little traumatized after recent events.

Turns out that it’s misery trying to post from an iPhone, and this whole waiting-for-my-new-computer-to-arrive thang is turning into a real drag.

Anyhoo, I thought you might get a kick out of my new best friend.

You all know Stewie, right?

Do you recognize my little buddy? My little pal?

He’s supposed to offer me some solace.

What?

You don’t understand how Stewie Griffin from The Family Guy is supposed to offer me peace of mind?

No, I know Stewie is completely obsessed with world domination as well as killing his mother.

Oh, wait! You must not recognize the most special part of my new best friend.

Meet 16-Gigabyte Stewie.

I figure if my new computer ever contemplates crashing, 16 GB Stewie will kick its electronic ass.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about, read about what happened here.

It could save your life.

Or at least your photos, your most important documents & your sanity.

Don’t be me.

What fun new gadgets have you been playing with?

Tweet this twit @rasjacobson

photo from mandyxclear @ flickr.com

It’s not like there weren’t signs.

There were.

I just wanted Mac to make it to my son’s bar mitzvah.

I promised Mac would be able to rest the very next day. So despite his advanced age, I pushed my computer to stay with me until June 23, 2012.

But then I heard Mountain Lion was coming out.

So I waited.

And all through July, I continued to pressure Mac to perform.

Even though I knew he was crashing.

Because he kept crashing.

Whenever Mac went down, I’d curse, get a snack and a drink, give him a few minutes to cool down, then I’d press the power button. And Mac would hum to let me know he wasn’t too furious, and he’d take me back to the lovely blue screen.

Until one day, he didn’t.

On Friday, August 24th, I held an 8 gig flash drive in my hand. I’d planned to back up all my files so I could transfer everything to the new computer, the one I was going out to buy – right after I had transferred all my files.

I was greeted by a white screen.

Reacting to Trouble

If you see this, you should probably start crying. Maybe.

After attempting to reboot several times, I put my face close to Mac’s LCD, and when I listened, I heard Mac making quiet beeping noises – like the countdown to some kind of nuclear detonation. After a moment, the icon of a dark gray file folder appeared in the center of the white screen. Centered inside the folder was an ominous flashing question mark.

Four hours later, I dragged the entire mess to a well-respected computer data retrieval professional. Several of us stood in a queue, holding our boxes and cables, the pieces-parts of our sundry devices. Looking grief-stricken, we spoke in hushed tones about the symptoms of our beloved electronics and dared to guess their prognoses.

When it was Mac’s turn to be seen, Lou performed all kinds of procedures.

Nothing worked.

Lou asked if he could hold onto my computer for 24 hours. He wanted to try one more test.

Of course, I agreed.

Anything to resurrect Mac long enough to extract his memories, my memories.

*weep*

As I waited to hear from Lou, I considered what I had potentially lost:

  • 20 years of English curricula
  • Irreplaceable letters of recommendation
  • The contact information for everyone I know
  • My calendar information
  • 34,000 songs uploaded from CDs (not purchased from iTunes)
  • Decades of photographs & videos

But by far the worst thing was the realization that I had lost my writing.

  • Over 400 poems
  • Twenty short stories
  • A full-length non-fiction memoir
  • And my current 400-page fiction manuscript, which was on the 2nd draft of revisions.

But you had backed things up, right?

All I can do is hang my head in shame.

No.

No, I didn’t.

And how stupid was that?

If you do not have at least one external hard drive, do yourself a favor and get one. Set it to back-up daily or, at least, weekly.

Several people tell me they keep one flash drive outside their homes, with friends or in a safe deposit box. That way, in the case of fire or flood, they feel secure knowing they still have a copy of their most beloved photographs and other hard to replace documents.

You mean you didn’t have Dropbox/iCloud?

Image representing Dropbox as depicted in Crun...
Image via CrunchBase

Both Dropbox and iCloud provide “invisible storage.” You  put your faith that someone else’s server is going to do a good job for you. Dropbox is a cool tool, but it is not meant to store thousands of photographs. When you sign up, the folks at Dropbox provide you with 2 GB of storage, but you have to remember to put your stuff in there. It isn’t automatic. Clearly, I’ve demonstrated that I’m not good about reliably saving my computer files, so if the whole backing-things-up doesn’t occur automatically, it might not happen at all for me.

As far as iCloud goes, even the folks at Apple will tell you iCloud is meant for saving text. iCloud isn’t great when it comes to large files like photographs or very large text files. So yes, iCloud is better than nothing – but an external hard drive is still better.

Signs That Your Computer is Dying

As I said earlier, there were indications that my beloved Mac was in trouble. And I ignored every single sign. Here are some of the most basic symptoms that will tell you that you need to back your stuff up and fast:

1.Lag. Remember when your computer was young and zippy? Me, too. I knew Mac had become slow and irritable over the years, but I never thought he’d just konk out on me. Lag is one of the very first signs that you need to have your computer looked at. Sometimes there are just a lot of duplicate files that need to be deleted. Sometimes there is dust inside your computer that needs to be cleaned out. If your computer is noticeably slower than it once was, bring it to a technician.

2. Noises. If your old girl is knocking around, making banging sounds or clicking sounds; or if you hear chirping noises — almost like birds — these are not good things. Also if it sounds like there is a small car inside your computer constantly revving up and then cooling down, you will want to back that thang up. Immediately. And then bring your computer to a technician.

You know? This.

3. The Spinning Wheel of Doom. Apple users are familiar with the circular icon that looks like you’ve just won at Trivial Pursuit. And it shows up once in a while. But as your computer gets older and fills with more stuff, you may start to see it more often and for longer durations. In my case, the freakin’ wheel was spinning for much longer than normal. I just accepted it. Meanwhile, I learned this is your computer’s way of screaming at you: “Doctor! Somebody get me a doctor! I have a serious problem!” Learn your computer’s language and listen to what it is trying to tell you.

4. Frequent crashing. If you are in the middle doing something and the application unexpectedly quits, this is not a good thing. Be sure to know how old your computer is. Apple warranties its computers for three years. Three years. There is a reason for that. The folks at Apple know how long these suckers their desktops are going to last. Mac’s warranty ended in March 2012. It died 5 months later. I was on borrowed time. FYI: Laptops can have a shorter life, depending on the way they are handled.

Moving Through The Stages of Loss

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross is well-recognized for her book On Death and Dying which explains the 5 stages of grief. Since I had been living in denial about Mac’s situation for so long, I quickly moved to anger. I was furious at myself for not buying a new computer, especially once Mountain Lion was released. I mean, seriously, what precisely was I waiting for? I screamed at my son for playing so much Minecraft because I was sure that was what had put the final nail in Mac’s coffin. Then I got mad at myself again for yelling at my son. But not before I accused my husband of being unhelpful because he didn’t insist that I get a new computer, especially when he knew I needed a new one.

I’d put the last of my hopes into Lou, who sent me this email 24 hours after I’d left Mac in his office.

Your drive has a fatal hardware failure. Most likely the bearings that the spindle rides on have seized, preventing the motor from turning the spindle. Recovery of the data from this drive is a tier 2 level of recovery which requires a clean room and a level of expertise I don’t have in-house.

However, I have an out-of-house recovery group that can do this work.  Let me know what you would like to do.

I’m not going to lie. For a week, I was in a funk. A person who is generally sparkly, I felt pretty sparked-out.

Like my formerly functioning computer, I shut down.

I didn’t realize how dependent I’d become on my Mac. Everything I needed was in one place. I didn’t know how I was going to rebuild. I could only see loss.

In reality, getting mad or feeling sad wasn’t going to bring Mac back.

Right when I was feeling my most lowly-low, I read Kristen Lamb’s piece Maturity – The Difference Between the Amateur and the Professional where she reminds writers that writing is hard work. Inadvertently, she reminded me that I had a choice in this situation. I could be a pee-pee head and keep crying about all that I had lost. I could quit. Or I could start creating again. I could view the death of my computer as an ending or a beginning.

I went and ordered a new iMac. (It should be here next week.)

To get me excited, my son designed a cool new header for my blog. (It’s not up yet.) And I’m working on some other updates to my blog, too.

So What About The Clean Room Thing? Are You Doing It?

I contacted that forensics data retrieval lab in Temple, Texas. If I agree, they will bury my computer in the ground and, just like in Stephen King’s Pet Cemetery, they will resurrect it. But they can’t guarantee that Mac won’t come back all weird and creepy and try to kill me.

Just kidding.

They aren’t going to bury Mac. The deal at ACS Data Recovery is this: I send them my hard drive, and if they can’t retrieve 100% of the information, the cost to me is $0. But if they can, the cost is 1.64 bajillion dollars.

I feel like I have to give it a whirl, to know that I tried everything.

Obviously, this post is about the death of my computer. And while I temporarily lost it, I think I’ve regained some perspective. I mean, we have food and shelter. I’m grateful that everyone in my life is healthy and as the Jewish High Holidays approach over the next few weeks, I will be thinking and writing about more than just my recent computer woes.

But this seemed like an opportunity to share something with everyone.

The hard drive nestled in the cardboard box on my kitchen table represents twenty years of my life. And, as a friend pointed out: “It isn’t the computer that has the value, it’s the stuff on our computers that is worth everything.”

If you take nothing else from this post, take this: If you have valuable things on your computer, things you cherish, please please please spend $125 and get yourself an external hard drive.

And don’t say you’ll do it tomorrow.

Do it today.

Now.

Because tomorrow could be your computer’s big crash.

What is one thing you’d be devastated to learn was gone if your computer died? Do you have an external hard drive? Can you recommend a good one? How often do you back-up? What method(s) do you use? Assuming you could get your computer files back, how much would you be willing to spend? 

Tweet this Twit @rasjacobson

People often ask me how I come up with my topics.
They ask if I ever suffer from writers’ block.
They ask if I will post naked pictures of myself.
But no one has ever asked me why I decided to start this blog.

Until Erin Margolin came along.

If you’d like to know the rest of the story and how ghosts are involved, follow me to Erin’s place.

And while you are there, check out her words. Girl has range.

It’s that time of the month year again!

Last year’s blogoversary rocked because the magnificent Julie C. Gardner wrote me this guest post.

And that, friends, was tremendous.

Before we move forward, I feel compelled to report some statistics.

First, there are only 54 days until my son’s bar mitzvah.

Can I get an “amen” right now? 😉

Thanks, I can feel the love already!

As I enter my third year in the blogosphere, I thought I would let you know some of the cool statistics I get to track.

To date, I have:

Written 360 posts (This is 361.)

Received 194,757 comments.

{And your comments are like delicious chocolates.  I eat them up. Nom nom nom.}

The post that still gets the most hits on a daily basis: In Fear of Lice. Strangely, that bugger gets over 70 views each day. And I wrote it back in June 2010. Go figure.

Another wildly popular post is In Praise of the Pencil, proving that people have an irrational love for Ticonderoga pencils. That one was written in June 2011.

Anyway, we are celebrating all month at Teachers and Twits.

I have Friday guest posts from El Farris, David N. Walker, Iris Zimmerman & Ellie Ann Soderstrom — so be on the look out for those because they rock!

Plus I have some serious cyberswag for y’all.

Y’all know how we play my 100% bogus word game on the last Monday of the month based on my love of the book THE MEANING OF TINGO: AND OTHER EXTRAORDINARY WORDS FROM AROUND THE WORLD? Well, I wanted to give one of those books away. But wouldn’t you know it is out of print! Whaaaat? How dare they? Well, I ordered a “like new” copy, so I should have that to send to the person who wins May’s Made-It-Up Monday.

My friend, author Kasey Mathews, is offering a copy of her new release PREEMIE. I got to read her memoir before it was even in book form, and all I can say is that this is a wonderful read for anyone who has had a difficult delivery — but especially for people who have given birth to preemies or micro-preemies. People who read this book will want to squeeze their children. PREEMIE reminds us that every day really is a miracle.

.

Author Elena Aitken is offering a download of her newest book SUGAR CRASH. I read it while I was on vacation. It is a must-read for anyone whose life has been impacted by Juvenile Diabetes. You will love Taylor and her mom, Darci.

World famous author Tyler Tarver is offering a download of his newest release LETTERS TO FAMOUS PEOPLE. There isn’t much I can say about Tyler without his wife coming to git me. Dude is hot. Also, he is a math teacher. Oh, he makes great videos and comes up with some of the funniest similes, metaphors and analogies ever. I’m not sure he even knows he is doing it. I didn’t think math people could write the way Tyler does. Wow, I think might be mathist. But I guess the first step is admitting I have a problem. So I will. I can’t do math. Did I mention Tyler is hot?

I have a HOTDOG YOGA rollpack for one lucky yogi in the house. That bit of awesome-sauce comes courtesy of my friend in real life friend, C.F.O. and big blogger, Michael Hess of Skooba Design. (I like this video that shows Michael suffering making a video the best.)

And oh yes! I have all these old New Years 2012 cards pretty stationery upon which I will write super creepy personalized messages to 3 lucky winners.

But as always, with unconditional love, there are strings attached. 😉

You’ll see as we go along!

So get psyched, my fellow twits.

It’s kind of going to be like THE HUNGER GAMES — except not at all like that. I don’t think anyone is going to have to die. Probably.

All winners will be determined by Random Number Generator and announced on June 1 (at which time there will be 22 days until my son’s bar mitzvah).

I should probably start exercising or something.

But let’s start with a little teaser right now.

Would you like to receive a special something from me? I have a copy of THE WRITE BRAIN WORKBOOK which features 366 writing exercises to help you exercise your creative writing muscles. Interested?

For one entry, answer the following question:

If we were to get together for a blogoversary lunch, where would we go, and what do you recommend I order?

For two additional entries: Tweet this post.

For three additional entries, Facebook share this post.

For five additional entries, mention my blogoversary on your own blog!

Just be sure to link back to this page.

For 20 additional entries, send a text message to my iPhone.

Just kidding. Don’t do that.

That’s weird.

Tweet this Twit @rasjacobson

The Twitterverse is usually a wonderful place.

Except when it’s not.

The other day I was looking for conversations about #teachers, and this post caught my eye:

I couldn’t help but reply:

I was trying to be funny.

Fayth didn’t think it was funny.

She read me the riot act.

She told me to stay out of her business.

Instead, I went and read her profile.

So I learned that Fayth is Faith.

And that she currently weighs 91 pounds.

But.

Her goal weight is 75 pounds.

Let me give you some perspective.

My son, Tech Support, is in 7th grade.

He is 5’3″ and weighs in at a whopping 88 pounds.

(He is like a walking skeleton. For reals. The kid is all elbows and knees.)

Anyway, I got worried.

The more I poked around, the more I could see that Fayth was struggling: with school and self-image. She admitted to cutting herself.

Something else was troubling Fayth, too. But she wouldn’t share, even when we shifted to direct messaging.

Fayth shares some disturbing images on her Twitter page. Pictures of her hipbones. Her ribs. Blood in a styrofoam cup. The food she eats (puffed wheat and diet cranberry juice). Directions about the fast she was on.

I tried to tell her that her photos and her words caught my attention.

That she scared me.

We private messaged for a little while.

She shared so little.

She is used to withholding.

I did lots of typing.

For a few days, Fayth disappeared from Twitter altogether.

But the other day, I saw this post:

So now I know this high school student weighs less than my son.

And today, I saw this:

I let her know I’m still here.

If she needs someone to rant to, there’s a stranger who cares.

Honestly, I don’t know what to do with this information.

I wish I knew where Fayth/Faith lived because I would drive over to her house and sit on the floor with her. I would be quiet and let her cry. Or not cry. She could be mad if she needed to be mad. But I would do my best to get her to whisper whatever her big scary thing is. Even if it meant telling her my biggest, scariest thing. Someone needs to pay attention to this smart girl who is doing dangerous things. To this young woman who is too tiny to wear a size 00. To the pretty young woman in the  baggy clothing. To the beautiful young woman who just got her hair straightened and spends all her time counting calories.

Because she isn’t going to be here for long if someone doesn’t help her find her broken places so she can repair herself.

And it is possible to fix yourself if you’ve got the right tools in the tool belt.

It is.

Do we have any responsibilities to each other on social media? Or do we just shrug our cyber shoulders?

The other day I got this piece of fan mail:

Click here if you want to see the print better. You can hear the tone better, too.

It was written in response to a post that I wrote almost 2 years ago.

I don’t get a lot of hate mail, but it’s kind of exciting.

It means that I have said something powerful and controversial.

Or that I’m really famous.

You can check out that old post here.

Funny thing is, I feel the same way I did when I originally posted.

The only difference is that my son is now 12 and 1/2.

Oh, and he doesn’t like to be called Monkey anymore.

Now the question is should I respond to this person? And if so, what should I say?

How do you handle haters?

I’m working furiously on my fiction manuscript.

I need an unusual name for a babysitter.

Got any suggestions?

Give me a name, and I’ll tell you one interesting fact about this person.

This is El's Avatar. She is riding for justice.

El Farris is my writing partner. She kicks my butt and makes sure that I am writing. And then I kick her butt back.

I guess we kinda like to kick each other’s butts.

El and I have 6,347 things in common. We both love motorcycles and horses. We are both wild women and yet we each have a strong sense of justice. We hate bullying and plagiarism. We have both survived things that might make folks look at us with sad eyes or call us victims. We call ourselves survivors.

El’s just hit her 111th post on her blog Running From Hell With El and, to celebrate, I suggested she run a little contest.

El is all about justice and she has a strong moral code. We decided a great idea — nay, the perfect idea — would be for people to create their own Super Hero Avatars and send them to post at her place.

For the purposes of this contest, a superhero is defined as a character dedicated to using his or her strengths to stop those who might use their powers for selfish, destructive or ruthless purposes.

Rules:

1. Pick your cause — funny or serious — and send in a visual representation of your Super Hero to elfarrisburke@gmail.com. You can use any medium: a drawing, a cartoon, a photograph, a collage.

2. Please include with your submission an explanation of what your Super Hero is fighting for (or against, as the case may be).

3. You may submit until January 24, 2012 at 9 PM EST.

4. On January 25, 2012 at 7 am, I will announce the winner of El’s Strong Enough to Escape From Hell Create Your Own Super Hero Contest.

One lucky winner will receive a $20 gift card to Barnes and Noble.

{Knowledge is power, people. We find that knowledge in books.}

This is my Super Hero! And before you get all freaked out thinking, "I can't do that!" I didn't. My kid did it for me. I made a doodle. Which would have been fine. Plus, I'm the judge. I can't win.

When is the last time you created art with something other than words?

When I was in middle school, I took horseback riding lessons from folks who lived in a broken down old house but who took fantastic care of their horses. Sometimes I came straight from ballet class, and I had to pull my jeans over pink ballet tights, leave my skirt and slippers in the car and lace up my tan Timberline boots. I was a quick study and easily learned how to get my horse to respond. I learned to give the appropriate kicks to get him to trot, to jump over logs, banks and ditches. I learned to canter, my favorite stride.

After a while, I begged my instructor to teach me how to gallop.

I was sure I was ready.

I did not look like this.

She disagreed.

One day, after school, my friend Kim suggested we take her horses out bareback – no saddles or stirrups – “Just bridles,” she’d said. “Because you always want to have the reins.”

An unseasonably warm fall day, the woods near Kim’s house were filled with trails and we casually bumped along on the horses’ backs under pine trees and blue skies. Eventually, we came to an open field where the trail disappeared. Surrounded by tall grasses, the oranges and yellows and browns of late October trees, Kim and I were quiet; our animals walked side-by-side, the sound of their hooves beating the earth was calm and rhythmic.

Until it wasn’t.

All I know is that suddenly I was clinging to the neck of an unfamiliar horse, my legs kicked out wildly behind me, bumping in an unfamiliar gait, which I assumed meant I was galloping. And since I’d never galloped before, I didn’t know what to do — especially without stirrups to steady myself.

And then I started to slip.

I tried to grab the reins that had slid through my fingers, but I couldn’t reach them. As the dust made it impossible for me to see, I had no choice but to give in to the will of a black horse that simply needed to run. And when I could not hold on any longer, I fell onto the ground, smashing my head against a big rock.

I was sure I was going to be trampled to death.

Or at least have a bloody nose.

As I huddled on the ground, I remember thinking, If I survive, one day, this will make a great story.

Truth be told, I loved the thrill of the ride, the holding on and not knowing where I was going-adrenaline-rush.

(Note: The falling off part was not so hot.)

Riding horses isn’t so different from writing. With both writing and riding, there are basics that one must first master. Just as a novice equestrian can’t go from walking to galloping in one day, a beginning writer cannot produce a great novel in a week, a month or a semester. One must first become a smart writer. One must learn the art of storytelling. Of suspense. One must understand the rules of grammar and punctuation. And then learn when it is appropriate to break these rules. One must learn the nuances of language, play with all the modes of discourse, and acquire eyes that can fearlessly revise. As well as a million other things.

If I were still actively riding horses, I would have to practice.

Every day.

Like I do with my writing.

At least seven-hundred words every day.

Because the more I practice, the easier the writing becomes.

Sometimes a piece of writing slides out effortlessly like a new foal birthed in a spring field. But other times — like with that crazy Arabian — my words get away from me and they want me to start describing things like the uncomfortable red chair in the corner of the room, which clearly does not belong in this piece. It’s okay. This ballerina-cowgirl learned long ago that sometimes she has to pull leather chaps over her jeans and tights and click her tongue and say, “No! We are not going over there!” She is not afraid to give a little kick and tug her writing in a different direction.

Some days I drop the reins on purpose and let my muse take me somewhere. And I don’t know where I’m going and the whole getting there is scary and, in the end, what I’m left with is sometimes raw or terrifying. Or awesome.

But sometimes it is a disorganized mess.

It happens.

As I said, I like the thrill of the ride: the not knowing where I’ll end up.

For me, writing is like unintentionally riding bareback on a galloping horse. It isn’t the easiest or the smartest way to get somewhere, and Lord knows it isn’t pretty to watch, but eventually I end up where I’m supposed to be. Usually without even a concussion.

What is writing like for you? I’d love to know. Or maybe you’d rather tell me about your experiences with horses. Or falling off horses. Maybe you’d rather tell me about your experiences as a dancer. Or falling as a dancer. Oh, just say something.

Map depicting United States East Coast
Image via Wikipedia

So I was checking out Jessica Buttram‘s blog, per usual, and I realized she was participating in a funky experiment about accents, a prompt which she got from Jamie’s Rabbits who got it from someone else.

And so on… And so on… And so on…

Those of you over 40 are probably having flashback to the commercial for “Faberge Organic Shampoo”

Yeah, me too.

Anyhoo, I’ve spent most of my life above the Mason-Dixon line, but you would be amazed how five short years in N’awlins got all up in this East Coast girl’s upbringing and influenced my dialect!

This probably happened because I so wanted to be a Southerner!

Lord, I loved everything about the South. I loved etoufée and crawfish. I loved how the giant roots from the oak trees pushed up rebelliously through the cement walkways. I loved the scent of magnolia that wafted around. I love that men wore seersucker suits, and nobody laughed at them. And I loved that the women wore enormous hats. I loved eleventeen-bajillion other things, too.

And as a lover of language, I especially loved the way people in N’awlins pronounced certain words.

So it is with great excitement that I share my piece of this experiment.

Yup, I’m bustin’ in with some hybrid pronunciation. For real. This is what happens when you take a Northern gal to the deep south for a few years.

First a few quick things:

  • I’m Jewish. I talk with my hands.
  • Sorry I became a little distracted and ridiculously repetitious at a few points. My husband and son were making pasta and I could hear them whispering in the background. They were trying to find the marinara sauce. Just so you know, in case you are ever visiting my house, the marinara sauce is in the pantry — which is where all cans and jars live until they are opened. Once they found the jar of Prego, it was much easier to focus.
  • You will hear the microwave beeping.
  • Yes, I like throw pillows.

The Words: Aunt, Route, Wash, Oil, Theater, Iron, Salmon, Caramel, Fire, Water, Sure, Data, Ruin, Crayon, Toilet, New Orleans, Pecan, Both, Again, Probably, Spitting Image, Alabama, Lawyer, Coupon, Mayonnaise, Syrup, Pajamas, Caught, Insurance (added for Jamie).
• • •
The Questions:
  1. What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
  2. What is the bug that when you touch it, it curls into a ball?
  3. What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?
  4. What do you call gym shoes?
  5. What do you say to address a group of people?
  6. What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body & extremely long legs?
  7. What do you call your grandparents?
  8. What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?
  9. What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?
  10. What is the thing you change the TV channel with?

What words do you think I pronounced “weird”?

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