Language

 Yesterday was a doctor visit day. A follow-up to our blood work. It is always fun to watch a new health care provider when they read the report of HeWho's cholesterol. They generally freak out and begin to question him about his loyalty to his drug regimen and his diet. When we moved to Missouri and went to our first visit with the doctor there, he did just that. After that first visit when he realized that HeWho had no clue about his prescriptions or his diet and was prone to agree to anything, then not do it; he didn't bother to chat with him about the results. He called me instead. I wasn't always available to accompany my husband to his visits then. After the third visit he called, and we discussed the results. Joe (Dr. V, also a camper) sighed and said, "I guess this is about the best we can hope for."

Knowing this, imagine my utter amazement to discover that MY cholesterol was high! My good cholesterol is good, my bad, was BAD. After refusing to take the Lipitor, due to the side effects, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. But I am surprised that mine was worse than his. I refused to give him the Lipitor, too. It caused sever muscle weakness in his legs and the cardiologist and I argued about the benefits vs the side effects several times. HeWho was walking from one means of transportation to another when his legs just buckled, and he would have fallen if someone hadn't been there to grab him. The cardiologist blatantly refused to consider another drug with less side effects making me wonder if he worked for the makers of Lipitor!

I must be feeding the man right! I also added fish oil to his pill regimen. His triglycerides were extremely high. He had a Little Debbie addition, along with his Juicy Fruit gum. The gum is sugar free, but not those swiss rolls he is so fond of.

When we left the office, it was close to lunch time. There was a little shop I noticed on the way to the doctor's office called "Thrifter's Paradise". I promised to be quick and left him in the car. Sadly, the store did not live up to its name. I did find a little table that would be useful for $6, so I can't complain. But all this shopping and bartering for a deal left HeWho hungry. We went into the Main Street grill that was next door to the thrift shop.

I was raised mostly in the south. When my Dad was in the Navy and stationed in Norfolk, Va., we lived there when he was on shore duty, then always traveled back to Georgia when he sailed to other seas. Not an ideal situation for schooling, always leaving a school in the middle of the school year, then being behind or reviewing material already covered. I hated it, my sister thrived on it. All this to say that my education in grammar might have exceeded that of my classmates in the south.

The South has a grammar all its own. When I married HeWho is loved by me, I will have to say his grammar wasn't nearly as bad as some; but definitely not following the rules of grammar. The menu in this little establishment had a notice on the front proclaiming "Prices have went up." Indeed, they have .... gone up. Rarely do you see bad grammar printed, usually you just overhear someone talking. Little things like "them is and they was" "you don't reckon, do you?" and "I don't rightly know".

I am always translating these phrases in my head. I once worked with a supervisor from Wisconsin who would always look at me to translate such things for his understanding. He said he felt like he was in a foreign country. His pet peeve was "fixing to". Should be "about to". "We was just fixin' to get to that." He would respond, "No, you were about to!" The other speaker would then look to me to translate his words. I honestly didn't think I would end up far enough south for this to be the vernacular of my daily existence; yet here I am!

Good thing I already know the language!