The other day, The Okie Devil wrote some lovely complimentary stuff on my treatment of his missives, here at the LoL…

*Don’t be jealous, Clicky… Just because Cade didn’t mention you…*

Anyway, he also floated a notion…

Maybe it’s time for us to try and write one together. Maybe a back and forth kind of  “I write a paragraph…She writes a paragraph” and so on. I can see some other avenues within that framework that might work well as well. But maybe that’s not a good idea. I dunno. Just…thinkin out loud.
We’ll see I guess.

I thought it a splendid idea and so, Dear Reader, for your entertainment, below is our attempt, yesterday, at a sort of Anglo-American bout of Ping Pong…

*/cackles… So jealous… /shakes head…*

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Raed Ris dna/ro Mabam,

Sometimes, this backward shit just don’t work eh? So you gotta improvise or some shit like that.

(Sorry about the foul fucking language)

Anyway…so…

Hey Roob!
Q: Ya up for this “concept?”
A: (your answer goes there) hehe

Take your time. It is afterall…your time.

I typically read in a “looping” kind of fashion. Up and down and around, at the same time as side-to-side, both backwards AND forwards. As a result, it caused me to develop a “less-physically/less-medically discernible” type of speech impediment that caused me to transpose letters. I could read just fine in my head. But when I actually spoke what I read, I tended to mix up the letters.

EX1: “The Dog”…would become…”Dee Thog.”
EX2: “The Wide World of Sports”…would become…”We Wibe Swirled Aborts”…(usually, I was trying to avoid spitting with both the “S” the “P” and again with the “S”, which the “W’s” seem to have had pooled a massive collection of within my mouth).

This was/is in addition to several other “more discernible” speech impediments that were said to be the result of both unfortunate genetics and unfortunate “more preventable” types of events. Accidents…I believe they are sometimes called in more polite circles and/or settings.

“Being a complete and total walk-disaster of a fuckup” in more “real-world” types of situations.

But I digress.

Injuries to the head, neck, face, tongue, and jaw…are… …traumatic.
Being encouraged to not speak at all…also has some lasting effects.
Such as, for example…not speaking at all.
The perfect imperfection.
But I further digress…all kinds of things that can “inspire us” to stop communicating.

As a matter of fact…I think it’s about time for recess.

Wanna play? 😉

(Strictly platonic off course.)

/sorry couldn’t resist…DOH!!!

I think I might be able to think of some others who may benefit from such an endeavor. Maybe you can as well.

But I leave that decision, from here, up to you. I certainly do not wish this to cause harm in any way. And there is no pressure. If this sounds like the worst shitty idea you’ve ever heard of…feel free to keep that to yourself. “No fucking way you fucking Okie idiot!”…works just fine.

Thanks For You Consideration.

❤
-cade

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A: I used to sound like I’d had a drink when pronouncing my maiden name. I woz okay if I woz torking natchrole-like… ‘Roof Shoewan’… But if I was trying to sound educated or posh-like, the ‘th’ at the end of my first name would rear end the ‘Sh’ at the start of my second, like a DUI on black ice. Hot blood flowed, but only into my cheeks.

My son, Kitten, has/had verbal dyspraxia. He had a limited vocabulary until age 5, mostly consisting of “Mm”, “Da”, “Looby”, “yeah”, “no”, “cat” and “gone”. We didn’t even have cat, it was the neighbour’s pristine white moggy, Lara. She would jump up onto the garden fence whilst I nattered over it with next door, toddler in arms, and he would point and say “Cat!”, and when she jumped down, Kitten would exclaim, “Cat gone!”

Five years of speech therapy once a week with a willowy blond called Kendall (‘Mintcake’) developed his speech through repetitious play. But learning to write and spell were a nightmare; whilst Thoughtful Man took charge of Kitten’s 2wing and frowing from school to therapy room and back again, I was in charge of his homework and he did not like writing, not one little bit. At that time there was a Saturday evening TV show on called ‘Merlin’ which Kitten adored. Ah ha! I thought. If he could see words as ‘spells’, maybe he would see letters and combos of as ingredients. It did absolutely nothing for him but it sure as hell changed my perception of words.

What did work for him was me teaching him the NATO phonetic alphabet…

For some reason, he got that and, what with all the hard work his teachers put in (who he naturally charmed), he’s no longer afraid or using words, spoken or written. In fact, sometimes he never shuts up 😉

Is this the kind of thing you’re after Okie Devil? Btw, I did change a misspelling in your starter twice. Naughty of me as I have porpoisely misspelt words in my reply. Sorry, habit… But, as I’m sending it back to you, you can change it back if you wanna.

What kind of ‘accidents’ to your head, neck, face, tongue, and jaw?

❤

Roob – x

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Um…I’ve tried to talk about some of my injuries and unfortunate experiences and whatnot over at whatchacallit forums. I mentioned what most would prolly consider “the worst of the lot”…but not to me. I don’t remember much of that one.

I’d like to talk about my experiences…but I’m still not ready for some/most of them. If people think that the “sensationalist and unbelievable” worst of the worst of the worst is impossible…then how in the HELL are they gonna believe what I somehow survived…only to encounter even worse over a string of many events over years? Because I’m telling you…it gets worse.

The only reason I’ve poked my head up is that I know there are others that need to hear what I have to say, so that they do not feel so alone in their..”How did I survive that?” and “Why did I survive that?” moments that can and do come.

Just keep in mind that the only reason that I am talking about them at ALL…is because I am alone. Prolly someday…even my own children may need to hear these stories to help them understand why “dad was so fucking weird about anything and everything.” The short of that being…I tried to neither encourage nor discourage them from “jumping off of cliffs”…just assured them that if they DID jump and things went wrong?…I’d be there to catch them on the flip side. Have always tried to let them be their own person, but also always be there to guide them and advise them. And yeah…sometime…just…give them a little nudge maybe. 😉

Lotta scars on me that you can see, many that you cannot see. I just wanted to spare my children the bad ones, and allow them the choice of experiencing the good ones.

Roller skating on ice…for example. Meh…not too bad.
Roller skating on ice with rocket-powered roller skates?

Now we’re talkin!

I’ve talked about some of my “bad stuff” tho.

Some car wrecks and stuff like that. Maybe some of that “abuse” type stuff of the physical and mental varieties that is usually best not spoken of. The kind of shit that makes a kid run off and join the circus or a carnival if one is conveniently located in proximity to where the kid can get to without someone finding him…again…and again…and again…no matter how far he makes it from…where he’s trying to get away from.

BTW, my spelling errors? Correct away. God know I won’t catch them all. You’re the one gonna be posting this shit. Your honor as an English speeking Limay is aatt stakes here young lady. 😉

I’ve already defeated one Limey this week in a spelling contest.
Do you really wanna be next? (lol)
Losing a spelling contest to an Okie from Texas?
Oh…Bullocks!!!

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Just seen that MEROVEE Frank has posted this to BennyJurger…

You can always tell about some of the wonderful things you’ve experienced and weave in the painful stuff. Or like how Quint dropped the USS Indianapolis in Jaws. Very powerful and moving. Rocket-powered roller skating on ice, on the other hand, sounds like a unusual and exhilarating thing to try. Right up and until the moment it, well, isn’t. I have neither roller skated not attached rockets to anything, including sharks. I dunno, the idea just never occurred.

Perhaps we’re opposites. For instance, I’ve suffered no physical abuse and/or accident trauma. Only two hospital stays so far (well, three if you count being born in one): I had my tonsils removed at age 18. It was in a private hospital called ‘The Churchill’, located close to the Imperial War Museum in London. There is a song I associate with that hospital stay and it is attached to a bad memory of bad breath…

The other hospital stay was for the Boys’ birth. It was toward the end of the furiously hot August in 2001. Eighteen hours of labour and I end up having to have a C Section because Loopy shifted just before my fanny reached the required 10cm in diameter. I actually watched them being, not so much born as yanked out of me. I could see it all in the shiny ceiling tiles of the theatre. Loops had got his nose caught on something and wouldn’t budge. The profusely sweating surgeon even put his leg up on the surgery table to get better leverage. Loopy sported a big bruise on the side of his nose for his week in the world. But then again Kitten was born with a wonky toe. Erm… I’m now wondering for the first time if those two things weren’t related.

I may have broken a finger on a bumpy RIB ride across the Solent a few years ago. It was painful for months afterward but I never got it seen to, so probably not. Which means I’ve managed to get through just over 49 years so far without a broken bone. And you’ve had loads. Perhaps you took my share, in which case… Thank you ❤

Oh, the big news story the weekend of the Boys’ arrival… Posh Spice performed at a concert at Hyde Park wearing a lip ring! The scandal! When it was revealed to be a fake one, the UK MSM got a collective attack of the vapours all over again. Our UK press can be very parochial sometimes. The Song, however, that will always remind me of that weekend is by U2…

Hmm… three Songs included this time whereas you’ve being rather restrained. Strange 😉

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*/furrows brow… ‘The Invisibles‘ Lennon Head, Clicky?*

*/:D I think that calls for a Song, Clicky…*