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| Karen White and Eloisa James at The Chocolate Bar in Decatur, Georgia |
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| Deer Me... |
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| Man and Beast |
It's the great conundrum for someone who works at making every sentence just right. No, I'm not talking to only the writer-types reading this, but those who write notes of thanks, write letters for a boss, or journal to maintain his or her sanity. Everyone writes, right?
Scenario 1 - So tell me, what would the 87 year old grandmother say to a thank you note that read, "Dear G'ma. Thx 4 the diary u sent for my b'day. GMBO at the cute puppy on the cover. G'ma, I'm 12. Puppies r 4 babies. LUWAMH, Maggs.
Scenario 2 - Or, how about the manager reading a memo from his recent grad boss, "IMHO, ASAP in this ARE, we must msg our customers in a language they rel8 to. We must appear SF, K. FWIW, we can offer training in this new language. If not, I think YBS. TTYL.
Scenario 3 - As far maintaining sanity via journal, well, can you imagine coming back to this journal 20 years from now: "WIBNI bb grl hadn't climbed into the kitchen sink and eaten those coffee grounds 2day. LSHMBB. Diaper was disgusting. FMTYEWTK to be sure. HHIS. I'll run the disposal next time. TGIF, I couldn't take 1 more thing. Finally, I get to L2M and relax. TAFN.
Not only does it all sound like gibberish, who in their right mind could wrap their head around all of the combinations of acronyms that could come about? Are seventh grade English teachers going to now have to include acronymic sentence structure with and without punctuation?
So, how does the modern woman adapt to today's language? She looks up the latest lists, the hottest acronyms and buzzwords, so she can keep up with what her kids are chatting about online, on the cell, and passing back and froth in class. Then, she breaks the binding on that new copy of Webster's and gets back to the real world and writing real thank you notes, letters and memos, and manuscripts, lots and lots of manuscripts (for you writer-types reading this).
Oh, and if you are curious about the translations of the messages above, they are below (If I could've flipped them upside down I would have just to mess with you like they do in the newspaper).
Scenario 1 Translation: Dear Grandmother, Thanks for the diary you sent for my birthday. Giggling my butt off at the cute puppy on the cover. Grandmother, I'm 12. Puppies are for babies. Love you with all my heart, Maggs
Scenario 2 Translation: In my humble opinion, as soon as possible in this acronym rich environment, we must message our customers in a language they can relate to. We must appear surfer friendly, okay. For what it's worth, we can offer training in this new language. If not, I think you'll be sorry. Talk to you later.
Scenario 3 Translation: Wouldn't it be nice if baby girl hadn't climbed into the kitchen sink and eaten those coffee grounds today. Laughing so hard my belly is bouncing. Diaper was disgusting. Far more than you ever wanted to know to be sure. Hanging head in shame. I'll run the disposal next time. Thank goodness it's Friday, I couldn't take one more thing. Finally, I get to listen to music and relax. That's all for now.
What ridiculous message would you send to your boss if you knew for certain he or she would never decipher it? Have your kids taken on speaking and writing in this new verbiage (this being the true definition of verbiage)? Do you think the workplace will ever adopt this way of communicating?
Life in Penned Perspective by Lindy Chaffin Start
http://www.unstoppablestart.com/
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| Targeting... |
This week at WritersLi.P.P. we coined the subject Objective Perspective. No matter who you are, your profession, your goals or aspirations, this subject is hard to define. So, I'm not going to (for once).
As a woman with ethics I must abide by objectivity. The situation does not matter; I must be able to see it from more than one side.
Thanks to my dad, I can offer this analogy on perspective: It's like looking at the flat front of a coffee mug while listening to someone tell you that you must grab the full circumference of the mug even though it's hot from the steaming liquid inside. Something inside you says there has to be something more; a handle perhaps.
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| BUSINESSMEN PERSPECTIVE © Erengoksel | Dreamstime.com |
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| Mmmmm...Dump Cake! |
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| Masks and wigs and tights, oh, my! |
It's raining today here in Decatur as I am sure it is doing where you live. And the rain, especially when it only comes once in a blue moon, pours down nostalgia.
The Best Thing These Li.P.P.s Ever Tasted in my case is Pecan-crusted Salmon over Portobello Cheese Grits with Wilted Greens. And, in my case this post isn't at all about the recipes but about the romance that ensued.
I was twenty-three living in Atlanta, a big move for a small town girl, and the youngest Executive Coordinator ever hired at a Culinary School in the Southeast. I was the anomaly in a field dominated by older male chefs and entrenched in the metro-area’s restaurant scene. A not-so-lanky food-lover, I hurried to get to know every chef that opened a restaurant in my town inviting them to showcase their food in one of the many classes we hosted. I viewed my position as a stepping stone to my dream job – restaurant public relations and marketing.
The job, in addition to my other responsibilities, tended to be overwhelming, so I would escape to a small island not too far from Atlanta (no, the coast isn't THAT far from here). It was just such an evening.
Sitting at my linen-covered table, I shook my head, hoping with desperation I could let go of work for two days. I wanted forty-eight hours to enjoy the beach, but the food on the island called to me, leading me to my favorite local restaurant famed for its play on Southern cuisine.
My meal was exquisite - Pecan-crusted Salmon over Portobello Cheese Grits with Wilted Greens. I savored every delicate bite allowing the sweet, rich flavors to mingle and fill my palette and soul with the peace I desired.
Taking my last sip of tannin-rich Pinot Noir, I asked the pretty waitress, “Could you please ask Chef to come to the table so I could pay him my compliments in person?”
“Absolutely!” the summer-bronzed woman replied, making haste to the kitchen.
Distracted, my eyes wandered around the restaurant spying lovers in dimly lit corners, and paintings with bright, contemporary colors. I was at home in my surroundings and filled with confidence.
Seconds later the chef stepped into the dining room. Dressed in crisp, formal whites, toque sitting atop his head, he appeared to be seven feet tall. My breath caught in my chest as the handsome, mysterious man approached the table, his self-assured stature enchanting.
We spoke for only a moment, but Chef's charming Northern demeanor, left this Southern belle intrigued. A week later I sent him a thank you note, and a week after that he called, and probably a week after that we were having dinner in Atlanta. He was sixteen years my senior and showed me the kind of love I want in life; the love that sweeps you away in a cascade of stars and warm sea water leaving you breathless and very aware that you will be connected forever.
That was sixteen years ago, and though life has dealt us cards we never would have anticipated, we remain friends. And, on a rare occasion, we get together and toast with a toasty single-malt and reminisce.
Is there a dish that has brought you to a place you never expected? Tell us your story.
Life in Penned Perspective by Lindy Chaffin Start
http://www.unstoppablestart.com/
This week's topic is The Best Thing These LiPPs Ever Tasted, and my recipe for basic whole wheat bread has undoubtedly been my most-requested over the years. I make fresh flour using my Whisper Mill grain grinder and a heavy-duty mixer, but friends have had success using good quality whole wheat flour from the grocery store and kneading by hand. Here goes.
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| Yes, those are bananas. |
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| It was a big'un! |
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