Are we all insane, compared to a "standard" norm?  I it possible that the normal person does not exist?    Should we all just live our lives, as we see fit. without regard to what conventions say?

Jimmy Buffett once sang, "This morning, I shot six holes in my freezer, I think I've got cabin fever, everything seems to be wrong."

Tonight, I chipped golf balls in my backyard while taking shots of Bushmill's.

Is crazy really the norm?

I am remembering my dreams now.  For a long time I didn't.  Recently I dreamed that my wife was mad at me and wanted a divorce.  Is this just a random synapse gone broken arrow on me, or is it my subconsious sending a message?

Empathy - that sense of shared experience.  The feeling of being connected, because we are all in it together.

An alleged country singer, whose name I do not recall, and don't want to know, introduced a Southernism to the country in a song called Honky Tonk Badonkadonk.

Now this song is wrong on so many levels, I could write a book, but I won't.  It did really miss the mark on the said expression that left many in the country scratching their heads.

The line from the song went:

Ooh we, shut your mouth, slap your grandma.

Ok, so my friends want to know, what's with slapping your grandma?

First a word about the kinds of people who come up with this:

Around the late 1600's, the native Irish were in a fight for survival against the British and the Scots who were given land grants by the King in what is now Northern Ireland.  It was a fight they were slowly losing.  As the lands available in America came available, it looked like a good alternative.  As a matter of fact, William Penn told the Irish, and what became known as the Scots-Irish (that's another book) that if they killed the Indians in Western PA, they could have land to farm.  Both sides of this fight thought this was a good deal, instead of fighting each other, they could fight groups of people who didn't have superior weapons.  They got there, killed Indians, but Penn reneged on the land.  They kept moving South, killing Indians and stealing land.  They farmed for a generation or two, then kept moving, killing Indians and stealing land.  Along the way, they married a few Indians into the Clan.

So these people, having suffered and dealt out hardships over several generations, became known as both violent and poetic, and hyperbole was their stock in trade.

So that's what slap your grandma is, hyperbole.  It's a huge overstatement, since you would never slap your grandma.  First, grandma is usually a tough old bird, and you're likely to draw back a nub.  (Is that a Southernism, or does everyone say that?)  Second, even if grandma wasn't up to the task of taking you to the woodshed, the rest of the family would have at you.

It refers to something of great quality, of such rare excellence, that you might forget yourself in obtaining it.

As in, "That cornbread was so good, I'd slap my grandma to get the last piece from her."

Hyperbole, of course is not exclusive to Southern idiom.  You see it in all languages and dialects.  Consider, slap you silly - dead tired - eating out of my hand.  Not literal, just making a point.

If you speak a dialect your whole life, you tend to forget what the phrases origin might be, though you know the meaning.  You also tend to forget that others don't understand the idiom, even though television has brought an end to most forms of regional idioms.

Also, to confuse matters further, my writing style and speaking style are worlds apart.  (I suppose that's because I tend to think more in writing than speaking)  To make matters worse, at times my speaking voice slips into my writing voice, confusing everyone.

So here are some idioms you may run into, should you read my blogs from time to time:

Butter my butt and call me a biscuit. - I don't know where this came from, but it's equivalent to I'll be a monkey's uncle, which I don't understand either.  It's complete surprise from an unexpected source.

That dog won't hunt. - Your idea is unworkable.  From taking dogs hunting, obviously.

The Devil is beating his wife - Sun is out and it's raining.  (No idea why)

Rode hard and put up wet - Looks rough - refers to horses

Nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rockin' chairs - self expanatory

mash - verb, to press as in "mash the up button"

might could - Southern redundency

ink pen - straight pin - Pen and Pin are pronounced the same, so we need the qualifiers

Bless his heart - preface to an insult, as in "Bless his heart, but he's dumber than a bag of hammers"

actin' - Southern addition to conjugation of "to be"   as in He actin' a fool

goober - 1) a peanut  2) an idiot  look for context clues

druthers - really bad contraction of  I had rather  - drather - druther

If I tell you a chicken dips snuff, look for the can
If I tell you the blueberries are ripe, bring the bucket
(Both mean believe what I tell you even if it doesn't make sense)

Don't let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya.  - You can leave anytime, now.

I think that if I can ever complete a round of golf in a state of non-judgemental awareness, I will have made great strides toward enlightenment.

As it says in Zen golf, there is no meaning in a golf shot, except for that which we give it.  The reality is, it's a ball, a cup and four feet of grass, nothing else.  It's us who gives it the meaning, it's for par, or it's to save bogey.

And so there it is, that's why golf is Zen practice.

I have recently started to hit my drives well.  This is good, because I think it's an indication that I am clearing my mind, at least at the tee.  When I line up, I am calm, and my target is rather nonspecific, just out there somewhere.  When teeing off, I often think more about  the smell of the honeysuckle than anything else.

It just pushed the problem down, however.  Now my approach shots are likely to go anywhere.  I am attaching meaning to the shot.  I have a very specific goal, and want to control, not let go. I am thinking, if I can do this, I can be on in reg, putt for birdie, or at least get par.   My trusting is an issue.

Part of it has to do with the poverty mentality I've had for quite some time in golf.  I had so very few approach shots in the fairway, that I HAD to make them count.  If I continue to make good drives, that should be less of an issue, but I have to learn to trust, detach from the results, and concentrate on the process, not the results.

So for a while now, I have been telling myself that I will get up early in the morning and get some walking in.  I sit all day in my job, and when I don't have plans after work, I am usually tired and not interested in exercise after the daily chores are done.

Ok, so I haven't done it but once or twice now.  I have all kinds of excuses.  I'm tired.  I have an early meeting at work.  My head hurts.  My back hurts.  This morning, my stomach was bothering me.

So, this morning, I received a sign.  As I went to the street to get my paper, I noticed someone else doing some walking in the neighborhood.  I noticed, from afar, that his gait was off, rather labored.  (TheDylan is always correcting my walking form, so I guess I notice these things)

As the man approached, I noticed why his gait was off.  One of his legs was a prosthesis.

The key to signs is how to read them.  One interpretation is that this was a sign that I should get over my whining and excuses, and get out there and walk.  If a man with a prosthesis walks, what are my puny excuses?

Interesting read, but wrong.  Here's what the sign was:

My walking or not walking is a CHOICE.  Every day, hundreds of times a day, I choose.  No matter what face I put on it, essentially I have chosen not to walk.

So that is what I will examine next.  Why have I chosen this?

When I think about one thing, I sometimes get creative about something else.

Or at least, not young. 

Two things happened in the last month.  One was a health screening at work.  One of the tests came back with very unhealthful levels.  Nothing too serious, and treatable.  The thing that got me was that I always did physicals and they came back that I was healthy as a horse.  I felt bulletproof.   The other thing that happened was that my oldest daughter graduated from High School.  It was a good thing, we were happy about it.  She seemed to have an allergy to attendance in the last half of the school year.  I just never though of myself as being the parent of an adult.

Turning 40 was no big deal to me.  It was just a number.  These two things, though, UGH.  These are not what happens to a young person.

I talked to some people about what I was feeling, and I was dismisssed.  They were older, so I suppose they had older children and more medical issues than I.  At first I was somewhat upset.  I mean who likes to be dismissed?  I also think this is why I am often emotionally closed.  Who wants to open up to be shut down?

After having some time to reflect, I realized a few things.  One, it doesn't matter what others think about my situation.  Two, it is not up to them to make me feel better about it.  Three, they couldn't do so anyway.  Four, It is up to me to accept the new reality.  I can't make my daughter any younger, and I cannot go on living my life they way I have in the past and maintain the health I desire.  If I want to live, I have to make some choices.

I get somewhat fatalistic about this at times.  After all, every birth owes a death, and no matter what I do, I will die someday.  I can clear up all my health problems, and I may die of unnatural causes.  Even if I live another 40 years, I will die someday.

So, it's a choice.  Do I do what is necessary to prolong my life, taking my chances, or do I just do whatever I want and let the chips fall where they may?  It THAT the ultimate question?

For now, I am doing what they tell me to do.  I've lost 8 lbs and I feel better, so I suppose that is evidence that what I am doing is correct.  If that is the path I am taking, there is one more thing that my mind knows I need to do, but that part of me that isn't so smart resists.

I get it now, "To Be, or not To Be"

I only pay attention to the recurring dreams.  If it only happens once, it's likely that, as Scrooge said, "There's more of gravy than the grave about you."

If I have the same dream, more than once, then I feel there is something unresolved.