Um, Like, I mean, Like Um, Ya Know Like, I mean

Recently I've had several conversations with a woman who says I mean at least three times in any sentence. In between I mean she sprinkles Um, Like and then, of course, Um Like. I know that some teenagers tend to use like and you know a little too often but this woman is 50-some years old.

Conversing with her is downright painful. I want to scream Get to the point! She's a business associate so she's not someone I can take aside and gently suggest she not speak until she has her thoughts more composed.

I don't sound like William F. Buckley but I have worked on my speech for many years. I am a born and bred New Englander, specifically Rhode Island. There are several different accents to be found in this one little state of only one million people. Most are not very pleasant to listen to and often ridiculed, usually by the rest of us.

I have tried to 'neutralize' my accent. I focus on pronouncing the G's in words ending in i-n-g. I try to put my R's where they belong and keep them out where they don't belong. My favorite example of both is Columbee-er Rivuh. Seriously, that's how many RhoDyLanduhs say Columbia River. I could go on and on with examples of some of the funny ways we talk but you would think I'm being unkind; probably funny but unkind.

While traveling in the U.S., we used to say that we're from Rhode Island, now we just say New England. I got tired of being asked "Isn't that an island off New York?" No, you geographically-challenged dumbbell, that's Long Island.

In my real estate business I often meet relocation clients; people who come from all over the United States and abroad. Eventually the conversation comes around to where I'm from. Usually when I say I'm a native Rhode Islander I hear "You don't sound like you come from Rhode Island." I usually say, thank you, thank you, I have worked to NOT sound like a Rhode Islander.

I used to have a friend who grew up in Brooklyn, New York, whose accent I found kind of cool. He knew I had worked on my 'accent' but every once in a while, usually when I was in a rant and got 'tawking' fast he would start to laugh. "What are you laughing at?" "You sound like you're from Rhode Island!"

Well, um, ya' know, like sometimes I just can't like help it.

Mother Nature's Beauty and Wrath in Massachusetts

Today is the 1st anniversary of a blogging group known as New England Bloggers. To mark the day, we're having a blog carnival. Go and check out all of the participants at Thoughts from an Evil Overlord.

I belong to New England Bloggers because I am a proud native and lifelong Rhode Islander. In my 54 years I have lived in six houses but never more than 15 miles from the first. Paul and I have traveled to many parts of the world but this is home and it's always good to come back.

Rhode Island has many claims to fame. In elementary school everyone everywhere learned that we are the smallest state with the longest name: The State of Rhode Island and Providence Plantations. We are also the yardstick used by national reporters to describe the enormity of something, such as "an iceberg the size of Rhode Island" or "a wildfire the size of Rhode Island...." You get the idea. It's nice to be mentioned but I wish we weren't always used to describe a disaster.

I may have misspoken when I said "everyone learned." As I mentioned, Paul and I have traveled quite a bit in the U.S. as well as overseas. Unfortunetly I have to say that people outside the U.S. often know where Rhode Island is but Americans, not so much. When asked where we're from, I have begun just saying New England. I got tired of being asked "isn't that an island off New York?" when I said Rhode Island. I guess geography isn't taught in school anymore.

Anyway, I am also a tenth generation of this region. My ancestors arrived in 1631 when it was then just called the New World. Because I couldn't narrow down what I wanted to say here, I decided do a photo essay.

Everyone has also heard about New England winters. Here's a story about a doozy. Back in mid-December 2008 Central Massachusetts experienced the worst ice storm it had seen in a decade. Damage was primarily the result of fallen trees and utility wires and poles, which were coated in a heavy layer of ice. A million people lost power and a state of emergency was declared in the state. Even in this day and age, Mother Nature proved she was in charge and many people were without power for up to two weeks.

The pictures below were taken by Carolyn, my friend and cousin-in-law, who lives in Oakham, a little town of about 1700 people. Taken on a sunny day one or two days after the storm, you can see the beauty and devastation Mother Nature wreaked on this rural area.

Hello everyone. I'm Carolyn who took the ice storm pictures. I was amazed that like snow flakes, each tree that was broken was in a different stance. Some of the sights at dusk looked like hooded monsters lurking in the woods and by each roadside! Our power was out for 7 days. "Magnificent Destruction." I took a total of 168 pictures! THAT'S why God created the digi-cam!!!

Finger Lickin' Good!

For more opportunities to read about New England doings, go here.

Summertime…..4th of July parades, fireworks, picnics, and New England Clambakes. Last weekend Paul and I joined a group of extended family at a good old-fashioned clambake in his hometown.



There were over 750 people (not all relatives!) together for a traditional outing held every August. I took pictures of the ‘bake’ as it’s called for those of you who don’t have a clue as to what I’m talking about.

Here’s a picture of the bake when it's just about ready to be uncovered and served. Usually there’s a Bakemaster in charge. He's helped throughout the day by a couple dozen people. A multi-stage process, everything has to be done right or you've got a very expensive disaster and lots of unhappy people.

What you’re looking at is a concrete pad where early in the day they layed down a layer of round stones. You can dig a pit in the sand if you have the room but this is an established location for clambakes. Over the stones they spread a layer of logs which they burn down until they get the stones red hot so they can be used to radiate heat during the cooking process. At the right time, they pull the logs off and cover the stones with a thick layer of seaweed which was probably brought in that morning and soaked with seawater.

Over the seaweed are layers of wooden baskets filled with the ingredients of the bake: sweet potatoes, white potatoes, peeled onions, bags of seasoned white fish, hot dogs, bock wurst, chourico & linquica (Portuguese-style sausage), stuffing, fresh corn on the cob still in the husks and soft-shell clams or what we call steamers.

Then the entire mound is covered with canvas that has been drenched in sea water to seal in the heat and prevent the canvas from burning. The food is allowed to steam for several hours. It takes an experienced Bakemaster to get all the combinations of food, heat, seaweed & timing just right. For a bake this size you’re talking thousands of dollars worth of food and it’s not something you can stick back in the oven or back on the grill if it’s not quite done.

Here's last weekend's bake being uncovered.

The food is served right from the baskets and we dig in!

As you can see this is 'finger food' and the clean up can get messy........

....so I never travel to a clambake without my trusty Wet Ones.