If irony is the spice of life, mine’s on the upper spectrum of the Scoville scale. (That’s the measurement for rating potency of peppers. I googled it, so it must be true.)
The older I get, the more I realize how ironic life can be. For instance, growing up, I never liked my voice. If I had to listen to myself recorded, I would cringe. Fast-forward 30 years, and I spend hours a week editing myself talking in videos.
While I never liked my voice, I also never realized I had what some would call an “accent.” I think it has something to do with being surrounded my entire life by people who talk exactly like me. But, I don’t have to get too far from home to hear: “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No, and I reckon that’s obvious.”
I have come to not only accept but embrace my seeming lack of grammar and affluence in Southern vernacular. Maybe the saying should really be, “Beauty is in the ear of the beholder.”
Finish reading the article on the Progressive Farmer here.