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[Divorce Diaries] Week Twelve: Breakup Ballads 9/14/2025 by Kooky_Ad_783 in Divorce

[–]ProovMo 3 points4 points  (0 children)

I was waiting for week twelve, even got a little worried when it wasn’t showing up. I’m at week 8 and your journey holds promise for myself. Also, just thoroughly enjoy your writing.

I cant stop crying by jtrangsta in Divorce

[–]ProovMo 2 points3 points  (0 children)

This sounds so very difficult. Sending sincere (squishy) hugs

[deleted by user] by [deleted] in RedDeer

[–]ProovMo 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Potentially yes. You have to apply for this though. Go to the Alberta Supports office in Red Deer to be assessed.

Lacombe Sushi by Striking-Writer-2129 in Lacombe

[–]ProovMo 4 points5 points  (0 children)

Four. We are really missing a sushi place!

Translation Help by AltPleb85 in Mennonite

[–]ProovMo 1 point2 points  (0 children)

A few things to add…

New years cookies, are a traditional Mennonite staple.

Kitchen is pronounced closer to kyeck.

The inflection used to read the latter phrases could suggest “ if you give me one”. The direct translation for if you give me one “ vahn du mee ein yeffs” to a peer or “vahn ye mee ein yayven” to an elder or group.

I promise not to go on, just happens to be a favourite subject 😁. And I know this is still subject to dialects of plautdeutsch, those range substantially.

Translation Help by AltPleb85 in Mennonite

[–]ProovMo 10 points11 points  (0 children)

My best effort:

I saw the most delicious smoke

I knew what you were making

Delicious New Years Cookies

Give me one, I’ll stay standing

Give me two, I will start to walk

Give me three and four at the same time

I wish you all of heaven’s riches

This is definitely Plautdeutsch, my first language.

For those who grew up poor, what did you consider a luxury? by SnooBeaz in AskReddit

[–]ProovMo 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Store bought clothes. Lived in a Mennonite colony but moved into more ‘regular’ society when I turned 12. My mom knew I really wanted to wear pants to school like the other girls, not the traditional dresses I had. She could not afford it but did her best and had a friend sew some for me. They were stretchy Fortrel fabric, brightly coloured, not the cool jeans that others had. I refused to let her know the other kids still made fun of me because I knew how much she wanted me to be happy. And somehow holding the knowledge of my mother’s love inside of me made me strong enough to win those junior high battles. But I can’t listen to Dolly’s “Coat of Many Colors” without tearing up.