We greet people with “Howzyamomma’an’dem?”

You know there’s such a thing as snowball season.

When giving directions you use words like “uptown,” “downtown,” “backatown,” “riverside,” “lakeside,” “on the bayou,” “‘cross da lake” or “on the Westbank” (which is on the eastside).

When you refer to a geographical location “way up North,” you are referring to places like Shreveport, Little Rock or Huntsville, “where it gets real cold.”

You remember making groceries at Schwegmann’s.

You’ll have Community Coffee, by yourself.

When you ask someone where they went to school, you mean high school.

You can pronounce Tchoupitoulas and maybe spell it.You don’t worry when you see ships riding higher in the river than the top of your house.

We like our sandwiches “dressed.”

We think a fried shrimp po-boy is healthier than a Caesar salad.

We judge a roast beef po-boy by the number of napkins used.

We can eat Popeye’s, Haydel’s and Zapp’s for lunch and wash it down with Barq’s and several Abitas.

The four seasons in your year are: King Cake, crawfish, duck, and deer.

We “wrench” your hands in the “zink” with an onion bar or crumbled crackers to get the crawfish smell off.

We didn’t learn that Mardi Gras is not a national holiday until high school.

We believe that purple, green and gold look fine together.

Having an axe in your attic is a given.

Your last name probably isn’t pronounced the way it’s spelled.

We know what a nutria rat is but still pick it to represent our baseball team.

You have spent a summer afternoon on the Lake Pontchartrain catching blue crabs.

We describe a certain hue as “K & B Purple.”

We pronounce the largest city in our state as “Nawlins.”

We know those big roaches can fly, but we’re able to sleep at night anyway.

We shake out our shoes before putting them on.

We assume everyone has mosquito swarms in their backyard.

We realize the rainforest is less humid than Louisiana.

Your sunglasses fog up when you step outside.

We can stop and ask someone where there is a drive-through Daiquiri Shop, and they will tell us where to find it.

We get on a bus marked “Cemeteries” and don’t think twice.

We have burial plots six feet over rather than six feet under.

Every so often, we have waterfront property.

We have flood insurance.

We worry about a deceased family member returning in spring floods.

We know that people will push little old ladies out of the way to catch Mardi Gras throws.

You can leave a parade with footprints on the top of your hands and not be odd.

There is a parade ladder in your shed.

You know what a parade ladder is.

You raise your hand in the air and yell loudly, “Throw me something mistah,” in public.

You have a monogrammed go-cup.

We think New Orleans the best place to live, even if it is rated number one in every category, good and bad.

No matter where else you go in the world, you are always disappointed in the food.

When it starts to rain, you cover your beer instead of your head.

The best thing to add to a pot of boiling water and salt is rice; it will go with anything else you’ll fix for dinner.

Tomato sauce is “red gravy.”

We ask, “How dey running?” and “Are dey fat?” when inquiring about seafood quality.

We say “Who Dat!?!?” without asking a question.

Your house payment is less than your air conditioning bill.

Your grandparents are called “MawMaw” and “PawPaw.”

Natalie Jost, my web designer and friend and owner of OliveManna, posted this on her blog today. It’s simply brilliant and totally clever. It was written by a 20-year-old for a contest sponsored by AARP.