This is why I need therapy...

I have been blogging for over a year, but just today I finally figured out (or took the time, blood, sweat and tears needed) to post a picture on my blog. I can't believe I did it! And the photo isn't upside down or sideways!! Woohoo!!! Miracles do happen. This photo is my daughter, Brynley, and me, taken during her visit (which ended today...sniff, sniff) to Louisville, KY in mid-July. But, after all the mental straining required to get the photo from one place on my computer to another, I either need a serious nap or some serious therapy. I think I vote for the serious nap--it doesn't cost anything and I don't have to be on someone else's schedule or be cut off mid-sentence when my "time is up".

Maybe tomorrow I'll put some other photos on my blog of other family members. I'll need a good night's sleep and sturdy breakfast to attempt another such feat, but I think I'm up for the job. I'm feeling confident. I'm feeling knowledgeable. I'm feeling superior to those who still can't do what I did (but that won't last long because I may forget what I did and how I did it and I'll be back to the blood, sweat and tears and the phone call to one of my computer-savvy children). For now, I am celebrating and then napping. Success is good and there is much rejoicing, except for Wilbur, my papier mache pig, who is just a little jealous because he will never be able to post anything on a blog. Good night and good luck....to me that is, hoping that, in the morning, my slippery-as-grease-in-a-pan memory will serve me well.

Grammar School

I have noticed of late that the English language is being misused and abused, mostly by people who think comic books are classic literature and video games are Oscar-worthy "screenplays" (well, there is a screen involved and there is play).

I am not the perfect grammartarian because I still haven't quite got the "lie" vs. "lay" issue figured out, which is why I avoid using those verbs and get mental hernias trying to find suitable substitutes. However, I know most of the rules of the verbal road and I obey them. I like the sound of a language being spoken properly. I wonder about the upbringing and education of individuals who, on a daily basis, mispronounce, misuse, misapply, and otherwise ignore the basic rules for speaking and writing.

Me and her went to the store. Yep. You did. Too bad she and you didn't purchase a book on the proper use of pronouns while you were there. We was doing real good on our project. Well, except for mangling the language perhaps, yes, you was, I mean were. And this grammartrocity isn't limited to the spoken word, it is also rampant in the written word. Verbs and nouns don't match up
--plural needs plural and singular begs for singular. Participles are left dangling (a very uncomfortable situation). Sentences end before fully formed. Punctuation has taken a vacation and is not returning. Spelling has checked out, left the building.

I had an excellent English teacher in high school. He always told my class that we are what we read. If we read well-written, well-thought-out verbiage, we will speak and write it. If we read Harlequin Romances, the joke will be on us. I know that math and science have been put at the forefront of education these days, but not everyone is going to be an Albert Einstein or Werner VonBraun. The percentage of mathematicians and scientists in an adult, working population is small. The vast majority of students will not be wearing lab coats or focusing on whether the theory of relativity is still relative. Doesn't it make sense to include instruction in other subjects, not the least of which is one emphasizing the proper use of language? And while we are at "it", let's lose the R-rated words that appear to have a unique ability to shift from verb to noun to adverb to adjective. Pretty soon we'll have a vocabulary that consists of approximately 10 words (ones that would prompt your mother to lather up your mouth with soap back in the "good ol' days"). We will be unable to precisely express ourselves and much will be left to interpretation. Perhaps the only people who will still be using $5 words that won't require that you be accompanied by an adult when reading, will be the lawyers. They will continue to use words to detail legal documents, etc. and, at $5 a word, we will all pay dearly for this language skill. If the Bible is right and there will be no lawyers in Heaven, does that mean life will be Hell when we find ourselves in a verbal traffic jam at the crossroads of "Whatssup" and "Hey Dawg"? Hopefully not. Hopefully me and her and everyone else will have decided that William Shakespeare (and other great writers) isn't just a dead guy with nothing to say to us. And hopefully enough people will think a return to the use of proper language, decorum and social mores isn't "Bunches of Stuff about Nada" but will still be called, "Much Ado About Nothing"....

Returning the corner

I purchased a watermelon (interior unseen) the other night and I looked forward to juicy, red watermelon for a summer treat. I planned to cut it up the next day and put it in the refrigerator to make it nice and cold for eating. I had a plan. I had a watermelon. I had a knife. I had a cutting board. So, there I was implements and food item in place. I cut the bottom end off to give the melon a flat surface to "stand" on--a culinary trick I learned from a bona fide chef, who graduated from the Cordon Bleu in Paris, while I was serving as the main cook at a girls' camp several years ago. Monsier Chef Bleu was the chef at the "resort" where camp was held. He taught my staff and I to cut both ends off, then the rind, then cut the "meat" in half, quarters, slices and cubes. It is a fast, effective and efficient way to cut up a watermelon.

Back to my current melon story--I made the second cut and noticed that the meat of the melon was not exactly red. It also wasn't exactly pink. It was, however, an orange yellow color and there didn't seem to be much juice in it. I thought I had purchased, by mistake, a yellow watermelon, normally a food I couldn't afford. I continued to do my Cordon Bleu cutting and saw that the inside cuts on the melon yielded yellow, orange and light pink innards. I cut a small piece, tasted it and realized that I had purchased the Roswell, NM watermelon. It was a mutant, an alien and definitely not a watermelon meant for eating, unless your name is Wilbur and you like leftovers served in a trough or the mud. Since I paid $3.49 for the melon, I decided I would return it for a refund.

How does a person return a melon that has been cut up? In a plastic container with evidence of the outside skin included so the Customer Service person will believe you when you say it's a watermelon. Today was "Return A Watermelon" day and I drove it back to Wal-Mart. There is not only a greeter at the entrance to Wal-Mart, but a person who puts pink stickers on returns. I had the watermelon slices in my container and, when asked by the Return Policeperson if I had something to return, I responded, "Yes. I have a watermelon." Well, I got a look. He asked me how I could return something that I had mutilated. (My knives may not be Ginsu, but I had definitely not mutilated my melon.) He wished me good luck (that didn't sound promising), told me he wished he could be at Customer Service when I made my pitch and asked me to let him know what happened. I expected to be handcuffed, put in an orange jumpsuit and made to parade in front of Wal-Mart with a placard declaring that I made an inappropriate return request. Instead, the young lady, who helped me, looked at the melon slices, declared them "Gross" and asked, "What is that?" and handed me $3.49. With a triumphant smile and a swagger, I walked out of the Wal-Mart, past the Return Police, letting him know that I had been successful in obtaining a refund and then I promptly dumped the slices into the garbage container and went home.

I probably will not purchase any more Roswell watermelons, but, if I do, I know I will have another story to tell and at least $3.49 coming my way--about the amount I'll spend on gas to return it....

Ta dah!

I'm bbbbbaaaaaaaaccccckkkkk! Yep, the Big Apple was great. I didn't do anything to get arrested, including speeding to and from New York on the highways and byways of life. Spent one day in the City, but it was good and there was much rejoicing, especially by the cafe that overcharged Barrett and me for salad and flat bread, but who cares! It's New York and if I weren't overcharged, I'd be in Topeka!

Spent time with the family and everyone survived with most body parts intact and only minor mental dents and dings. That's why there's therapy. And that's why Brynley is going to be a therapist, so our family can get "fixed"--not like what you do to the dog or cat so they can't reproduce, although maybe, in some instances, that's not a bad idea. Oh, too late. I've had children, and I'm not reversing the process!

I arrived home this evening and, after stopping for some groceries so I won't be forced to eat cardboard for breakfast, I put everything away and headed straight for my compooter. Missed e-mailing and blogginess. Thanks to the three lovely individuals who commented on my last entry. It made me happy. And my invisible friends are happy because I've stopped kvetsching (spelling?). I will continue to write regardless of "commentors", but everyone likes to be recognized every once in a while, well, except for people in a police line-up who are trying to make facial "changes" whilst they are being scrutinized so they won't be recognized for their dastardly deeds.