idontbelieveingrammar

I’ve just finished a week of inservice and meetings and plannings and wanting to poke my eyes out. I spent my last Saturday morning of summer making copies and setting up a demo. One afternoon this week I got to sit through some technology training. The technology, surprise, was not working. So while the presenter stalled she made us go around and say why we became a teacher. I had to go first. And I HATE that question. You’d think that starting my 12th year, I’d have a good answer stored away. But I froze. I can’t even tell you what I said it was so lame. I've already blocked it out. And then today I stumbled across this. My first rejection letter. Sort of. It was the Community Opinions page ripped out of the Dallas Morning News. 5 years ago. With the obituaries on the back. A month or so before that page in the Dallas Morning News, me and my husband somehow ended up kidless and eating brunch in uptown. Someone had left the paper on the table and me...

My husband hasn’t always had a history or giving great gifts. Once I got some bouncy balls and a half eaten bag of candy for Valentines. Another time I got a floppy corduroy Blossom style hat (long after blossom was off the hair) and a large blue unrecognizable stuffed animal or Christmas. But over the years he has improved in leaps and bounds. There have been Emerald earrings and concert tickets and the perfect pair of Toms (that I actually ordered myself). But this year for my birthday he did even better. When we got back from vacation there was a small brown box sitting inside the door. I knew what it was because he had already told me. (And my birthday had come and gone almost 2 weeks before). He had printed out many of my blogs in book form. I had intended to print or at least save most of them a long time ago and had just never gotten around to doing it. I didn’t know what program to use, how expensive it would be or want to take the time editing. So I was glad that he had done t...

The last few days I spent a lot of time in the car… Which means I read lots of books. But it seemed like every time I was getting to the good part, it was time to stop for gas or for lunch or to find a lost toy or my husband suddenly wanted to engage me in conversation or Owen want to show me something…..well you get the idea. In a story, the “good part” is called the climax. (and I’m sure you all know this and don’t need an English lesson from a girl who doesn’t believe in grammar, but humor me here…I am getting to a point…maybe….at least I hope to get to a point). When I googled climax (carefully of course or else I’d have all kinds of definitions that I could not post here)…this is the definition that popped up: “The climax is the result of the crisis. It is the high point of the story for the reader. Frequently, it is the moment of the highest interest and greatest emotion. The point at which the outcome of the conflict can be predicted.” In addition to all this car reading, I’ve...

Lately I have been trying to kick this blog up a notch And yes, I know, I should probably start with a real layout rather than the generic blogger one…or that I should move to wordpress…or buy my own domain…or add more pictures…or ask more questions….or talk about controversial things…or comment more… But I thought maybe I should just start writing better. And more frequently. And worry about those other things later. But here is the catch. Lately I haven’t had much to say. I’ve been cleaning up old posts that never got published. I’ve been reading an old journal (thank goodness I didn’t have a blog back then or I’d be mortified!) Thinking and pondering and remembering and pulling at straws. This was almost a post about chili cheese fritos. Lately I have been indulgent. Finishing off the fritos. Spending without thinking. Speaking without thinking. Having too much. Breaking the rules. Not lenting. And other things that I won’t bother to post for the world to see. Or the dozen or so o...