Spell Bound

Some days it's just to, I mean too, too, much.

The first time my kindergarten class recited the alphabet I got myself into a panic, not remembering (or knowing?) the "em-a-nem-a-pee" sequence. Not too likely to make that mistake again.

Typos learned to jump from page to pupils. Over twelve years of parochial school, including three years of Latin, I became a human spellcheck.  Couple decades after that I subscribed to Business Week for two years. This was during the run-up to the Enron mess, when real journalists were asking the right questions and getting the actual story, each one bookended by top-level denials. Great writing, and a delightful read! All the information was right there, written expertly by folks who brought the unfolding drama to me week after week. Yeah, they're generating electricity in California, moving it out of state, and then re-selling it to California at a hugely inflated price. But they say they're not doing it. Nothing stranger than the truth!

It took 2-3 hours every week to digest the entire magazine, and when the term was up I reclaimed that time for another pursuit. Yet out of all those words, there were only about a couple dozen typos. A real admirable job.

 Too much. Too, too much.

Reading Between The Lines

As for directions: a handwritten sign taped to the hand dryer reads, "Place hands under dryer & it will turn on automatically!"

See the wavy lines between the machine and the outstretched hands? A perceptive symbologist has inscribed within the original wording, "Bacon will be dispensed."

Gives me a second chuckle, the first being the need for a sign in the first place. Just put up a sign that says FREE BACON and people will find a way to turn that hand dryer on, for sure! Literacy is a real good thing.

Can't Get There From Here

As I passed through the outskirts of town yesterday, a small gaggle of geese wedged their way toward the grey skies of the south. Moments later, a tiny flush of ducks bolted for the northwest.

Meanwhile, I ventured north, then west, to catch the route south. Real, true Yankee.

One

Lovely full moon earlier tonight, perched in the scraggly bare arms of a tree and crowned with a halo of frosty haze. One World? Right...maybe...we're so close we can't see it. One Moon? Yup, it's right there.

Think way way out there. Then look inward. That's a dare you can take.

How Lucky Is That?

Married 38 years. To the same person. Consecutive years, don't you know. Complete opposites, we are. Intelligence was the draw for me, and still is. Yes, cuteness counts - especially when you're longing for an opportunity to miss that spouse.

So I ask you, how lucky is that?