Grammar &tc.

Does that title actually even mean anything? I know! I'll ask Grammar Girl!

You may be surprised to note that Grammar Girl ≠ The Grammar Queen . This grammatical wunderkind represents the best of all grammar geekdom: a technological outlet for grammar nerds and grammar noobs, online access to "Down and Dirty Grammar Tips" (oh heck yeah!), and blogiferousness.

In fact, I know she'd probably HATE my verbarianism - despite its cleverness, it's also a bit, oh, I dunno, silly.

It's Language Day on ktg, and I've got some other sites that will tickle your linguistic fancy... especially if you're a teacher that tires of the disparity between content and construct... medium and message... idea and presentation... readability and oh good grief did you even proofread this??:

• A Sesquipedalian Haven
  ~my reaction: Word Geeks to the extreme. Feel smarter, and realize that you are not alone!
  
  
• Dr. Ralph Alan Cohen's "39 Picky Rules"
  ~my reaction: One of the best professors I have ever, EVER had, graduate school included. Not only is he a Shakespeare scholar, the man actually teaches his students how to write. AND he's funny. The man makes grammar and style humorous, if you can believe it.
  
  
• "High Brow" T-Shirts from One Horse Shy
  ~my reaction: Too. Perfect.
  Bad Grammar
  Loosers.
  
  ... and OH so many more.
  

Have at 'em.

The great escape.

Ever feel like this? (you should hear the audio!)

As the end of the semester nears (approaches - draws nigh - looms - threatens - etc) I realize that I seem to feel the turn of the year much more at this time than at the traditional Dec 31/Jan 1 of the Julian calendar. The reason for this reflection is, of course, the years of "schooling" that I've "undertaken" (undergone? underwent??)

In fact, I'm so overwhelmed by the weight of my reflections, that I find I have started this blog post more than six time, with no forward motion. I am floating in a vast ocean of recollection and introspection, searching the only now visible shore of the future for some clue, some idea, of the land I'm approaching. (how's that for an extended metaphor, John Donne!)

Anyway, I still feel compelled to write something (with an obvious preference for that "something" to appear in italics most of the time), even though I'm essentially circumnavigating the issue(s) itself (themselves...hmm.) Time itself may be a problem, since I don't feel I can do justice to my thoughts at the moment. Perhaps after class today.

As to an update, I have discovered a deep, abiding love for the IRS.



(pause)



Riiight.


I had to file an extension with those lovely folks because somewhere amidst my seven (yes, SEVEN) W2s, someone decided to mess it all up and not include my hundreds of dollars of income taxes that I've already paid this year.


Thank my lucky stars for my father - for years, because of an off-hand comment he made when I was 14, I've kept every single pay stub. I hated it; the file folder stuffed full of ragged half-sheets, the sorting every two years, the random stub I neglected to file discovered in my school bag ... my karate bag... my knitting bag. Yet, this year, I learned that, for about the umpeen-millionth time, my dad was right. I told him that, too, and he was less exultant about my admission than I expected: humble, even. He's a great guy, my dad.

I guess, more later. For now, read my yearly April poem from Langston Hughes at the VERY bottom of this page.

AND... be sure to check out the brewmeister's page for pics of he and the eJ's new glorious baby, William.

AND... get your daily dose of (public domain) literature here. What a cool concept!

God is greater than a pair of broken glasses.

I learned that this week. Or, perhaps I should say, re-learned it. Again. For probably the 400-millionth time.

So, Tuesday didn't start as swimmingly as I'd intended. Pretty much like every morning for the past several weeks. Despite the fact that I am achieving a ludicrously luxurious 6-7 hours of sleep every night (that is not sarcasm, by the way. That's truly lavish for me), I cannot seem to get to work at my preferred time of 8am. I know that I lose money for every moment that I'm not sitting at my corner desk, grading little 5th grade essays for the Gret' Stet' of Gawgia;I know that I should get up and go for a run, go to the gym, stretch out, do something physically productive; I know that I'm just wasting time for no real purpose, adding to my financial and, subsequently and consequently, personal stress. But I cannot get out of bed at a reasonable time or pace. I have no excuse, but I'm still asking for advice! Three alarms isn't working anymore.

So. Tuesday. Same thing, except, I was ready to be at work by 9, a significant improvement over the 9:45-ish arrival time. * And then.

I was feeding the cats, as usual. Scoop for Galaxy, scoop for Xander, make sure they're eating out of the right bowls (territorial little things) everyone's happy... I stand up and take a step forward, towards the kitchen. Apparently, my legs and feet were propelling me faster than the upper half of my torso could manage, because as I stepped and straightened up at the same time Wham!. Into the doorframe goes my face.

Yes, ladies and gentleman, I walked into a door. Frame. Glasses first.

[insert joke about Bryan and trying to "cover up the truth." Nope. I really am that clumsy. Besides, you all know that anyone hits me better run for cover 'cuz girl don't play that. Kiai and everything.]

Thus, my trusty frames that have lasted through three opticians, three prescriptions, and four years went kablooooie onto my kitchen floor. Well, perhaps I overdramatize. One of the "arms" broke completely off. They're plastic frames, so there's almost no "fixing" to this type of break. Begin crying session. Not for sentimental reasons, but (and I'm fairly ashamed to say this) because it all felt so unfair. On top of all of the other bills and creditors and lack of finances, it was ONE MORE THING. And not a small MORE THING either.

I got it together (sort of...) and decided to try to go to work on the eJnan's advice: situate the glasses over my ear using the one remaining arm. Silly-looking, but probably workable.

On the way there, as my heart was dark and hopeless-feeling, I suddenly remembered my little brother's b-day gift. He had, with outstanding generosity and love, transferred some extra funds to my bank account. It was a surprise that I learned of just the previous afternoon. It was enough to cover a pair of frames. (wait, it gets better!)

I decided to call in to work and go to the optician instead. I'm starting to feel a little better - I called my little bro and told him where the money was going, and we laughed - actually laughed about the situation. He reminded me about something my dad likes to say: "If all you're worried about is money, then you've got nothing to worry about." (still gets better!!)

As I walked into Five-Points Eye Care , I felt sheepish, but hopeful. And THEN I remembered (the memories were just flooding back that day) that one of Bryan's good friends was an optician there. He called around to find someone to fix my glasses; no go. He said he'd spend the week trying to find just the front piece of my frames, to save some money. AND THEN he popped out my lenses, picked up a pair of Coach frames from the display, and popped my lenses in that set of frames. Mine for a week, so that I can go to work. I can work. AND THEN!!!! The optometrist called (today) to tell me that he'd extend my prescription until October, so all I have to pay for is frames: no lenses, no eye exam.

Point being?

God is greater, and infinitely more loving (and forgiving of my pride) than a pair of broken glasses. Or even I am to myself. I definitely feel more humble and trusting than I did earlier this week. I guess sometimes the people around me, from Bryan & Jenna's encouragement, my brother generousity and love, my optician friend's accommodations, are evidence of God's hand in my life. Again. As usual.

Man, I have a LOT to learn - even stuff I think I've learned I have to keep getting a review.


~~~~~
* For those of you who don't know, I do not have a "set" time to get to work, just guidelines for hourly commitments every week. (Sorry, not a very fun footnote. I suppose, however, that it probably serves more closely the actual function of a footnote than my usual notes. Except for the rest of this, of course.)