That is me, but no sympathies, please. You see, as a spelling-phobic writer, I feel blissful every time I spell a word correctly. It’s like finding the perfect flower for your garden.
Remember when you learned phonics in second grade? A,e,i,o, and u? You learned how to sound-out words. You could hear the difference between per and pre. Not so for me!
However, I discovered The Free Dictionary’s wonderful little speaker that sounds out words I misspell, and it has helped tremendously. So now, on the eve of my sixtieth year, I am finally learning to write!
P.S. Ditch the spellcheck. Then you’ll learn to spell.
A full moon at high-tide caused quite a bit of flooding after last night’s torrential rains. Nevertheless, this morning, Ms. White and Mr. Brown, aka blue-beard, are getting along together rather well after the storm. If only we could all be like the cranes in the bayou.
I recently rummaged up this photo of Princess, my eighteen year-old cat. Boy, she looks grumpy, yet I hadn’t noticed between all the nose kisses, mouse plays, cat-post scratching and napping she loved to do.
Three weeks ago, her mews told me it was time to see the vet. Before going, I made a quick call to Jesus even though I’m not a very religious person. Didn’t get the answer I was looking for, but I did recall my father telling me years ago that good people don’t let animals suffer. So we drove off.
I described to the vet how her meows had changed and how we had been best buddies for so long. Knowing love, the vet remarked, especially for so long, is a blessing, but sometimes letting go can be the kindest gift of all.
And so on that advice, I let my kitty move on and ended the suffering that kidney failure brings.
She is in a better place and I am forever grateful that I spoke meow.