Mom! You are supposed to post also!

First off,  trying to write something everyday might be interesting, we will see how I keep it up, but fair warning, I will probably overshare.  I do that chronicly.  Here is a story about that, and its even a true one.  (Oh, I also overuse exclamation points, trust me, I probably leave out half the exclamation points that you would insert were you transcribing my speech).

Back to the story -My very first year of public school was 8th grade, and I was living with my father in a carribian island, going to school at the school on the local American army base.  Before that I had been going to a very small privet school that my mother had founded.  So this was my first time not going to school with the same 100(from pre-school to high school) kids I had known my whole life.  I assumed everyone knew everything about me, and it did not bother me in the least.  I think that might be because my parents raised me to be supremely confident that I was loved and adored, which is not a bad thing to be able to say about one's parents I think.

There were some things I loved, but I found English to be hard.  Not reading or speaking or learning rules, but actual writing had always been quite difficult for me.  I have dyslexia (I refuse to be ashamed of my spelling,  poor spelling is NOT a sign of low intelligence, my brain just works differently then your), and beyond spelling, getting my words onto paper or even a computer continued to be beyond difficult for me,* until fairly recently.  Only recently have I noticed writing has gotten, maybe more smooth? less terrifying ? (yes, Mom, you were right, with enough practice, I can do anything, its just that most people seem to be able to write but the time they are in high school...I had to wait until I was in my 40s for that practice to pay off!)

So, in the new school, I had an absolutely adorable English teacher, who I think was frankly, puzzled and bemused by me beyond belief.  He was an older gentleman, who I assumed was gay (you know the mannerisms that one assumes are associated with "gayness', but really are not.  And its really not that relevant, but its always something I think about when I remember him.  But he had us write these personal essays every month? and we would polish them up and rewrite them nicely, and then he would staple them to his bulletin board every month.  And I think the poor guy was frankly horrified at what I chose to include.  He never graded me down, but was always trying to gently guide me to slightly less personal comments.  

Oh, I think this might be why I always think of his presumed gayness.  One of the comments in one of my essasys he tried to steer me away from was something about how wonderful I felt when something ended, kinda like how wonderful it felt to finish bleeding after one's period.  And the poor gentleman was plainly worried that I would get teased and had that look on his face that some gay guys get when they talk about women's body (it's a different look then the disgusted look straight guys get). I refused to edit it out, and no-one every even noticed it I think, other then him, but I alway thought it was so sweet of him to try and protect me from my own over sharing.

*Facebook->writing for me Ok, on the topic of how Facebook has helped my writing.  Back when I started using Facebook, I was still very very tentative about writing anything.  It would never be good enough, so it just seemed like it would be so much work for something that was a bad product.  But I started just writing little small posts, but it was so off the cuff, that it never seemed to be a thing.  and then I could write longer and longer posts, and no one was jumping out of the woodwork and laughing at me, and...well, PRACTICE does make better...yes, mom, you are right!

I should probably do revisions on what I just wrote, but I'm not planning on doing many, if anyone besides my mother reads this, and I have been unclear, post a comment and I might explain better.
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Today's activities.  I felt better today, but not all the way better.  Like the weight on my chest feels like its 5 lbs, not 50lbs, and the thought is not AS sore, and I was able to do stuff, but I still got exhausted.  But I think I'll manage to recover without antibiotics.  I hope. I do take and believe in antibiotics, I just get massive yeast infections (TMI, see above), and getting rid of THOSE always seems harder then getting rid of whatever sickness the antibiotics were for.

But because I got all my projects sorted and away yesterday, I had nothing sitting there bugging me to start working on it.  so I lazed around a bit this morning, and it was cold enough I did not want my tea outside.  So instead I had my morning tea (no walk because of sick) in my comfy chair.  I worked on the AWFUL BORING odd sized blanket that J asked me to make for L because her mother started it. I also HATE HATE the yarn, it feels soft but its grabby so it does not pull effortly.  But this project is just row after row of single crochet.     Anyway, whine whine, pout pout.  Then I pulled used the chainsaw** on some of the wood in the back yard, and pulled in some of the piles of branches to the back patio ( I'll burn them Sunday mom, but I don't think I had the energy to both extract them from the grass that had started to entangle them on the same day) , and I washed and BRUSHED my hair (its been since Sunday?), and then I went out to lunch with Shari, K, and J. We went to cheddars, because I had been wanting to go there for a while.  it was ok, but I was not overly impressed.  for some reason, I had assumed that there would be cheddar biscuits.  I was going to hang out with Shari as her and her boys worked on cleaning her garage, but my lungs started nothing me the moment I spent a min in there! So I came home, and started a project that I think is going to be on hold until I get bigger crochet hooks.  Mike's co-worker's daughter is due to have a baby soon, and I want a baby blanket to send to her.  I want to do a star crochet blanket, but I want to do two threads together (quicker!) and the 6.5mm needles are producing too stiff a fabric.

 and then I read Proper English by KJ Charles (I recommend but the way!) while working on the second Janesville sweater.  And now I'm writing this, and then I might start reading Top Secret by Sarina Bowen.  Today's Listening was Hidden by Kendra Elliot (also both text and audio on KU)

**Chainsaw funny story: So, the chainsaw was not where I expected it to be, I looked in several places, but the husband has this habit of leaving things in the place where he is finished with them instead of finding or returning to an "away" place.  So I call him and ask him where the chainsaw is.  This will only be my second time using a chainsaw EVER.  But he blithly gives me directions to where he things it is, and it is , indeed, in that location.  and I'm about to sign off the phone call and he gently, hesitantly, delicately asks me..."mhm, what are you using it for?'  like, you know, it just occurred to him that his wife was asking him where this dangruos machine was... it was very cute.


OHOH!! and this very cute little guy was keeping me company while I used the chain saw.  My pictures don't typically end up this gorgeous, but this one, if I do say so myself is gorgeous!!!