The typo. What is there to say really? Other than the typo is annoying and obnoxious and really hard to find. Especially when you are the one who created it.
It's like the Where's Waldo of your own personal blogging universe.
Usually, every day, okay not everyday but very very often, when I read something written by someone else I find a typo. Even in novels that were edited by professionals (ahem) I find them and I will admit, right here, right now, it brings me relief.
If there can be a typo in a Timothy Findley book then I'm not going to worry so much about the fact that they are all over my blog.
On average I read my posts 734,982 times before I post them. I'm not the best typist so I feel there needs to be a level of devotion to the proof reading.
And I am nothing if not devoted.
Yet, more often than not, I'm sure, I miss something. It's hiding there. The word to instead of you. Or form instead of from. Or, heaven forbid, there instead of it's best buddy their. Buy and not by.
All of these travesties I am guilty of. But just remember that you probably are too. And if you're not then I bow down to your amazing abilities in regards to the keyboard.
Yeah I could probably name ten bloggers who NEVER have typos but for every ten there are at least 100 who do, on occasion.
I think it shows our perfect imperfections. And I like it. I respect the fact that others, too, struggle with the editing unbeknownst to them. It unites us. Brings us closer. Like a family. A family of bad spellers. A forgiving family of bad spellers.
Or bad proof readers. Whatever. We're a family.
Sometimes I have people point out my typos and I like that. Don't get me wrong. I don't want an inbox full of emails from people thinking they're doing me a huge favour by pointing out my incessant flaws. But as one loyal friend put it, "Its like pointing out the broccoli in your teeth. That's what friends are for."
Yes, ma'am, that is exactly what friends are for.
I mean, really, do I want to be walking around with broccoli in my teeth? No, sir, I do not. And I love broccoli, so.................
Sometimes I go back and read posts I've written months and months ago and see the typo that hundreds of others have seen. Hundreds. And not me. Until now. How is that even possible?
Well it is. I am proof of that.
It got me to thinking. I figure, why shouldn't something awesome come out of all this disappointment? So to you, I issue a challenge of sorts. The next time you see a typo in my writing do me a favour. Go to the bathroom mirror and say three put-ups to your reflection. Affirmations, if you will.
Something along the lines of this.
And consider it my gift to you. Something good out of something so horrific.
The typo.
Again, you're welcome.
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
burgled
I've been burgled. And yes, it's a word. Look it up.
This morning when I got into my truck I was wondering why the glove box was open. And then I wondered why the centre console was open. And then I started to wonder what the man was looking for in his haste this morning.
And then I started to wonder why my burned cd's were all over the place. And then I wondered why the contents of the centre console were all over the seat. And then I wondered why the ash tray was open and hanging on by a thread.
Oh what? Don't act like you are all put together and super sleuthy in the morning. My wheels needed time to start turning. I have a head cold remember?
It was when I saw the sunglass holders in the roof of my truck open that I knew it was not the man rummaging for something but a stranger digging through my truck looking for something to steal from me.
Burgled. I was.
I tried to muster feelings of violation and dismay. Who would do such a thing? And in this neighbourhood where people are old and how did the burglar know I wasn't old and who would rob an old person?
I couldn't find the strength to get any further than that in my realization that I had been pillaged and plundered. That was as much alarm as I could assemble.
And this is why.
I have nothing of value in my vehicle. I barely have anything of value in my house. So if you want to rob me this is the list of things you can expect to steal from my truck:
One sugarplum lipgloss that may or may not be 7 years old.
Seven mix CD's that may or may not play because they, too, are old and scratched and unloved.
One Mamma Mia soundtrack. It doesn't have Chiquitita on it so........
One pair of sunglasses with one broken arm.
A plate. I don't know.........
Three dirty socks that don't match each other.
One flip flop. Yes, just one. Where is the other one? Again, I don't know.
A colouring book and 3 broken crayons from Boston Pizza.
Many many many sucker sticks and/or candy wrappers.
No pop cans because I cleaned them out yesterday.
A day late you burgling punk. Could have had at least 75 cents for that.
It helps to be a little bit trashy. And by a little bit I mean a lot trashy. Because the only thing of value I had in the truck was the loonie I keep in the ashtray for Superstore.
He stole my Superstore loonie.
So, my fair burgling friend, I hope you spend that loonie wisely and not all in one place. And next time? Just knock and I'll give you one of the children to sell on the black market.
I'm sure you'd get more than a buck for any one of them.
This morning when I got into my truck I was wondering why the glove box was open. And then I wondered why the centre console was open. And then I started to wonder what the man was looking for in his haste this morning.
And then I started to wonder why my burned cd's were all over the place. And then I wondered why the contents of the centre console were all over the seat. And then I wondered why the ash tray was open and hanging on by a thread.
Oh what? Don't act like you are all put together and super sleuthy in the morning. My wheels needed time to start turning. I have a head cold remember?
It was when I saw the sunglass holders in the roof of my truck open that I knew it was not the man rummaging for something but a stranger digging through my truck looking for something to steal from me.
Burgled. I was.
I tried to muster feelings of violation and dismay. Who would do such a thing? And in this neighbourhood where people are old and how did the burglar know I wasn't old and who would rob an old person?
I couldn't find the strength to get any further than that in my realization that I had been pillaged and plundered. That was as much alarm as I could assemble.
And this is why.
I have nothing of value in my vehicle. I barely have anything of value in my house. So if you want to rob me this is the list of things you can expect to steal from my truck:
One sugarplum lipgloss that may or may not be 7 years old.
Seven mix CD's that may or may not play because they, too, are old and scratched and unloved.
One Mamma Mia soundtrack. It doesn't have Chiquitita on it so........
One pair of sunglasses with one broken arm.
A plate. I don't know.........
Three dirty socks that don't match each other.
One flip flop. Yes, just one. Where is the other one? Again, I don't know.
A colouring book and 3 broken crayons from Boston Pizza.
Many many many sucker sticks and/or candy wrappers.
No pop cans because I cleaned them out yesterday.
A day late you burgling punk. Could have had at least 75 cents for that.
It helps to be a little bit trashy. And by a little bit I mean a lot trashy. Because the only thing of value I had in the truck was the loonie I keep in the ashtray for Superstore.
He stole my Superstore loonie.
So, my fair burgling friend, I hope you spend that loonie wisely and not all in one place. And next time? Just knock and I'll give you one of the children to sell on the black market.
I'm sure you'd get more than a buck for any one of them.
Monday, February 6, 2012
the snow angel update
My community newspaper showed up in the mail today. As I was perusing through it I found this article:
Low and behold, it's our snow angel. On his little green and yellow go-go machine.
The article talks about what he does for the community during the winter season and what their family receives in return, usually around the holidays.
The third paragraph says this, "This year, however, Mitch and his family got a special treat. Night after night, usually around 7 o'clock, there would be a knock at the door. By the time the Fulmeks could get up to answer the swift footed gift-givers were gone.
The Fulmeks were treated to a gift on each of the 12 days of Christmas, each more interesting than the last.
The anonymous gifts were a delightful part of the Fulmek holiday season."
Hmmmm.......how interesting. No?
There's even a little picture of the tag that accompanied the Five Golden Rings (glazed donuts).
This is truly the gift that just keeps on giving.
Low and behold, it's our snow angel. On his little green and yellow go-go machine.
The article talks about what he does for the community during the winter season and what their family receives in return, usually around the holidays.
The third paragraph says this, "This year, however, Mitch and his family got a special treat. Night after night, usually around 7 o'clock, there would be a knock at the door. By the time the Fulmeks could get up to answer the swift footed gift-givers were gone.
The Fulmeks were treated to a gift on each of the 12 days of Christmas, each more interesting than the last.
The anonymous gifts were a delightful part of the Fulmek holiday season."
Hmmmm.......how interesting. No?
There's even a little picture of the tag that accompanied the Five Golden Rings (glazed donuts).
This is truly the gift that just keeps on giving.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
lizzie sunday
Miss Lizzie would like you to know that she had two poops today and only one was on the hardwood.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
a saturday catch up
People, I have a cold. And no one cares.
It's not a bad cold. I did that once and it was horrible so I haven't done it since. I am deeply saddened, however, that this mini, one nostril plugged, headache/sinus ache, sore throat inducing cold has broken my 6 year streak of not getting sick.
It is a sad day to concede such a thing.
I think my pup might care. She'd be the only one though. She is whining a sad, haunting aria from her kennel. I am kennel training her and she is forced to stay there against her sad pathetic will. Poor little thing.
But I am forced to listen to her whine. Poor little me.
With a tiny sneezy, pressurized cold in my head.
And to boot. I have PMS. You know what? I haven't talked about PMS in a long time. Wanna talk about it?
No?
All right, then.
The man is cranky and unbearable. And the female teenager infuriated my PMS last night right before I went to bed. I was thinking about getting her a little gift for doing me such a solid. Maybe a bag of dog poop, lit on fire, right outside her bedroom door. I could knock and run away. That would learn her, right? And I have a dog now so getting poop is easy.
If I had a million dollars, or in this day and age it would have to be more like a billion dollars, I would build a place, a spa-like place, where women with severe PMS could go to get away from the morons, I mean people, who live in her house.
Doesn't that sound amazing? And all the women there would know that all the other women there are cranky and unreasonable and borderline insane so we would all stay away from each other. Sit in silence and read or sleep or smash stuff.
If I was rich I would give this to the world.
I'm nice like that.
Wait. Was I just talking about PMS?
So sorry. I do apologize.
Last night, the man came home from work and I was like "I'm so sick. I need you to take care of me." And he was all "Mmm hmm." And I was like "I'm hungry, make me dinner." I mean, after all, I make him dinner every night. And when he's sick I ignore him but at least I take care of his basic needs. And he was all........... He was all nothing. He did nothing. I had to make the kids macaroni for dinner while he watched tv. And then he went and made himself gourmet toast and I was like "HELLO!!! WHAT ABOUT ME? I'M SICK REMEMBER? I HAVE A COLD!!!!!"
And then he was rude to me so I made nachos and watched tv by myself. Which was probably for the best anyway.
And then the whole teenager thing happened and I was thinking to myself: Why is everyone in this house out to get me?
And then I started planning my spa. And developing a plan to raise a billion dollars. So I can ditch this joint for 6 days a month.
And now you are all caught up.
You're welcome.
It's not a bad cold. I did that once and it was horrible so I haven't done it since. I am deeply saddened, however, that this mini, one nostril plugged, headache/sinus ache, sore throat inducing cold has broken my 6 year streak of not getting sick.
It is a sad day to concede such a thing.
I think my pup might care. She'd be the only one though. She is whining a sad, haunting aria from her kennel. I am kennel training her and she is forced to stay there against her sad pathetic will. Poor little thing.
But I am forced to listen to her whine. Poor little me.
With a tiny sneezy, pressurized cold in my head.
And to boot. I have PMS. You know what? I haven't talked about PMS in a long time. Wanna talk about it?
No?
All right, then.
The man is cranky and unbearable. And the female teenager infuriated my PMS last night right before I went to bed. I was thinking about getting her a little gift for doing me such a solid. Maybe a bag of dog poop, lit on fire, right outside her bedroom door. I could knock and run away. That would learn her, right? And I have a dog now so getting poop is easy.
If I had a million dollars, or in this day and age it would have to be more like a billion dollars, I would build a place, a spa-like place, where women with severe PMS could go to get away from the morons, I mean people, who live in her house.
Doesn't that sound amazing? And all the women there would know that all the other women there are cranky and unreasonable and borderline insane so we would all stay away from each other. Sit in silence and read or sleep or smash stuff.
If I was rich I would give this to the world.
I'm nice like that.
Wait. Was I just talking about PMS?
So sorry. I do apologize.
Last night, the man came home from work and I was like "I'm so sick. I need you to take care of me." And he was all "Mmm hmm." And I was like "I'm hungry, make me dinner." I mean, after all, I make him dinner every night. And when he's sick I ignore him but at least I take care of his basic needs. And he was all........... He was all nothing. He did nothing. I had to make the kids macaroni for dinner while he watched tv. And then he went and made himself gourmet toast and I was like "HELLO!!! WHAT ABOUT ME? I'M SICK REMEMBER? I HAVE A COLD!!!!!"
And then he was rude to me so I made nachos and watched tv by myself. Which was probably for the best anyway.
And then the whole teenager thing happened and I was thinking to myself: Why is everyone in this house out to get me?
And then I started planning my spa. And developing a plan to raise a billion dollars. So I can ditch this joint for 6 days a month.
And now you are all caught up.
You're welcome.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
the little things
I'm up to my eyeballs in puppy training books and emails from people who want to help me train this little black goddess. I'll take all the help I can get.
She's doing great.
That being said after a giant poop and a puddle of pee at me feet. She's a sweet pup and clearly she thinks I am the gate keeper.
Because I am the gatekeeper. Maybe not Zuul quality but I'm working on the wardrobe now. And the moves.
Moving on. Some fun things have happened around here. Besides getting the dog. Other things. Other things do happen on occasion.
Numero uno. I won a ticket to BlogWest. And this is awesome because I just so happened to want to go to BlogWest and then kaboom.....I am going. Because it's free. Well, I would have gone anyway but now it's free. I love free.
I also need someone to dress me for this event. Where do chubby girls shop for cool clothes? And don't say Addition-Elle or I'll hunt you down and stab you.
Here's the slightly kooky story. Last week (I think), I was on the twitter. Twittering. As I so love to do in the evenings when my focus on the tv wanes and I find I'm need of distraction from my distraction.
I saw @blogwest2012 asked a question. Who is your favourite West Coast Blogger?
And me, in all my vain glory tweeted "ME! ME! ME!" Unknowingly entering myself into a contest to win a ticket to the conference.
And then I got a congrats tweet which prompted a quick 'whattheheckisgoingonintwitterland' timeline search. And low and behold.....I won a ticket!
Three hours after I bought one.
But they refunded the bought one because they are that awesome.
And then I couldn't sleep because I never win anything and I felt all 'look at me! I won something!' which is not conducive to sleep in the least.
The moral of that story? Toot your own horn. When applicable.
Then we got Lizzie and that has just been one super treat after another.
Feel free to read between the lines on that one.
But then.........
This morning, I sat down to read my fave blogs with my Diet Pepsi which, by the way, I only drink 2 a day of now, but this is not the point. I came across the newest posting of one of my top 5 favourite bloggers of all time. The one and only Ms. C Jane
She wrote, today, about making goals and achieving goals and how sometimes it's hard and that it doesn't matter the size of the goal. Goals achieved are goals achieved and that's worth their weight in goal'd.
Get it? Goal'd?
Anyway, she so graciously mentioned my sweet boys and their goal to get a dog. It took three years to get to that 100 days but they did it.
That mention blew up my blog today. We are talking thousands of hits. Thousands. The most blogging fun I've ever had in my brief blogging history. And I think it was probably a wee glimpse into the life of a 'world famous blogger'.
*Wink wink* C Jane.
Thanks for the fun Courtney. And remember......making your bed cleans up your room by at least 75%. I read that somewhere. I swear it.
It's the little things, people.
The little things.
She's doing great.
That being said after a giant poop and a puddle of pee at me feet. She's a sweet pup and clearly she thinks I am the gate keeper.
Because I am the gatekeeper. Maybe not Zuul quality but I'm working on the wardrobe now. And the moves.
Moving on. Some fun things have happened around here. Besides getting the dog. Other things. Other things do happen on occasion.
Numero uno. I won a ticket to BlogWest. And this is awesome because I just so happened to want to go to BlogWest and then kaboom.....I am going. Because it's free. Well, I would have gone anyway but now it's free. I love free.
I also need someone to dress me for this event. Where do chubby girls shop for cool clothes? And don't say Addition-Elle or I'll hunt you down and stab you.
Here's the slightly kooky story. Last week (I think), I was on the twitter. Twittering. As I so love to do in the evenings when my focus on the tv wanes and I find I'm need of distraction from my distraction.
I saw @blogwest2012 asked a question. Who is your favourite West Coast Blogger?
And me, in all my vain glory tweeted "ME! ME! ME!" Unknowingly entering myself into a contest to win a ticket to the conference.
And then I got a congrats tweet which prompted a quick 'whattheheckisgoingonintwitterland' timeline search. And low and behold.....I won a ticket!
Three hours after I bought one.
But they refunded the bought one because they are that awesome.
And then I couldn't sleep because I never win anything and I felt all 'look at me! I won something!' which is not conducive to sleep in the least.
The moral of that story? Toot your own horn. When applicable.
Then we got Lizzie and that has just been one super treat after another.
Feel free to read between the lines on that one.
But then.........
This morning, I sat down to read my fave blogs with my Diet Pepsi which, by the way, I only drink 2 a day of now, but this is not the point. I came across the newest posting of one of my top 5 favourite bloggers of all time. The one and only Ms. C Jane
She wrote, today, about making goals and achieving goals and how sometimes it's hard and that it doesn't matter the size of the goal. Goals achieved are goals achieved and that's worth their weight in goal'd.
Get it? Goal'd?
Anyway, she so graciously mentioned my sweet boys and their goal to get a dog. It took three years to get to that 100 days but they did it.
That mention blew up my blog today. We are talking thousands of hits. Thousands. The most blogging fun I've ever had in my brief blogging history. And I think it was probably a wee glimpse into the life of a 'world famous blogger'.
*Wink wink* C Jane.
Thanks for the fun Courtney. And remember......making your bed cleans up your room by at least 75%. I read that somewhere. I swear it.
It's the little things, people.
The little things.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
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