So I'm chatting with Jessie today before the arrival of my new computer shuts things down. She was working on a Quality Control Manual and needed some grammar advice. "You know what you should do?" she asked excitedly. "You should have a grammar question with an answer every week. People like me would learn something."
I'm flattered that Jessie thinks I can impart some knowledge of grammar to the general world that reads my blog. I'll admit it has appeal. I like language. I like falling into words and using them to say what I want to say. Humpty Dumpty said, "Words mean exactly what I choose them to mean, no more and no less." I try to be precise, but, as friends have noticed, when I get angry, my sentences become clipped and I am very likely to use language as a sword, cutting a broad swath of verbal destruction through conversations and communications. I tend to retreat into the language I love and surround myself with big words because I know what they mean and I know how to use them.
I belong to a group called SPELL, Society for the Preservation of English Language and Literature. If I were to do such a weekly column, I would have no farther to look than their bi-monthly newsletter, Spellbinder, for my ideas and the answers with which to justify a position. But do I want to hector you about your language?
We've got the Gray Watch going. I could recount the dates I've had as I have struggled to find even a movie companion. Some people know of the sordid details. Some do not. Without naming names, it could be at once hugely funny and, at the same time, exceptionally tragic.
I have entertained (and then discarded) the idea of weighing in with my political views. But I want all my friends, even those who disagree with me on some political positions, to feel welcome to post without fear of inciting a flame war in my comment thread. And really, you get enough political discourse shoved in your face every day, let's not find it here.
I am thinking of a thoroughly unobjective sampling of chocolates from the various chocolate shops in the Chicagoland area. Now there's an idea we can sink our teeth into.
And I've thought of lifting an idea from Jessie's blog from early this year and taking a photo a day. But what if the photo is of phlox and I'd rather discuss what idiot tosses their cat out at night where there are raccoons, opossums, foxes and vehicles just waiting to pounce on it. Plus, it shows up on my deck and looks in my back door and upsets Rascal tremendously. Tonight's cat was a new one for my yard and Rascal was asleep on my bed so I was not treated to a hissing angry cat.
I have a feeling, as I wander down this road I have found, I won't lack for ideas. I can always gripe about the weather.
Beverage: Tail end of a mug of English Teatime, cold.