An early end to a week of subbing for 8th graders. The darlings. They’re so special. I love them. Seriously.

Camouflaging the dog poop in the back yard. Bonus for the frigid temps transforming an odorous, messy task into a popping-poopsicles-into-the-plastic-Target-bag adventure.

Providing when-I-was-your-age manual labor for the 18 year old.

An opportunity to witness the 17 year old put a real winter hat over her 45 minute hair.

Hearing the glee in the Teenagers’ voices as they leave the house 15 minutes earlier to de-ice and warm up their car.

An excellent reason to transition from Jack Daniels to Bun Warmers.

I am discombobulated. My god, that is a word. That one I looked up and wasn’t thrown into turmoil when I eyeballed it. Thank you Jesus.

If there’s one thing I’m good at, and it’s probably the only thing I’m good at, it’s spelling. As far back as I can reckon, my spelling neurons have been on full alert. I daresay people have traveled great distances to hear me spell. Just the other day, the seventeen year old walked at least four steps out of his bedroom and asked me how to spell demerit.

Correct letter order is to my life as, say, being right is to Rumsfeld or being the boss of Bush is to Cheney. The difference is, when in doubt, I look it up to be sure sure sure.

A dictionary in every room. A dictionary.com in every computer’s bookmarks.

Heretofore, spellcheck was an imposed annoyance in my life. Me? Rely on spellcheck? Psh. One, I know how to spell most words I write. Two, when I’m unsure or don’t know (hear that, Rum & Chen?), I look it up in a real dictionary. Yea. Merriam-Webster. Oxford English. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.

I know. Good god, woman. Land the damn plane!

An email to a friend. On a whim I used my email program’s spellchecker. Humph. Damn spellcheckers can’t even spell greatful correctly. No wonder I never rely on them. I smugly grabbed my hardcover Merriam-Webster just to delight in yet another expose`of spellchecker ineptitude.

Grateful. There it was. I’d like to say that I didn’t check another hardcover. I’d like to say that I don’t have three hardcovers in my house. I checked them all.

40+ years of greatful. I say 40+ since I’m quite certain that Sister Bernadine made it a penmanship practice word.

I’m gaming for another 40+ years of remedial grateful.