Brought to you by the letter “W,” an a2z4u and me post.
WRITING. I wake up with words in my head. I go to bed with words in my head. Sometimes the challenge of extracting those words and putting them in print is enough to make me cry in frustration, and when the words flow like a river in spring run-off, it’s better than sex. Okay, maybe not quite, but it’s awfully close.
I think in words, not pictures. The recent move toward pictorial instructions and signage drives me crazy. Stick one of these pictorial signs in front of me and I feel like I’ve been presented with a Russian phrase to translate.
Did you know most people don’t have a perpetual stream of words running through their brains? That when asked to spell a word they don’t see a ticker tape of letters in their mind’s eye? In my opinion, that explains so much about the absolute WEIRDNESS of the rest of the population.(Seriously, thank goodness for ’em … otherwise I would still be trying to figure out how to operate some very common appliances.)
Have you noticed the general weirdness of the world lately? Have you wondered if weird should be spelled with an “i” before the “e” according to the rule? Somehow it seems appropriate that the word “weird” twists the rules of English, doesn’t it?
What those commercials don’t tell you is that Westies are only cuddly in the morning when they want you to get out of bed and get their food, and that after they nuzzle your nose they turn right around and lick their butts. On your pillow.
|Archie after recent skunk encounter.|
And they are never actually white. Like most white animals, Westies have a predilection for being dirty. Call it the instinctual desire for camouflage or the urge to get revenge for being forced to bathe, Westies do not like to be clean for any length of time.
All that said, I’ve never had a better dog. He’s uber-independent, only sits in my lap when he’s bribed with food, and thinks he’s in charge of the entire household, but I know he loves me. As I type this, Archie is curled up in his basket. The basket I have placed at the end of my desk. Yes, if I moved his basket somewhere else, he’d go there … it has nothing to do with MY location. Ah, well. If I had a needy dog I’d probably resent his neediness.With Archie I’m grateful for every scrap of attention he deems acceptable to offer.
Hmm… I’m sure there’s something amiss with that last sentence, but I can’t think about it now, Archie needs me!