blue girl

Hopefully There's Not A Typo In This Headline

I thought I was somewhat literate and knowledgeable about things when I started my blog earlier this year.  I thought I knew some stuff cuz I had lived a little.  Had to have gotten something out of all this time going by besides laugh lines and achy knees.

Plus I'm the only one in my family that knows how to spell, which makes me feel a little superior.  Spellcheck can't even begin to help correct my husband's attempt at typing, say "superior."  I understand he's an art guy, not a speller guy, but I raz him about it anyway.  Doesn't stop him as I'm leaving his office to yell out the word S.H.R.E.W., letter by letter.  Didn't stop him just the other day from emailing me some artwork after I had had a mini-nervous breakdown, with this loving message: Here you go, you hose beast from hell!"

I emailed him back and wrote how proud I was that he had spelled every word correctly!  Only real soulmates could have that much fun together.  We laugh and we laugh and we laugh. 

But, I was about to discover how wrong I was in my assumption about my general knowledge.  Or lack thereof, I should say.  Like my great, great grandmother always used to say, just stop talking, you don't know jack.

For example, I never knew there was a word for accidentally swapping letters or syllables in a phrase, slight tips of the slung, so to speak.  But I was quickly educated by this gentleman.

I also never realized, until I started reading comment threads that *Classic Rock* did not describe the kind of music I like from the 70s, but this kind, this kind and this kind.  And this gentleman clued me in on that one.

I kind of know what a troll is now, but I've yet to encounter one.  Maybe I have and I just haven't recognized the little guy.  I'm so grateful for comments, I could be blinded by sheer joy.

God knows I didn't know for a long time how to upload a post.  Check! thanks to this guy.  How to create links with my post.  Check! thanks to this guy.  Then, how to add photos to my posts.  Check again! thanks to this guy.

The latest thing I learned was how to spell a new word when I was writing my post last night.  And if you take a gander at that post, you'll see I copied and pasted most of it.  Man!  Even my short little original writings take it out of me.  I should own stock in dictionary.com.  Oh wait.  That's a free service.  God knows I've never known a dang thing about economics.  Never claimed to, no way.  Can't get me there.  And I've got a very unbalanced checkbook to prove it.

Anyway.  It was this word that stumped me:  prerogative

I never would've spelled it that way.  I would have spelled it perogative.  But, I checked in with my trusty dictionary.  No, wrong.  Then the thesaurus.  No, I'm wrong again.  I didn't trust these sources. This word should not be spelled this way.  Look at how that word is spelled!  Say it out loud!

Doesn't it it sound like, if you pronounce it the way it's spelled, doesn't it sound like the way Scooby Doo would say it?  prrrerrrogatif!

So, I guess my great, great grandmother was right.  The older I get the more I realize I don't know jack.  But with a little help from my friends and dictionary.com and the thesaurus, I get to learn something new everyday. 

And now I'm going to end this post.  But, believe me, I'm gonna hit dictionary.com one last time before I do.

Phew.  I think I'm good.

Prolific, Romantic & Witty

It's too darn hot today to do much of anything.  So between watching our new kitten, Oliver attack the couch pillows and catching bits and pieces of the movie "P.S." starring Laura Linney and Topher Grace (has anyone seen this movie?  is it any good?)  Well, between all that, I've been reading about George Bernard Shaw.  I'm not sure how I came upon him.  You know, you link and then you link and then you link.  Who can remember how the whole thing ever gets started.

Anyway, I wanted to post some funny and romantic (and odd) *stuff* he wrote.  (Would George Bernard Shaw ever use the word "stuff" when writing?  I didn't know him and stuff, but my guess would be: no.)

NOTE TO WINSTON CHURCHILL:

Am reserving two tickets for you for my premiere.  Come and bring a friend -- if you have one.
(note inviting Churchill to the opening of Saint Joan)

Churchill was more than a match for this one.  He replied asking if it would be possible to have tickets for the second night -- "if there was one."

ODDBALL QUOTE:

I like flowers.  I also like children, but I do not chop off their heads and keep them in bowls of water around the house.

....veddy intadesting (I'm not sure how you'd spell it but you get it right?)

LETTER SHAW WROTE TO BRITISH ACTRESS, MRS. PATRICK "STELLA" (BEATRICE) CAMPBELL:
If I read correctly they were married to other people at the time.  Shaw wrote the part of Eliza Doolittle in Pygmalion for her.  Considered one of the greatest stars of her generation, she was also known for her beauty and wit.

Shaw to Stella:

I want my rapscallionly fellow vagabond.

I want my dark lady.  I want my angel --

I want my tempter.

I want my Freia with her apples.

I want the lighter of my seven lamps of beauty, honour,

laughter, music, love, life and immortality....I want

my inspiration, my folly, my happiness,

my divinity, my madness, my selfishness,

my final sanity and sanctification,

my transfiguration, my purification,

my light across the sea,

my palm across the desert,

my garden of lovely flowers,

my million nameless joys,

my day's wage,

my night's dream,

my darling and

my star....

I think the movie, "P.S." is supposed to be a love story, yes?  But from what I've seen of it today, it doesn't hold a candle to this love letter. 

They don't write 'em like they used to, do they?

My Universe Is Expanding

Alright, listen up all you smarty pants-ezze.  I’m learning things in my 40’s that most of your learned in your 20’s.  And some of you learned when you graduated from kindergarten (you know who you are).  Damn you!  Damn you, squared!

I get such a kick out of a new idea, a new thought and I always want to share.  Problem with this crowd though is that most of you have heard it all before.  Well, too bad.  Get ready to be bored.  If you’re not nodding off, and even if you are, remember, God is watching you.  You had better read on.

I just bought a book called, “The making of a philosopher, my journey through twentieth-century philosophy,” by Colin McGinn. 

You say you taught along side of him and he was a putz?  You say you were a student of his and he gave you a “C” because he didn’t understand that you really, really, really tried? 

Well, don’t tell me that.  I want no comments of that sort in response to this post.  I want every single comment to be philosophical.  I want you all to be above that.  Here goes, get this -- here’s the basic gist:

McGinn has discovered Descartes through a beloved teacher and the teacher teaches: 

We all, whether we believe in God or not, we all know what the definition of God is.  The definition of God is all-perfect.  Above all, above everything.  All knowing.  Absolute perfection. 

So the people that question God’s existence?  Well, guess what?  Not to exist is imperfect.  To not exist is not perfect.

So, if the definition of God is all-perfect -- and not to exist is imperfect -- God exists.

I know some of you will think and comment that you’ve never, ever thought that the definition of God is all-knowing and all-perfect. 

Because why do we have war?

Why is George W. Bush president?

Why are there starving children?

The list is endless, I give you that.

Ok for you then.  But to me, this is a way cool thought.

And when I found my new friend, Res, my eyes perked up when I saw his tag line up top:  “We put Descartes before the Whores!”

I got it!  And so would God.  Because to be perfect would definitely mean to have the ability to laugh at that line.

That’s all I’ve got to say.  Now you all can go back to the smarter things you were doing.