Actually, there are 23 Schmenglish posts at RtB; I’ve just called about half them by different titles. But only 23 in four and a half years? That seems strange, now doesn’t it? Well, time for the return of the Grammar Hammer®. Behold, some incredibly picky, pedantic observations:

1. This morning, I read a comment that contained the saying, “It’s a doggy-dog world.” Actually, it’s a dog-eat-dog world, and that ain’t no lie. (Any Temps fans out there?)
2. I also read, “Feel free to contact Mrs. Smith or myself if you are interested.” OK, remove “Mrs. Smith or” from the sentence. Myself thinks that’s a really awkward use of a reflexive pronoun. But that’s just myself.
3. I plan to attempt to rain in reign in rein in my tendency to snark on about grammar.
4. My older son is the spit and image of his mama. (I’ve committed this transgression too, many times.)
5. We mustn’t “hone in on” a thing. If you want to narrow your focus, you “home in,” like a pigeon returning to its perch. Once you’re there, you can “hone” (or sharpen) it. I need to watch this one, too.
6. “We’ll goat him into giving up the secret password.” Actually, you’d never get it out of me unless you goad me. However, goading me into divulging it would definitely get my goat. Clear?

So many more, so little time. And of course, don’t take me too seriously; the above simply represent my particularly petulant predilection for pedantry. Please porgive pyself.

Pink out.

What’s going on here?

I woke up at 3:08 a.m. today, and I didn’t panic. Usually, it’s oh crap stop thinking stop thinking turn off your BRAAAAIN ah, nuts and I’m up for the day. But instead this morning, after pulling the blanket over my head, I woke up a minute later to find it was 4:59 — time to start the day!

Like I said on Facebook last night when PK asked about it — the melatonin thing is either a miracle or an excellent placebo. Either way, I’m getting the desired effect, and that’s all that matters. I think if you suffer from restlessness upon waking in the middle of the night, you should at least give it a try. I paid $11 for a bottle of 10mg tablets at the local Wally. I take one just before going to bed.

Of course, there’s always the “other side” of the debate. If I take this hormone artificially, will my system stop producing it on its own? I’ve done some cursory checking, and I really need to separate the peer-reviewed evidence from the “folk wisdom.” More on that another day, unless one of you philomaths want to check it out and separate wheat from chaff.

But for this week, we take the pill and drink the Kool-Aid. Whatever gets you through audition night.

Bring it!

Let’s do it. Shortened week, and hopefully productive on the school front. I’m psyched for auditions tomorrow night, and excited about a bunch of other stuff coming down the pike. The next three weeks will make me feel like I’m waiting to be shot out of a cannon, but I am determined to enjoy the thrill.

Factoid: After trying to explain my condition to the Thriller and not finding the right description, I searched my symptoms and found the word rugae, as it applies to my sore mouth after biting into an extremely ouchy-hot slice of pizza the other night. Who says you don’t learn anything at RtB?

And there we have it. A good week ahead — gofrit, fiends.

FO

I want to say them, but I won’t. But I want to. But I can’t. So I won’t. But I want to.

1.
Maybe you dont think about it at the time because youre thinking in a stream of consciousness but assuming we all know where you want to end a sentence is absurd i mean who does that it makes you sound ridiculous its also the height of laziness to never use an apostrophe or a capital letter seriously how hard is it and dont give me that crap about its only facebook you still look like a ninny so knock it off do you want your kids talking that way

2.

3.
Defiantly Definatly Deffinitly Deffly DEFINITELY, CRIPES PEOPLE

4.
Please, before you click “Share” to all your friends about how the makers of Dr. Pepper deliberately left out “under God” when they listed the Pledge of Allegiance on some promotional cans, or how President Obama wants to euthanize old people, or how Mitt Romney doesn’t know what a scrub brush is…check it out with Snopes.

Hmm. Does all this sound a bit snarkish? I guess it does. But it’s all in fun, really, and to prove it, you are free to go to my Facebook page and pick it apart, for I can take it as well as dish it out. Too many pictures of my grandchildren? Guilty. Too much complaining about the Browns and Indians? Dead-to-rights. There are probably more goodies to mine over there. Gofrit.

Hey, it’s Sumday and we get the Js tonight, yay! But first, there is much working to be done. Más tarde, fanáticos.

At least I’m getting stuff done, right? In these last two hours, I have:

1. bought Jake’s birthday presents
2. booked my hotel for when I attend my uncle’s memorial service in Illinois next weekend
3. paid bills (yay for payday)
4. touched up the gray roots in my hair
5. packed a bag for the overnighter we’re taking tonight

Speaking of Jake: it’s a rite of passage, I guess, but he has officially requested as a birthday gift “money to spend at the county fair” — the first time he’s asked for something other than toys. He’s a big boy now, going to be all of five years old and attending preschool school every day, taking swimming and gymnastics lessons, going boating with the family and working on cars in the shop with his dad. And the years fly by…

So, pony up your plans for the holiday weekend — what’s shakin’? Anything fun? We get back from Detroit tomorrow, then off to BFF Kay’s for dinner, then the Js, then Dinner Theatre work at school all day on Monday. It is Labor Day, after all. I shall toil at the mines.

Happy weekend to all — love dem Finkdays.