This is another discombobulated post because I can't seem to pull my brain together to come up with anything remotely sensible.
School . . . this morning during our first block of Writing we were talking about contractions. As in when you combine two words and use an apostrophe to take the place of some of the letters. I asked if someone could explain to me what a contraction is. One of my sweet, sweet little boys raised his hand so proudly so I called on him. His response, "It's what a lady gets when she's about to have a baby." Y'all I almost died. It took everything in my power not to bust out laughing. I acknowledged the correctness of the answer, and then quickly steered the class back to grammar. There will be no reproduction talk in fourth grade. Wrong grade. Wrong class.
Running . . . I'm stuck in a running rut. Actually, last week I kind of fell off the wagon. We had something going on every night, and I just didn't have the time
Fire . . . Last night while running I noticed smoke. So being the brain surgeon I am, I decided to run toward said smoke. Ummm . . . yeah . . . smoke and running don't mix. Needless to say a lovely coughing fit ensued. The smoke turned out to be from a burning cotton bale. By ten o'clock last night our neighborhood was full of smoke. We were reassured that the cotton bale would not catch anything else on fire. I didn't believe the reassurances. I couldn't sleep last night. Nothing else caught on fire. Shows what I know.
Weather . . . This is beautiful. Do you see Friday?!? Say what? Beautiful!
Now that we're breaking into the eighties soon, I'll need to go dig out my winter clothes.
The End
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