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It's Monday. Let's POST
Jan. 4th, 2010 10:03 amI read this review about an interesting new book on the English language and its evolution and constantly changing ways. What I really like is the fact that he is keen to point out that various rules weren't handed down on high from some holy inspiration. It is often arbitrary and based on the fashion of the times. Over the years I have read a few books on the subject and while I am no expert, I think it has made me think differently about language and how we use it. I have friends (whom I love dearly) that worship like fundamentalists when it comes to grammar and punctuation and that is great. I am happy for them. (There is a religion for everyone. Be it Southern Baptist, Physics or Noah Webster) Sometimes though, it can be entertaining to see such a common tool used in unorthodox ways or to watch the path something might take. I think I also appreciate that the author wants to get across the idea that language isn't going to hell in a handbasket and "oh sweet lord" civilization is doomed doomed doomed. It could be that I am just bored with pessimism in regards to the path that society takes. There are always going to be dull people and sometimes it is just a better idea to avoid inviting them to dinner. On a slightly snarky note, the author of this book seems be such a fan/expert when it comes to Samuel Johnson that he rocks a hairstyle from the period. I dig that kind of devotion.
I went to bed late last night for a few reasons. Mr. Jenner was catching up on work downstairs so I was on my own with Miss Biscuit. I saw that Cranford was on PBS again. I thought, "oh hey I will just watch a little bit since it is on and I am stuck here holding a baby." Well I then had to watch all of it. I have the same problem with Ghostbusters. I have very little self control when it comes to bucolic long frock films and the comedic stylings of Harold Ramis. (important facts) What is kind of hilariously pathetic is that we have a copy of Cranford so it isn't like I can't watch it whenever I want; I was merely captivated by Miss Matty and the goings on. After it was over Miss Biscuit decided that it was time for a chat and she was doing her best to charm the socks off of me. I was sooooo sleepy but she just would not be put to sleep. Eventually around midnight I was able to convince her that semi-civilized people on a Sunday night need their rest. It wasn't a restful night. We then come to Monday morning. It is dark. It's 7am and it is raining. A proper start to everything after the holidays. It was kind of like being told, "Wake up clowns. There isn't going to be any fun so you better get your big girl pants on." At least it feels like that when you haven't had a great deal of sleep and you have actually been awake since about 5:30. (yay teething)
It really isn't all that bad. There was tea and crumpets and home-made jam for breakfast. Senor Onion is pretty cheerful except for the minor meltdowns where he doesn't want me to help him BY GOD despite the fact that he kind of needs some help. But whatever. That is merely retribution for the hell I put my Mother through because I was the same way. (I still am to a certain degree but we won't discuss that because we are nice. Though when my Mother reads this she will snort. I know Mrs. Chazbot well.) As it is dark and rainy we have watched Charlie and Lola and now we are working on blocks and the marble run. Though the marble run provides a fair amount of emotional anguish when things don't go right. I am tempted to hide it for awhile.
Now to face the laundry.
Again.
I went to bed late last night for a few reasons. Mr. Jenner was catching up on work downstairs so I was on my own with Miss Biscuit. I saw that Cranford was on PBS again. I thought, "oh hey I will just watch a little bit since it is on and I am stuck here holding a baby." Well I then had to watch all of it. I have the same problem with Ghostbusters. I have very little self control when it comes to bucolic long frock films and the comedic stylings of Harold Ramis. (important facts) What is kind of hilariously pathetic is that we have a copy of Cranford so it isn't like I can't watch it whenever I want; I was merely captivated by Miss Matty and the goings on. After it was over Miss Biscuit decided that it was time for a chat and she was doing her best to charm the socks off of me. I was sooooo sleepy but she just would not be put to sleep. Eventually around midnight I was able to convince her that semi-civilized people on a Sunday night need their rest. It wasn't a restful night. We then come to Monday morning. It is dark. It's 7am and it is raining. A proper start to everything after the holidays. It was kind of like being told, "Wake up clowns. There isn't going to be any fun so you better get your big girl pants on." At least it feels like that when you haven't had a great deal of sleep and you have actually been awake since about 5:30. (yay teething)
It really isn't all that bad. There was tea and crumpets and home-made jam for breakfast. Senor Onion is pretty cheerful except for the minor meltdowns where he doesn't want me to help him BY GOD despite the fact that he kind of needs some help. But whatever. That is merely retribution for the hell I put my Mother through because I was the same way. (I still am to a certain degree but we won't discuss that because we are nice. Though when my Mother reads this she will snort. I know Mrs. Chazbot well.) As it is dark and rainy we have watched Charlie and Lola and now we are working on blocks and the marble run. Though the marble run provides a fair amount of emotional anguish when things don't go right. I am tempted to hide it for awhile.
Now to face the laundry.
Again.
