This blog is no stranger to “favorites” posts. I’ve mentioned in several of them how I love Fridays and all the summary posts of the week (well, add in Joy’s Sunday posts to that list.) Today, I’m splitting a bit from favorites and sharing some “not favorites”. This is not meant to be negative but just a bit of safe venting. Maybe?
Being a grammarphile
So, I thought I made up that word but then Googled it. Grammarphile is a word! The Urban Dictionary definition is, “A lover of all things grammar related.* **Not as harsh as the “grammar police”, but devoted all the same.”
The junior high I attended had a HIGH focus on grammar. At the time, I hated it but as I moved in to high school and college, I was forever grateful. The only problem is internal cringing in 2016.
Pioneer Woman tackles common grammar mishaps in her “Mean Ol’ School Marm” posts. I love them! She covers words that don’t exist like “irregardless” and “supposably” and also words I can never get straight like “further” and “farther”.
My two current cringes are as follows:
“I” and “me”. School Marm addressed this. Where I struggle most with this misuse is in photo captions. I read dozens of ministry newsletters a month and far too many have photo captions like this, “Joe and I at the Great Wall!” Nope. Take away Joe and you would never ever say, “I at the Great Wall!” Well, maybe you would but you shouldn’t. Somewhere along the way the word “me” has become negative in the minds of humans. It’s not a bad word. “Suzy and I went to the Great Wall.” Yes! “Suzy and me went to the Great Wall!” No.
“Who” and “that”. Olympic commentators butchered these two over the two-week coverage. I hear it on the news almost nightly. I hear it on podcasts. People “who” and things “that”. “It was Julie that just made that perfect dive!” Nope. “It was Julie who just made that perfect dive!” Yep. People “who” and things “that”.
Don’t get me started on “invite” as a noun…
I loved turning 30. I loved my 30’s. I loved turning 40. I have so far loved my 40’s. I like the freedom of getting older. At the tender age of 13 I remember reading the poem “When I’m an Old Lady I Shall Wear Purple” at a craft fair. I didn’t understand it. I do now. There is freedom and a smidge of “who cares?” that comes with a few years under your belt.
Now, on to belts. That’s what I don’t like about aging. I miss wearing belts. From 2008-2010 I worked really hard and lost 50 pounds. I wasn’t thin but I was at a very comfortable weight for those succeeding years. Well, two years ago things shifted. Age 43 brought the disappearance of my formerly tiny waist. Whether I was a size 6 or 18 (I’ve been both), I could always count on my small waist. It’s gone. 12 pounds have crept back in with no change in my diet or exercise. Those pounds have landed squarely between my knees and my ribs. Not cool. This spring I went to my doctor and begged for blood tests to find ANYTHING wrong with me. She called apologetically with all negative tests. Again, I have no desire to be thin but I do want to be healthy and the comfort of clothes fitting and not being tight is a true joy. Sigh. No part of me wants to eat only lettuce for the rest of my life. I’m at a place now of wondering if I just accept current reality or just eat lettuce. It’s probably obvious which will win out. Oh, and if you want to recommend a MLM weight-management system to me, you may restrain yourself. I’ve tried Plexus, Arbonne, and a few others. I’m allergic to most and Isagenix has ingredients I don’t like. I’m so happy if you enjoy them but they aren’t for me.
I want to be a woman who walks in the confidence of Who created her and in Whose image she is made. Lies creep in. Insecurities rise. It stinks.
Is there anything you are currently “not loving”? Feel free to vent. A friend walking through infertility told me recently how she’s so over Facebook birth announcements. Sure, she’s happy for those girlfriends but the in-your-face feeling can be crushing – especially when said baby is called an “oops baby”. I went through a week last month where I had to get off social media for all the friends locally taking their daughters to see a musical that had come to town. My heart aches to take a daughter to a musical. So, how about you? This is a safe place. Welcome to the no-judgment zone.