I can't believe, with as much as I talk to myself, the walls, the air, and anyone that I can force to sit still long enough to listen, that I was having a hard time beginning a blog. I haven't written in my journal in well over a year, mostly because I tend to begin in the middle (Cathy says I have pragmatic problems-that's speech pathologist lingo for God-only-knows-what...) and I think too darn fast for my pen to keep up. My fingers, too, for that matter. Blogging will either force my brain slow down a bit, or make me the first person to be able to type over 1000 wpm.

I was driving home this evening thinking about a story/essay(?) that I had written when I was in sixth grade. Of course, I don't have it anymore, or the story I spent most of 7th grade English writing, but both pieces stood out very vividly. I think I might be able to recreate them. I decided back then that the correct word for intricately detailed was ornerate. How disappointing to learn that the correct word was ornate. I still think that ornate is a rather harsh word for what I wanted to describe. Ornerate, while looking softer, now strikes me as a rather odd combination of ornery and ornate!