This Ain't No Spelling Bee

Picture it, Lord Baden Powell Elementary School library, sometime in the late 1980s, I am standing on a make shift stage, it is my first and last spelling bee. I remember I had convinced myself that I could win that thing, take home the big spelling prize. I am not sure where that false hope came from, I have never been a good speller, and my eight-year-old self was no different.

I was eliminated after my second word. The word was jewelry and, considering auto correct just fixed my spelling of jewelry (my version is jewellery), it is clear I have not progressed much in the spelling department over the last 20 years.

I am a very, very bad speller. I have no excuse. Yes, I have had a computer in my home most of my life but, we are talking old school computers here; my Commodore 64 did not have spell check. I can’t blame my poor spelling on technology. I just don’t remember how to spell words well and, honestly, it has never been a huge priority.

I always proof read extensively and am generally pretty good at putting out a polished piece of work, but apparently not all the time. The other day, my father, who out of parental obligation tends to be a fairly loyal reader of my blog, sent me an email chastising me for a recent blog post.

Hey Kim,

What.... were you having a bad day? Those situation, induces a trace, the just of it, imagines that he apart of it.

Maybee yoo've bin whaching to mutch Dancing with tha Stairs... or Hawchee!

Dad

Yup, that’s my Dad. He’s lucky. He is one of the few people I will allow to razz me that way and get away with it. I sent him an email back imploring him to give me a break. Sometimes I am busy and I need to get a blog post out fast; I am a mother of two very loud and demanding little boys and it is a wonder I even manage to have a blog with all my other obligations and responsibilities.

I tried to brush it off, it was no big deal, and it’s just one blog post right?

Wrong.

My writing is important to me, exceptionally important to me. My blog is one of the few things I can call my own; no one tells me what I can and cannot say, no one censors me. What I say and how I write it is a direct reflection of myself; therefore, having a well-written and well-presented blog is significant for me. If I put out shit, the only person I am hurting is myself… period.

No more excuses; perfect posts or no posts from here on in.

First little challenge: right now, this second, can I spell that word correctly from memory. Here we go: jewelry.

I did it. It took 20 years but I did it!