Dear you,
Today, as I was eating dinner on the back porch overlooking a well-tended lawn and surrounding forest I noticed something I hadn't before. An art form. It was sometimes graceful, sometimes chaotic. What was it?
Corn. On the cob, specifically. And not just the corn, it was the eating of the corn. I never realized before how specific a routine can be. My aunt ate her corn in sweeping rows, leaving perfect right angles in her path. My uncle, however, bit furiously at the corn. Munching, chewing, ravaging it (it wasn't gross, like I'm making it sound; promise), leaving a muddled cob left wondering what had just happened.
Me, you ask? Surely I must have some fiercely descriptive way to describe how I eat my corn. Well, the truth is...I don't really. If I had to try though I would say I'm more of just a messy, kind-of-in-rows, leaving-half-the-corn-behind kind of girl (and the other half is in my teeth).
I can't honestly explain why I thought this post up. It really just started coming to me. One of those weird "writer moment"'s I suppose.
Oh and I thought of the perfect way to avoid saying you assume (something you should never do). Just say you presume. Yes, the same meaning, but with no clever English tricks to go along with it.
Alright, that is all for now.
Goodnight, all.
Sincerely, me
Ah, it WAS corn eating methodology you were going to write about. I'm a strictly eat it in rows, left to right and return kinda person. But considering how well ordered and predictable I like my life to be, this should be no surprise.
ReplyDeleteAnd I like the presume/assume thing. I'll have to remember that.