dot your dots

Since starting my self-imposed hiatus from blogging, I have had several requests to return. Some as comments on old posts, several emails and phone calls by those who know me personally, and also one highly publicized suicide. But now redballoon has had her say, and, truth be known, I can't say no to redballoon.

So let me tell you about my 3rd grade teacher. She was a nasty hagling. During some sit-in-the-corner-listening-to-headphones lesson, my friend Matt wouldn't stop telling me to dot my i's. And then he said, "dot your dots" and I said "what?" and that lady grabbed me and made me stand in the garbage can for the rest of the lesson.

It's not really a funny story because she was such a nasty piece of terrible, but I still get a chuckle imagining myself in that grey/green can. My friend 'Nine' and I almost got kicked out of an adult education class on ethics because we couldn't stop tittering at the image of an eight year old version of me standing there wishing hot death on that wicked woman. When I think of it, I can feel how short I was. The top of the can only came up to my waist.

And you see folks (here's the bag, and the cat's comin' out of it), redballoon is short. She's short and laughs a lot and when she's mad she might just have to kick your ass.

(and she feels a little bad for the hag-beast because she knows just how exasperating I can be)