My Epitaph?

Bound for Heaven or bound for Hell

no one knows, but one thing's certain:

that gal could spell,

and reason her way out

until the devil's ears were hurtin'

One of my only claims to fame is winning my elementary school spelling bee. At the district level I went out on the word manna - as in the stuff from Heaven, by adding an 'h' somewhere in there. I blame it on the girl who puked right before I got up and the boy who fainted. At least I knew early on that I wasn't cut out for all that pressure of the "big time."

Anywho, since then I seem to have been blessed, more or less, in the area of linguistics.

When I try, I can use grammar rules to my full advantage. I can swing an accent and pick up foreign languages pretty handily. I can wordsmith and legal-ese anything. Picking apart words and their meanings? No problem. Logic and reasoning? With my brains tied behind my back. Compromise and the art of negotiation? Come on people, these are all weapons in my arsenal.

What I want to know now is, HOW COME NO ONE TOLD ME IT WAS GENETIC?!? I did not expect to have to use these finely-honed skills with my own children.

Okay, so none of them seem to be able to spell, but when it comes to the art of negotiation? I'm suddenly on the losing end. It is the primary reason that getting old stinks. While I can still hold my own with adults, I am mere putty in the hands of my capable children. Please, no one tell them.

I won't go down without a fight. Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!