Faux French spelling aside--I did it on purpose--I routinely find typos and editing jewels in my blog posts.
I do the best I can. I can reasonably conclude from recent history that my best is woefully inadequate. For example, a recent post contained the gem “tipped his hat to me other . . ." While it does offer a lovely Irish-esque lilt, it makes no sense.
At least I do eventually find them. When I do I go in and make the correction. Can’t help myself. Even if no one will every see it again I feel the need to make it right.
It’s my writing. It’s got my name on it. If I am going to make wild allegations about the Web that I am a writer, then I should make the copy as clean as I can.
I’d like to find someone or something to blame but I can’t. It’s all me.
Oh, sure, I had laser eye surgery seven years ago and that’s certainly a . . .well it definitely plays a . . . no, I can’t blame my eyesight or the weather or lack of chocolate or an improper chew toy regimen. I simply think that everything is as it should be when I post.
Later I find out that I am once again wrong.
All I can do is my best and hope I catch every slip of the finger later on.
If I don’t, then any chance we can write it off as part of my charm?
Bleak But Beautiful by The Pioneer Woman
4 hours ago