those who can't do, teach?

It happens around once a year at around this time.

Summer ends. It gets windy. A tree falls on the phone lines. Meg is without a phone for a number of days.

Uh-oh. No dial-up.

Turns out there's a downside to living in a forest.

There hasn't been a great deal happening though, I must say. I had parent/teacher night (Reminding me, yet again, that I will never delude myself about my own child's academic potential.) Felix appeared with mysterious injuries to his paw. I watched a crime show for the first time in months.

The end?

Um.

Yes.

To be honest, It was pretty sad to observe myself trying to function without internet access.

I mean, I knew I was addictive - I smoked at least thirty cigarettes a day until about two months ago (Go me for quitting! Rah!) - but I didn't know I was addictive about this.

I had no idea.

Look. Really. Here is how badly I wanted to sit down and blog my life away: I even considered designing a unit of classwork based around Blogger so I could ask the tech-boys at school to unblock the site without looking suspicious.

Pathetic? Maybe.

But then, I'm writing again, aren't I?

And once, in my young person's naivety, I considered that a writer was what I was going to be.

Remember that expression?

Going. To. Be.

With two Year 12 English classes, I still hear it a lot.

Unfortunately.