The writing teacher who never writes or Dad and gifts

I don't write enough.  I'm not sure that I can really blame it on a 'time' thing.  I think it's a fear thing.  this irrational, someone will realize I'm full of pooh and stink at my job, kinda thing.  See, I don't write that well.  I can read and analyze and construct, but I just don't write well.  I have ideas, tons of ideas, but they all end up coming out in a jumbled mess of misspelled words and run on sentences.  I write like I talk, fast and with out much thought.  That has gotten me into trouble a number of times.  But, I think it's time to challenge myself.  I will write more.  At least once a week, Sunday nights I will blog about SOMETHING.  My life is neither dull or unimportant.  I have just as much going on as the next mom, I just post most of it on Facebook :) 

Tonight, I think I'll write about Christmas, 'tis the season and all.  I hate people who shop this time of year.  Not just shop in general, but shop for themselves.  There was a time I had to tell my dad to NOT buy himself anything during December.  On a number of occasions he bought the gift my mom had already gotten him.  It would make her so super mad.  I just don't get it.  It's like he didn't want us to get him anything.  Maybe we should have taken the hint?

I have basically stopped buying him what he wants and just getting him something I want for him.  That's more fun for me anyway.  This year, I have no clue.  Mom gave me something he needs, but I want to pick something, but I have NO IDEAS!  What do you get for the man who worked two jobs to put you through college?  Who prayed for you every night?  Who worried when you were late coming home(even when you were in your 20's)?  the man who tried to teach you math, but just made you cry?  Who gives you, still to this day, almost everything you want?

I have a great dad.  He makes me vary angry sometimes, and he worries way too much.  But the old man loves me, and I love him. 

Wow, that train did not go where I thought it would, but that is life.  Trains get derailed, or maybe we just didn't know where we wanted to go?