Are my eyes crossed yet?

That's what I always ask Robert when he starts giving me waaaay more detail about something than I want to know. Like when I ask him what kind of fuel an airplane uses and he gives me the history of flight, or I ask him what time it is and he tells me how to make a watch.

(True story: when the kiddo, my sister, bil, and nephew visited Kitty Hawk, there was a marker several feet high out on the "runway" the Wrights used. The women next to me were truly amazed at what good pilots the brothers must have been to be able to take off without ever hitting that marker.)

Anyhoo . . . back to boredom. Have you ever read Roberts Rules of Order? It's so dry that it could gag a maggot. I can't keep focused on it. There's no action. No plot. No characterization. No dialogue. Absolutely nothing of interest.

So why am I bothering? Because my alter ego is the newly-elected president of our fabulous writers' group (*I* prefer the title of "Princess of All She Sees") and the first meeting where she/we will serve in that function is coming up this Saturday. I don't mind making a fool of myself in public, but she tries to maintain some measure of dignity. She likes to get things right -- corrects other people's misspellings, uses grammar and punctuation the way a writer's supposed to, and organizes her books alphabetically by genre and author -- so *I* have to read Roberts Rules with her.

Yawwwnn.

Luckily, the chapter has a copy of Roberts Rules for utterly disinterested morons, which I intend to use to make a cheat sheet. Ol' Roberts is way beyond mouldering the grave (where his rules should be, too), so who'll know? Rachel2:32 PM