Ashley Spurlock

When I was in elementary school, spelling lists were a weekly terror (I’m not awn awesume spller), and I often found myself spending countless afternoon hours studying in the hopes of learning each new word.

Dessert and desert crept onto my list sometime between the 3rd and 5th grade, I can’t quite recall. I proceeded to struggle with what now seems an inconvenient difference between the two words. Which spelling belonged to which word and how could I remember the difference?

My dad, spelling hero of the day, came to my rescue and offered this tidbit of advice that I am now passing onto you:

Dessert is spelled with a double s because you will always want more dessert. It’s sweet, often made with chocolate and can always cure a bad day. Dessert is so nice, you’ll want it twice!

Desert is spelled with one s because you will never want two deserts. They’re hot, dry and boring. In fact, the desert is likely the cause of your bad day; why would you want more than one?

Do you have any clever ways of remembering the spelling of dessert and desert?

I have two books that sit on my desk at all times. They must be there. It’s required. In fact, we take roll call every morning to make sure no one is missing.

As a writer, you tend to gravitate to things that inspire you, that help you become a better writer. And these two books have certainly inspired many dreary words. They spice up sad paragraphs; add pizzazz to sarcastic sentences.

They settle disputes, offer solutions to sticky situations and divvy out advice when absolutely necessary.

If one of them doesn’t have the answer, the other one most likely does.

They’re heavy, full of enriching information. They’re worn, loved and cherished.

Each book has its differences though.

One leans more towards descriptions and histories and origins. The other relies upon scrutinized regularity.

They often fight over who gets more attention. Jealousy and silly remarks slip out when I choose one over the other. They snap shut when they’re mad and sharpen their razor thin edges when they’re enraged.

Both have reddish tones flowing on their front covers but they often ooze green envy and resentment from beneath their protective layers.

But, nonetheless, they are my two favorite books and our struggling love triangle sets to work on the daily task of writing.

They are my two favorite books. My best friends and my worst friends, all rolled up into two, very simple stacks of published paper.

Can anyone name my two favorite books?