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While preparing a recent column, I was struck with an acute case of homophonic impairment. The words came easily, but the correct spellings and usages eluded me.

My blunders were mercifully brought to my attention by a kind reader or two (not too) via e-mail. And I was happy to receive the gentle notifications, as I missed them again when I re-read my column in the Saturday morning paper.

Usually, I catch such glaring errors prior to submitting my work to my editor. Of course, being human, I do miss mistakes, especially when they are embedded in my own writing. But prior to publication, an editor or copy editor will normally catch the error and make the correction.

However, last week's column got by (not buy or bye) everyone. My theory is that the extra sun, warm breezes, pool chlorine and other summer distractions conspired to provide a false sense of security, allowing for the slipup. Hubby and I have certainly been enjoying lots of relaxing evenings on the front porch, feet perched on plastic end tables as we observe the neighborhood kids battle it out in a pickup game of cul-de-sac baseball.

Whatever the reason, it happened. I misused a few common homophones and was caught. The most embarrassing blunder was my use of "peaked." Aunt Phyl's interest in skimpy underwear did not climb any mountains. On the contrary, it was piqued, or aroused, by the popularity of that particular garment in the fashion world.

I am sure Aunt Phyl felt higher than an eagle resting on a precarious peak overlooking hundreds of miles of wild forests and glistening lakes after trying her new (not knew) piece (not peace) of clothing. However, prior to her purchase, a place for "peaked" simply did not exist in my anecdote.

While visiting with Aunt Phyl a few weeks ago, I did not actually "pour" anything over her memoir excerpts. That would (not wood) have been disastrous. Had a cup of coffee or bottle of pop tipped, causing liquids to ruin her original works, which also happen to be a brilliant account of my ancestry, Aunt Phyl would have been devastated. She would have also been somewhat cross at her grandniece, the writer, for a spell.

A more accurate account of the events of our visit would be that I pored over her work, studying each excerpt carefully and attentively, engrossed in the stories of her past (not passed). I rather enjoyed her descriptive writing and I learned not only about our (not hour) family, but also about life in America just before the Great Depression.

Keeping up with Aunt Phyl's antics on a regular basis is a slow process; however, it is by no means "stationary." As a matter of fact, the post office comes through (not threw) swimmingly with only a day between her dropping her envelope-wrapped stationery into the out-of-town slot and me retrieving it out of my mailbox, nearly 600 miles away.

When I studied homophones in Mrs. Ott's second-grade class, I thought they were fun. I came up with what seemed like hundreds of examples one (not won) night (not knight) -- one of my favorite homework assignments ever. I vividly remember proudly bringing my multipaged list to school and waiting impatiently for "language arts" time.

My hand was raised the entire time she was asking for (not four) examples. At one point, I had to fold my right leg up under my bottom because my hand was stretched so high (not hi) in the air that I was barely touching my seat.

Mrs. Ott only called on me once -- something about giving other students a turn -- but (certainly not butt) I did get an A plus for my enthusiastic efforts.

Since my promotion to the third grade, my homophonic capabilities have clearly disintegrated. My passion for words and writing remains feverishly high, but a few of the skills I picked up in my youth have been pushed aside or buried.

Dependence on computer programs scanning my writing for grammatical and spelling errors has only contributed to the demise of my knowledge of language arts. Technology is convenient and quick, but it is still no match for the human mind.

As penance to my readers and Aunt Phyl for my recent writing faux pas, I will purchase a brand new dictionary packed with great new words like "ginormous," and then (not than) manually look up spellings, definitions and usages on a regular basis instead of relying on the spell check and grammar search functions on my desktop.

Or, at the very least, I'll look up my words on the Merriam-Webster (not marry him, Webster) Web site.

Micki Bare is a columnist for the Arkansas News Bureau and the Courier-Tribune in Asheboro, N.C., and author of the book, "Relative Expressions." She lives in Asheboro with her husband and three children. Her e-mail address is mickibare@inspiredscribe.com.