It is that time of the year again. The stores are filled with school supplies, and I am filled with allergy medication. One is a welcomed sign and the other is a necessity.
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Since being bitten by a copperhead snake two years ago, I have an extreme aversion to any kind of creature that can bite, sting or otherwise harm a human being.
You know those days when you have that skip in your step? When you feel like no matter what might happen, everything is going to work out? When you have that feeling that you could conquer a small continent if you so desired?
The soundtrack of my youth was provided by my mother — a masterful piano player who filled our home with the sound of practice sessions for Sunday church.
Last week we ran out of dog food.
I’ve come to the conclusion that “getting old” is simply what happens when society stops telling you things.
Recently, I was surprised to see my little niece had brought along a friend when she got in my car.
For about the past six months my father has taken up the hobby of genealogy. I don’t know what sparked this interest all of a sudden, but as a student of history I can appreciate the curiosity of wanting to know where our family came from.
I spent last weekend making some “open shelving” for my kitchen, which, I’m told, is “in” these days, according to the people who “decide” such things. But I didn’t install the shelves because they’re “in,” I installed them because my garbage disposal sprung a leak.
My sister just came back from her Las Vegas vacation and I got a lousy fake poker chip.