I have come to the conclusion that my husband and I cannot cook together in the same kitchen. We have widely divergent styles, even in preparation for cooking.
My club lady with a vengeance friend has dragooned me again into doing something. I am to be a story teller at Scary Tales and Trails. I think I was the first one she called when she decided she needed story tellers, and I agreed without thinking it over much. After all, I told and acted out stories every day while I taught school. Greek myths, legends of King Arthur, Shakespeare. Anything to amuse the masses. You have to be part ham to teach school.
The once outdoor cat that my husband invited inside has become quite a prima donna.
I have a friend who recently retired.
One of the first columns I wrote was about my husband and his love of kitchen gadgets. He hasn't changed his ways.
I killed my cell phone (it was a dumb phone) by washing it in the washing machine. It was in my pants pocket, and I forgot. The bad thing is this is the second time that I have done that.
I was on the phone with my sister this week. We usually talk at least once a week unless either of us feels very strongly about a Jeopardy question or answer and has to call the other about it. Then we talk more often. We especially like to brag if we knew final Jeopardy and none of the contestants knew it.
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I am sure most of you saw the picture in The Covington News of the large tree limb which fell into Floyd Street recently. The limb is gone and so is the tree and another large tree that was in the same yard. Every time I drive down Floyd Street and pass where those trees were I get a jolt. It just doesn't look right. It's like buying a new piece of furniture. Every time you enter the room that piece of furniture jumps out at you. The empty space where those trees were just jumps out at ...
I have a picture that sits on a dresser in my bedroom that no one ever sees. It serves as the repository for odd socks. When I am folding laundry and if I find an odd sock, it goes over the picture. Sometimes, I actually find matches in the socks hung over the picture frame.
My younger Macon granddaughter spent the week with me. It was exhausting for both of us. She had to be across the road from Parkview High School at 8 a.m. each morning. My alarm went off at 6 a.m. and I woke my granddaughter 15 minutes later. The 15 minutes gave me time to get the paper, drink a cup of tea and read the headlines.
I went to my sister's last weekend for the express purpose of making yet more curtains. This time for my granddaughter.
I have bought my sister's Christmas present and she will buy mine early. We have the same taste in books. So we have gotten into the habit of buying each other books for Christmas that we both want to read. We buy them early, read them first and then give the book as a Christmas present. It does mean we have one less surprise for Christmas. But at our ages who needs surprises? We'd rather have something we want and will enjoy.
My bridge club enjoyed the field trip to my husband's cabin.
I will have two granddaughters in middle school this year. My granddaughters are getting grownie. At the same time my body is getting groanie.
It is my turn to have my ladies' bridge club again.
My sister called me last week. We both watch Jeopardy and had been surprised that Ken Jennings did not win the Battle of the Decades on Jeopardy. She also commented on the difficulty of the answers in that Jeopardy Tournament. I agreed. I usually can guess more of the questions than I did during that tournament. But, what she called to comment on was that none of the champions in a particular game rang in and knew the question for the answer "antecedent." That's a grammar question. An antecedent is the noun that a pronoun is taking the place ...
I rarely, if ever, answer my home phone. That is not to say it doesn't ring. It rings a lot. However, I no longer have that Pavolvian response to respond immediately to its siren call. A response those of us of a certain age remember. And a response that many far younger than I am feel when their cell phones ring or beep indicating that a text message has arrive.
I have never been a multi-tasker. I like to finish one thing and then move on. And that might describe my style of driving.
Last Saturday I was dragooned into helping at Chimney Park during the Fairy Festival; it was serendipitous.
Spring in Covington is always a gorgeous sight. The dogwoods, other flowering trees and azaleas all put on quite a show.
A front page article in Sunday's Atlanta Journal-Constitution discussed the fate of former Atlanta School Superintendent Beverly Hall and her impending trial.
Some things will forever be a mystery to me. For instance, why do some recipes call for sweet butter (unsalted) and then tell you to add salt to the batter? I have run across many recipes that make that puzzling request.