My husband invited me down to his cabin last weekend to see his new additions. Well, he also wanted me to clean and loaded up the vacuum cleaner and various cleansers as well as me for the trip.
My bathtub arrived in the middle of January, two months after it was promised. I was given a date in January when it should arrive in a warehouse in Athens. At that point, I was assured, someone would call me and schedule a delivery.
I don't know what it is with us humans, but we always want more or think the grass is greener on the other side of the fence.
I am one of those people who has to keep a calendar. I have to write down all my appointments or I forget. Not just the obligatory doctor and dentist appointments, but social ones as well: bridge dates, when I have to direct bridge for the duplicate club, hair appointments, and other minutiae of life.
I generally prefer winter to summer based on the theory that you can put more clothes on to get warm, but there is a limit to the clothes you can take off to get cool.
When I was growing up, my family always had a cat. I can't remember them all. And after I got married, my home followed that tradition. We always had a cat. But after nearly 50 years of marriage, I can't remember all of their names, either. Most, however, followed a literary tradition, from the first, "Milton," to the last to die, "Earnest" (from "The Importance of Being Ernest"). There were exceptions when my children or a grandchild named a cat. That would include my present cat Julianne, a stray who took up with us and who was named ...
My husband was watching an afternoon TV show last week on which a chef of some renown was cooking. He had toasted an English muffin and sliced it. On the bottom half he put a slice of ham he had cooked in a frying pan, and he topped that with some cheese. He had baked eggs in ramekins, and he placed one of the eggs on top of the cheese and ham and then put some sauce on the other half of the English muffin and put it on the egg. The other hosts then got to enjoy the results.
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It's January. The holidays are over and most of us have taken down the holiday decorations and returned to normal. I say most of us because I have a friend who will tell me for the next two months that she has to find the time to dedecorate. Her husband says he finds Christmas decorations in July. But she usually gets it done by March. I like her use of dedecorate. It's not a word, but it gets the point across. And she has been dedecorating for at least the last 15 years.
It is an amazement to me that people seem to find columns about grammar interesting. I feel, every time I write one, that I am back teaching school and I can envision my readers falling asleep as they read a somewhat esoteric discussion about a grammar question.
Do you find yourself continually searching for the most mundane things? I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time looking for my car keys. But only when I am in a hurry. It must be an axiom that you only lose things when you are in a hurry and have no time to look for them. Do you dial your cell phone from your land line because you can't find your cell phone? I do.
It's time to start thinking about Christmas dinner. I'm cooking, and I am dreading the annual discussion I have with my husband about what to serve.
I have four granddaughters ranging from first grade to fourth grade. Stair steps. Last weekend, the first grader, my youngest, read to me a book about Red Riding Hood. When she got to the part of the story where the wolf was in grandmother's bed, she stopped to show me the picture. I asked her if Red Riding Hood knew it was the wolf and not her grandmother.
My older daughter has hosted my family for Thanksgiving for the last several years, an arrangement which I greatly appreciate. I get to see my children, grandchildren, my sister and her son, and while I contribute, I don't have to cook the whole meal. This year, when we arrived, my husband discovered my son-in-law had recently bought one of those huge TVs that hang on the wall. My husband settled on the sofa in front of that large TV and stayed there the whole time we were at my daughter's house except for the time he was at ...
A bank-o-mat ate my debit card in Bratislava. I bet you have never made that statement before. I had to make it twice and then explain it to a teller last April.
I have a birthday this week. A big one. Reaching this day has caused me to muse about some of the changes that accompany reaching such a milestone.
My granddaughter in the fourth grade recently had a test over pronouns, and in particular the many different spellings and meanings of "there, their, they're, theirs, there's.
I direct a duplicate bridge game once a week. To make me sound important, I am an American Contract Bridge League certified director. That fancy name doesn't mean much. Last week, however, the other directors were out of town, and I had to direct three games.
I got a call from my sister last week. She lives on a farm southwest of Atlanta. She has to obey a burn ban until Oct. 1 (for which she blames me because all of Atlanta's pollution comes to Newton County) and gathers limbs and other such debris all summer into what she calls her burn pile.
Directly across the street from my driveway is a short flight of steps that leads to the sidewalk. They appear rather innocuous, but they have been a part of some strange events.
Studying drama (plays) was usually a class favorite. Students like to take parts and read the play aloud. But different plays get different responses.
I went to buy my sister a birthday card and ended up spending more than 30 minutes and reading nearly half of the cards before finally choosing one I was really not satisfied with.
My sister called me the other day. You remember her. She is the one who wrote the orange juice company about less calories. She had been watching television and saw an advertisement for a car. I am paraphrasing, but the car had more power, more electronics and less doors.