Sharks, like a handful (if indeed you have a hand left) of other dangers, including sky diving or snake church, are one of those things that few survive when things go wrong. You’ll never see, for example, your neighbor hobbling on crutches to the mailbox, enquire of his dilemma and be told, ‘’Chute didn’t open, can you believe it?
I don’t have a resume, really, but if I did, under ‘other talents’ I guess I’d write ‘tell jokes and ride horses.’ But after just emceeing another fashion show benefit, I realize I have another ‘gift,’ if you will:
It was under a distinctly maudlin sky that promised rain with raw morning temperatures that found both Donna and I tacking up our horses for a morning hack through the woods. But we were missing a third.
“Where’s Sami?” I asked.
When my eyes ran across this headline from an article in Newsweek, "Our Homes Are too Clean, Should Be Seeded With Germs,’ Says Researcher,” I exhaled a heavy sigh of relief in that evidently I’ve dodged a bullet by my, ahem, research-driven lifestyle. I’ll return to typing this column as soon as I remove a cat from the kitchen counter…
Reading an article featuring “The World’s Best Hotels,” featuring sumptuous full page photographs, my eyes fell, and lingered, upon Le Sirenuse, on the Amalfi Coast, in Positano, Italy.
I’ll wait while you Google. Seriously. It’s worth it.
Paul often says the reason we forget that we are people of ‘a certain age’ is because we haven’t passed the normal rites of passage other couples have. This theory was repeated upon my audible gasp upon seeing a recent photo of rock crooner, Neil Young. Who was this double chinned curmudgeon with wisps of gray hair?
Mr. Yow is in the house!!
Correction: Mr. Yow was in the house.
Alright, what actually happened is, by following the North Star, cat number six showed up at the Funny Farm—and I swear I didn’t create this by jinxing myself and saying, “Gee, it’s been a while since a stray has shown up.”
Several people of late have asked, tongue firmly in cheek, if I mind Paul spending most of his free time in the garage with his vintage Morgans.
(That’s right: there are two now, but I think there’s something wrong with his latest acquisition as it only has three wheels.)
We don’t often lose power here at the farm and when we do, it’s usually for minutes, maybe an hour. The timing, however, seems to always coincide just as I am about to step into the shower after a long, dusty (or muddy) day with the horses. And because we’re on a well, that means no water.
Look, how can I not write about Taylor Swift this week? Or rather, the cyclone of coverage that swirls around her every move?
No, I’m not going to muse about the ballyhoo around whether or not anyone wants to see her for three second cutaways during NFL games, when her beau, Travis Kelce, makes a play.
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