Besides the plastic fan that I had won, a decade ago, at The Dollar Store, of which I wasn’t even allowed to claim for quite some time as I had filled out the raffle ticket with the name, ‘Pam Banana’ (long story, you have to read the book. Did I mention it’s still available on amazon.com? Never too early to begin your Christmas shopping!
I'm Just Saying
It had been a good four days since I had seen ‘our’ mangy fox, Freddie, in the flesh, taking the hard boiled egg I’ve injected with ivermectin to clear up his disease.
My choices to write about this week were either a fox I’m trying to heal from sarcoptic mange, or the fact that America just nominated its first woman for President of the United States.
Sorry, Freddy, you get bumped to next week.
When it’s this oppressively hot, with stagnant air and humidity that stays put like a house guest that has long over stayed their welcome, I try to make myself feel better as I feel the first rivulets of sweat trickle down my back at 7 a.m.
This whole pickle jar thing began when our local recycling facility stopped, for some reason, accepting glass.
Regardless if you are a regular viewer of Fox News or not, most folks are familiar with Gretchen Carlson, who worked at the network for 11 years before being unfairly ousted, she now alleges in a lawsuit, for rejecting sexual advances from the network head, Roger Ailes, as well as suffering ‘sexist and condescending’ behavior from former colleag
Most people, I should think, monitor their recovery from a broken bone or sprain by noticing an increased strength or flexibility in their range of motion during perhaps a golf swing, knitting, or simply carrying a bag of groceries.
It all began with glimpsing a cloud in the sky that, even to the dullest brain, absolutely resembled a duck: beak, head, neck, body, and tail, sticking up, the way a floating duck will wiggle it’s tail feathers after dunking its head for a bit of dinner into a pond.
Editors note: Pam’s beloved Bonnie passed away last week. This column first ran in The Greer Citizen last July.
So last Friday afternoon, I broke my wrist (of course, horse related- it’s always horse related) and the conversation, approximately one minute before I mounted up, went like this:
“OK, I can’t afford to get hurt so before I get on, is there anything I need to know about this guy? Any buck or rear?”