I'm Just Saying

Cat nap

Pam Stone's picture

When Paul declared he had experienced not so much a sign, but an actual visit from a cherished pet, I looked up with a start.

Deck those halls!

Pam Stone's picture

Just a couple of weeks ago I wrote about how Thanksgiving is so often bulldozed by everything that’s wrong about Christmas: commercialism, materialism, fighting over sales items instead of savoring time with loved ones.

This week I feel as if I’m experiencing a 180 in regards to decorating.

Whose woods are these?

Pam Stone's picture

Last weekend I pounced on the opportunity of seeing Paul in action with the chain saw, taking down some rotted pines behind our manure pile.

I should explain that when I say ‘our’ manure pile, I mean the horses.

“Please, please,” I begged, “can we go clear the trails now?”

If I could only remember

Pam Stone's picture

Not too long ago, Paul and I were chatting with a friend during the after church coffee hour when the subject of cars came up. More specifically, manual transmissions versus automatic. He has a stick shift because he far enjoys the driving experience with it in his sports car, and we have a stick shift because it made our new car a lot cheaper.


Pam Stone's picture

I’ve often wished that I had experienced the, for lack of a better word, visions, that friends have had after losing a pet.

What’s so funny?

Pam Stone's picture

As my stand up performance in Tryon, NC, looms over the horizon in three weeks, friends of mine have been asking what I’ll be joking about.

“All the animals on your farm?”

Nah, that’s like being subjected to a doting grandmother with endless photos of a cherished but rather ordinary grandchild.



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