Like many a weary folk, Paul and I were on the road after Christmas but unlike the others it had nothing to do with the holidays, and so neither of us were recovering from the wrench of leaving beloved family gatherings.
I'm Just Saying
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.
A few days ago what might be considered one of the most touching gifts I’ve ever received was sent to me via email.
He downs twelve Diet Cokes a day. A day!
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.
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?”
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.
Alrighty, retailers, commercials and the giant inflatable snowman in my neighbor’s yard…
GET OUT OF MY THANKSGIVING!!
I’ve often wished that I had experienced the, for lack of a better word, visions, that friends have had after losing a pet.
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.