The dichotomy of how I can be appalled by the lead story on the local news being about some terrible murder, followed by details of two or three more seemingly every evening, then find comfort in a murder mystery, is beyond me.
What to think about the ‘bathroom law’?
This recent legislation that was allegedly hustled through in North Carolina, opposers will tell you, is far less about bathrooms and far more about the denying of civil rights.
The governor argues no civil rights have been changed.
I had to read the on-line, European headline twice before I believed my eyes but there it was: ‘Oligarch’s billion dollar wedding for 28 year old son.’
Billion.
It began as an innocent, open question by a Facebook ‘friend:’
“Name three unprocessed foods you ate today.”
Remember when women of a certain age were dismissed by the color blue?
“Good luck with this audience,” remarked an exasperated comic who was opening a show for me in Tahoe, years ago, “It’s just a sea of ‘blue-hairs’ out there.”
You know, folks, there’s an awful lot wrong with the world.
Every gal can use a compliment now and then to raise her spirits, to give her that “just got a haircut and, oh, I feel so much better,” feeling that automatically results in squared shoulders, a lighter step, and a lifted chin.
Ooo, baby, I was on the receiving end of not just one, but three- all in the same week!
I had quite forgotten that my former longtime manager, now retired from the entertainment industry, had sent me an email that she was cleaning out her office and would be sending me a box “filled with goodies.” So as I was leading my young horse, Forrest, up the driveway, we both spooked at the enormous cardboard box, covered in fluttering, clea
Live in the South long enough, and you will hear the phrase that is, and always has been, more effective than any device to extract information from its hapless victim–usually a man.
You know what they say,” pretty much any southerner will tell you during the winter, “If you hear thunder, then you’ll have snow within seb’n days.”
“Seb’n?” I echoed the elderly gent, this past Wednesday, who has sold us produce for years, although without a Lucky Strike wedged in the corner of my mouth.
