I'm Just Saying

Orange wine

Pam Stone's picture

It’s not that I’m against celebrating anticipated annual days of note on the calendar—certainly Thanksgiving and Christmas—and I adore the 4th of July and even barely recognized Arbor Day. Veteran’s Day? You betcha. Same with Memorial Day. But Columbus Day? Meh. Presidents’ Day? I guess.

The week that was

Pam Stone's picture

Look, you know that I essentially describe life on the farm: talking toads, apple trees with the occasional foray into pumpkin spice Chapstick, or cats wandering beneath the robes of the Dean of Canterbury Cathedral in his youtube series of ‘Morning Prayers.’

The apples of my eye

Pam Stone's picture

Paul and I have reached the age where birthday prezzies have to require a bit more thought because we essentially have everything we need and how many pairs of slippers can one give, even if the dogs seize upon them shortly afterwards, leaving them in shreds under the bed?

For better or for worse

Pam Stone's picture

I’m assuming that George W. Crane, Ph.D and M.D. is no longer gracing our planet and that’s a good thing as I’d have to slap and sterilize him in one fell swoop. Of course, it was a different time in 1939, but Dr.

These you should have

Pam Stone's picture

It was while having a good old clear out of unworn clothes and going through boxes which had remain unopened for years that I came across the crisply folded, yet faintly yellowing, neatly typed poem.

Rosie the robot

Pam Stone's picture

During a Zoom call with Paul to his family the conversational ball was being bandied about so frequently that attempting to keep up was nearly futile. Non-sequitors in and out of subjects were the norm but somehow the topic of babysitting came up and everyone had a story to share.

Leapin’ lizards!

Pam Stone's picture

Let me make this clear: I’m a ‘live and let live’ sorta gal—to the point where I will scoop a drowning Japanese beetle out of the water trough or step in and break up an assault by a hornet upon a horse fly. And I despise horse flies.

Lovin’ from the oven

Pam Stone's picture

Man alive, just when I was feeling at my most world-weary, battered over daily political theater, chalking up yet another Covid-related death in our small town while despairing over those who still refuse to wear masks in public places, comes a story that hit me right in the ‘feels.’

Shake it off

Pam Stone's picture

Did you feel it??” friends were shrieking, on social media, email and through the phone. “Earthquake!!”

“They said it was a 5.1!!”

“It knocked over three of Momma’s Hummells and the Barney won’t come out from under the bed!”

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