Making my way slowly down the stairway I placed my right hand on the wall while my left hand covered my eye.
A couple of years back Sam signed up to cut the grass at the church.
Somebody threw out the question what would you miss about the South? Food was a given then it boiled down to friendliness and storytelling. The next day I tried the question on my exercising buddies and the answer was the same. Seems we'll tell a story at the drop of a hat.
There's a lot of eating plans circling around these days with names like "What would Jesus eat," aka the Mediterranean diet, the Paleo diet, aka "What would a caveman eat," and all the vegan and vegetarian diets built on what not to let-ever-cross-your-lips diets.
Work in the garden during the early morning to avoid heat stress, and wear a hat and loose clothes. Felder Rushing.
Just inside the door of the Missionary Baptist Church I saw a white man to the far left, so I turned right. I didn't want us to "clump up," so I asked a beautiful young woman with long eyelashes if anyone was sitting next to her.
Signs pointed to raccoons having returned to the Prairie house. There was the day a small, empty, well-washed plastic container of crab salad had been lifted from the recycle bin and left on the porch under an Adirondack chair. Disappointing for sure for the raccoon.
"It was the song of an immigrant boy made good."
Mary Ellin Berlin Barrett, daughter of Irving Berlin
Kathleen Norris recounts her introduction to computers in the 1970s in David Steindl-Rast and Sharon Lebell's "Music of Silence." Computers were a marvel, and she was thrilled her work time was reduced remarkably.
Early in the morning I sat at the window watching the two surviving ducks forage at the lake's edge.
I've discovered that in certain situations I have a tendency to hedge on the truth, and I hate that. I signed up for the Lifeline medical testing held at the Presbyterian church on Bluecutt Road in Columbus.
The green heron stood on the dock with its two short twig-like yellow legs. Usually the screen door opens and he takes flight immediately.
Sam and I went to see Prairie neighbors Nick and Eleanor Hairston's granddaughter Reed's school musical where she belted out the "Hero" song. I've been thinking about that song ever since.
The doctor warned our cholesterol levels were rising, not dangerously so, but rising. No medicines were required, but paying closer attention to our eating habits was advised.
'Tis the season for creeping vines waiting to bring forth untold misery to the gentle gardener.
Robin handed me the book "The Happiness Project," and like a moth to a flame I was drawn to the subtitle, "Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun." The book is by Gretchen Rubin.
Driving west over the Tombigbee Bridge and exiting north onto Plymouth Access Road leads to a trail of wildflowers not to be believed.
Sam power-washed the back porch along with the Adirondack chairs. I beat the rugs and fluffed the cushions.
The email was sent. It read, "I'm upgrading my computer to Windows 10. If you don't hear from me, you'll know I was unsuccessful."
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