A couple of days ago my youngest sister asked my 89 year old mother what she would like to do for spring break this year. mom said for one thing she would like to see me and go visit Thousand trails at Lake Whitney. Well, my Mom and both of my sisters picked me up and we took the back roads through the country to the lake and had a picnic lunch and did a little hiking. it was a most enjoyable day and the best I have had in a long time. Tomorrow evening I get to go see my favorite female singer/songwriter Susan Gibson. Looking forward to seeing her. I should be starting the new Hepatitis C treatment in the very near future. That’s about all that’s going on with me lately. Wishing all a great Spring and remember, Summer is just around the corner!
Very nice, I myself have never aspired to be a writer. Hated it in school and didn’t care for it during my time in the Marine Corps. However at times it was a necessity and I forced myself to learn some of the basics. Grammar and punctuation being my weak point, I would run the words I had written through a grammar checker and polished the rough edges. My 5th grade teacher Mr. Beard compelled me to learn spelling by keeping those with two demerits inside writing spelling words during recess. I am now a pretty good speller, for being a demerit catching fool. with that said, I enjoyed your post and envy those who take up the pen or word processor to write the books I so enjoy reading, also those who write interesting posts in the number of blogs that I find myself reading. I enjoyed your words very much and thank you for taking the time to write them. Good luck to you in all your endeavors.
When a friend was hospitalized for appendicitis, people flocked to visit him at the hospital. When I was clinically depressed, some who knew it avoided me like the plague. But I completely understand — it’s natural for us to be afraid of the unfamiliar, including unfamiliar illnesses. And when it comes to depression, people are wary not because they are afraid it might be contagious (hey, many don’t even recognize it as an illness!), but because they are afraid of saying the “wrong” thing.
A friend once apologized to me, “I’m sorry I haven’t been reaching out to you or being there for you. I’m not like J — I wish I were, but I’m not. But know that I’ve been praying for you, okay?”
At the time, I smiled and told him not to worry about it. I read between the lines and I read his facial expressions — I…
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I want to tell you a story about your dog, Zoe. We found her cowering at the pound. She wasn’t barking like the other dogs. She was simply laying there, looking up at us. The tag said, “lab mix” and she was slated to be killed in a week. We fell for it, thinking we were buying a lab.
She is not a lab. She is a pit bull.
As Zoe grew, we came to realize the pound had lied. I was scared. I felt irresponsible for letting this type of dog into my home. All of the stereotypes, preconceptions and worries filled my mind. Should I take her back? What would people think of us?
She is the definition of disenfranchised. When first time guests visit we lock her in her cage, not because she is dangerous, but because of unspoken fears. She receives wary glances from strangers as…
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Leigh Anne “That Nice Woman Sandra Bullock Played In The Blind Side” Tuohy recently posted the following picture and caption on her Facebook and Instagram accounts:
“We see what we want! It’s the gospel truth! These two were literally huddled over in a corner table nose to nose and the person with me said “I bet they are up to no good” well you know me… I walked over, told them to scoot over. After 10 seconds of dead silence I said so whats happening at this table? I get nothing.. I then explained it was my store and they should spill it… They showed me their phones and they were texting friends trying to scrape up $3.00 each for the high school basketball game! Well they left with smiles, money for popcorn and bus fare. We have to STOP judging people and assuming and pigeon holing people!…
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Few things will make a cigar aficionado’s eyes dance more than a box of Cubans. I can’t say I’m really an aficionado, but when Jorge handed me a plastic bag with a wooden box in it, I knew what I was holding. Jorge, however, had no idea what a predicament he had just put me in. It was the morning we were leaving Havana. He met us at the airport and it was clear that he didn’t know about this pesky, Kennedy-era executive order called the Cuban Embargo. Why would he? He’s Cuban. He just wanted to give me a thoughtful gift as we were leaving to come back to the U.S. I opened the bag and saw the cedar box and knew that I was now thrust into a massive internal ethics debate as to what to do. The box said Cohiba, my knees weakened.
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