Nordstrom’s has been offering what they hope to be a very successful line of blue jeans.
I'm Just Saying
Here’s what I learned this past week (besides not giving your dog a piece of your spicy black bean burger, no matter how much they beg): if you’re going to do a book signing, you’d first better know how to write, and secondly, you’d better train your ear to pick up strong southern accents.
As our recent changeling, Bub, has recovered fully from his attack by the other enormous orange (now nicknamed, ‘The Big Ginger, or Ging, for short) tom, we debated over letting him outside, supervised, as he has been gazing dejectedly out the windows at our other cats, all sunning themselves on the front porch before coming back in after breakf
Sometimes you overhear a conversation that crystalizes the radically different points of view that come from different generations. Was I being nosy? You betcha, but at the same time, I feel I should be given a pass because, after all, the one offering his career idea had been kicking the back of my booth.
Oh, no,” I said grimly to the orange tom who appeared routinely last winter, glaring through the windows and terrifying our other cats. “You are not welcome here, you brute.”
An English friend of mine, during our emailing back and forth, replied to my description of Mother Nature’s menopausal fluctuations of weather, ranging from 52 to 82 all within a couple of days, with a description of her own after suffering high winds, snow showers and hail: “We’re having Equinoctial gales!” Not since I heard Mike Sidel from The
If the iconic English Romantic poet, John Keats, could write Ode to a Nightingale, and Ode on a Grecian Urn, then perhaps I, just over two hundred years, later can also wax poetic about the greatest love of my life.
I shall call it Ode to120 Cheratussin AC 10-100MG/5ML.
I’ve got to hand it to Chris Storie.
You’d think by now I’d know that any time I try to appear anything else than what I actually am, it goes pear shaped.
My regular lunch date with Junior included Paul this past week as I had been giving him breathless descriptions of Junior’s, daddy’s (we don’t say, ‘father’), home place, seen from the pinnacle of Glassy Mountain, on the side of Hogback, easily visible through the bare, late-winter trees.