Wednesday, February 10, 2016

The first hint of spring brings big iron and big irony to the winter-rested Illinois prairie.

Last week, a busload of Pennsylvania farmers visited three dairy farms in eastern Ohio as part of a dairy profitability tour.

I am the first to admit that sometimes I make a mess of things. I try to teach my kids that the best reaction is to 'fess up, take responsibility, fix what I can, learn from my mistakes and move on.

Familiar moments float to the surface of my memory pool at Easter time. I can't imagine anyone not enjoying leisure time with the Sunday comics, but I believe my fondness for the funnies traces back to the Easter mornings I spent with Dallas Clapsadle.

I remember as a child being obsessed with horses and the cowboy life. It consumed our play, it invaded our dreams.

I am not a morning person. In the morning, if forced to get up at all, I prefer nothing more than silence, and a cup of coffee as big as my head.

The scene, often repeated these bitterly political days, was straight out of Alice in Wonderland. On March 3, U.

Although my daughters are, for the most part, pretty good kids, and I shouldn't complain, I used to think no child rearing could be worse than my two little girls when they were fighting - until now that they are teens, they are both bigger than I am, and just as loud.

Winter wind, howling in the depths of December prompts us to wish to retreat to the easy chair beside the fireplace, a cup of something warm and steaming nestled in our chilly hands.

To be invoked by all PTO parents, volunteer parents, and room mothers (and fathers and "significant others") among us.
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