I spent Friday night with a singing farmer’s daughter and it was the most fun I’ve had in a very long time.
I found out something this past week that sort of has me stumped. I am addicted to oil. Now, I am trying to figure out how this happened.
I found myself playing referee yesterday, standing in the middle of a cat and dog fight. The scrappers were not a dog and a cat, as you might suspect, but two humans with strong opinions on canine and feline superiority.
It strikes me as a bit humorous that everything old has become new again in many segments of our society.
There are few things in life more difficult than saying that final goodbye. When my father-in-law passed away unexpectedly in 1997, my husband said the suddenness of his passing was difficult to grasp, and yet a blessing in its quickness.
Every time I hear those opening lyrics, “the hills are alive with the sound of music” I feel compelled to stop what I am doing and sing along.
Tell the truth. Especially to yourself. This brief directive came to me by way of a gift from a co-worker, a book titled Lists to Live By.
Going through the motions of holiday decorating has felt very much like a grand finale to me as I prepare to pack up the contents of this home.
As Christmas nears, I have had the great joy of looking at this season through the eyes of a Southern friend.
Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be famous? Just the other day, I was working at my coffee house job.