Sunday, May 10, 2026

I'm intrigued by the growing "local foods" movement and direct marketing of just about anything farm-fledged.

I have spent nearly nine years teaching my children that patience is a virtue (although sadly, not one of mine) and that there are no stupid questions.

Warmed by the sun, my bare arms feel free in the fresh spring air, and the heat that builds in my van reminds me of warmer days ahead.

It's just a bull. He'll only be here until ________ (insert your local livestock sale day). No rush feeding him, we won't be raising him, he'll be someone else's problem.

While the nation's farmers leap into spring planting, this office is reluctantly digging through the winter drifts of stories gone undone.

I have never been, shall we say, comfortable with entertaining. When it comes to the planning and preparation involved with inviting people over to dine, I would much rather go to a nice, relaxing dental appointment or something less taxing like that.

I made up my mind years ago that I'd probably never own a new car. It's not that I would mind flaunting its perks as I drive around, but the final answer for the math behind a new vehicle purchase is too impractical for my style, even if I could afford one.

During Australia's inquiry of the $215 million in kickbacks paid to the Saddam Hussein regime, documents have been made public that show American-based Australian diplomats working hand-in glove with U.

I have followed the stir regarding drinking unpasteurized milk with interest. Like many of you, I am sure, I grew up drinking milk straight from the cow.

After years of toil, struggle, and inner turmoil wondering what, if anything, I want to be when I grow up, I have discovered my one true calling: I am the Meanest Mom Ever! Crowned.