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Columns

  • If it's December then I'm already done-in

    It's only Dec. 5 and I'm ready to throw in the towel.

    Despite all my good intentions, time is getting away from me and there's no way to recoup what I've lost and no way to get ahead of what needs to be done.

    It all started back in November – Veterans Day to be exact.

  • Their stories need to be told

    The first time I came to Williston was Veterans Day 2005.

    I was living and working in Chiefland and I volunteered to cover an event in Heritage Park.

    I didn't know what to expect. I'd been in Florida about three months and had never even ventured to Williston.

    I was not disappointed.

  • It's not funky without 'fun'

     When Tom and I started traveling more by air than land for our vacations, I learned quickly how important it is to be organized and how essential it is to cram as much as you can carry when you board a plane.

    We were in an airport somewhere when I spied what I thought was the perfect solution – an Ogio backpack that didn't look as if I were ready for the Appalachian Trail.

  • It's who we are

    I've always been a traditionalist. I suppose that goes along with not liking surprises. I like knowing what's going to happen. I don't like guessing about what ifs and I like having a plan of action.

    I've become a little less rigid since Tom and I have been married, because he is the Master of Spontaneity. He likes nothing better than hitting the open road and searching for hotels at midnight. 

  • Put up the cords, Dobby's here

     I've never owned a puppy before but in two short months, I've learned that puppies – like babies – should be had when you're young.

    Ever since Tom has been on the DL – about a year now – we've bandied about the idea of a dog that would be a companion for him while I am either at work, or visiting grandchildren.

  • Thank goodness for Mississippi

    Ever since I wrote the column about the Mississippi Roast and The Carnivore things have been changing at Herding Cats Ranch. 

    Shortly after the roast debuted, The Carnivore told me to put together a French toast casserole, store it in the fridge, get a good night’s sleep and pull out my work boots, ‘ cause I was gonna need them.

    He meant that literally and figuratively. 

  • Little sleep, but who cares?

     I'm tired. Plain and simple, I'm tired, perhaps even bordering on exhausted. As I write this, I'm sitting at my daughter's dining room table while the lull of the ceiling fan drones in my ear. My grandpup, Iago, is among the lucky – he's catching a nap on the back of the sofa.

  • How can anyone survive so much joy?

    I came late to the Grandmother Party. By the time my 30th high school reunion rolled around, I was one of the few in my entire class who didn't have a grandchild. I was amazed that one of my classmates already had six – at 48 years old. But then again, she did have two sets of twins.

    My youngest child was the first to marry, followed six months later by my oldest child. Only the middle child remains in a content state of solitude.

  • What do you tell others about your home?

     

    For someone who doesn't like to drive, I sure do a lot of it.

    That certainly is never my intent, but it's the way it goes – often.

  • Who can find a virtuous woman?

     

    I'm a realist. I always have been. I see things for what they are, not for what they could be or should be.