I don’t have to use a walker to pump my gas.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, faith, humor, life
I have realized, lately, that I am, at best, a third cousin once removed from my own definition of self-awareness. I like to think I'm savvy and a smooth operator, most of the time, but I had a bit of a bitter pill to swallow yesterday, when, on my way back from Scooba (perish the thought!), I had to stop and get gas. This is hardly a new thing for me, but unlike my usual stop-and-gos at the Scooba Junction gas station, I had neglected to look at my gas gauge until I was in Brooksville, about twenty minutes north. I had no choice but to pull...
How on earth do you wash a Fedora? [and other random thoughts]…
I have been intensely busy, lately. Not just by hand, either. My mind...it often goes into Mach 7 when I attempt to procrastinate (by the way, the word "procrastinate," itself, is ironic - I mean, by the time you write the word out, you could have done something already - it's not a word for the lazy), and the only thing I can physically do to make it stop is to sleep (even though my dreams are usually full of anger when I do that - last night, for instance...ouch!), but if I don't stop it, from time to time, it just runs all...
The Art of the Dirty Word.
There are a few things in this world that I would wish on everyone: among those are good friends, Chinese take-out, and a Nana. Everyone should have a Nana. I'll just get that out, right upfront. And everyone should go with their Nana to the doctor and spend the whole day eating ice cream sundaes, getting lost on the way to the doctor's office, and making a sidebar trip to an outlet store for a new pair of Sunday shoes. This is but one important thing that makes a Nana so wonderful. To name another would seem like bragging. And that's just not...
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