Like everything in my Libra life, there is the constant balancing of the scales. Before Christmas, I worked hard; during Christmas, I played hard; and afterwards, I crashed hard.
I didn’t just turn into a Grinch; I’ve always been a Grinch.
It is not the family and fellowship that makes me Grinchy; I love that part. But rather, it’s the consumerism and decorating pressure that feels burdensome.
In my COVID fever fog last week, I heard through an open window the non-mechanical hacking of Grady splitting wood for our fireplace.
Has your Christmas cactus forgotten how to bloom?
Though this may sound like a metaphor for one’s aging brain, it is not. It is a serious question, pondered by many persons this time of year.
A “girl’s girl” is not a usual descriptor for me. But, one night a month, I attend a Girls Night Out (GNO). I have been dining with the same group of ladies for years, really decades. This one, in the above photo, I have known since 2nd grade: Kathleen Nowell-King.
God luv ’em. That’s all I could say after last week’s disappointing ending to the Texas A&M vs Arkansas Razorback football game.
Need to get your party started? Call the McCoy Clan.
Ever wonder what that smooth-talking son of mine looks like on the radio? Meet son Grady McCoy IV who, with the rest of his family, is having the time of his life while celebrating the newlyweds Olivia and James in the photo above.
Another “McCoy Boy!”Meet Arthur Ellis McCoy, weighing in at 8lbs. 3 oz. on Tuesday, August 16th. He is beyond precious.
In the years before Covid, everyone’s dance card (so-to-speak) was full, and high-society-photographer’s evenings were busy as they party-hopped, taking pictures. But not anymore.
In high school, Pat Matthews had a compulsion to create and his talent was evident by the art competitions he entered and won. But, alas, he knew the career of a young artist was uncertain. This rational thinking led him to a degree in architecture.
Have you heard of the 10,000-hour rule? It was made popular by author Malcom Gladwell, who wrote the bestselling book, Outliers: The Story of Success. Mr. Gladwell said you need 10,000 hours practice at something to be a phenom. To be freakishly awesome, and to be such a standout among your peers that your first name is enough to tell people who you are: Think Peyton, Tiger, Venus, Kobe, Oprah.
No longer having mouths to feed at home, I was able to travel to Connecticut this past weekend to see a long-time friend of mine’s daughter get married. It was fun. The weather was picture perfect, the mountains and rivers plentiful, and the roads windy.
Young people often ask me, “What was your favorite age?” My answer is always the same: “Now.”
The Dallas Cowboys football team is about as close to a pro sports team as Arkansas gets. We Arkansans relate to them because their current owner, Jerry Jones, and their former coach, Jimmy Johnson, both harken from Arkansas. And their alma mater, the U of A, is a feeder school for the team’s new recruits.
At the end of a long Mother’s Day, Grady said to me, “Sorry you had to work so hard.” My reply was honest and simple: “I enjoyed it.”
This summer will be my 50-year high school reunion. Like all reunions, it snuck up and surprised me. But it didn’t surprise me as much as the phone call I got, later.
After traveling, I’m burned out on eating out and, yet, bored with my own home cooking. I’d love a plain-old BLT, but tomatoes aren’t in season. Currently, very little is in season. It is late for apples and oranges and too early for summer produce, but strawberries are close to being harvested in Arkansas.
My mother always said, no matter how old her children got, she wanted to see where they lived. That it made her rest better. And now, that is the way I feel, too.
At the funeral for a friend’s father, I thought about the deceased. How he had affected my life. How, on…
Have you heard the phrase “sitting is the new smoking?” I only recently heard it and, when I did, it rang true.