I’m old enough to remember life before birth control, when abortions were illegal, and when women died from breast cancer. We have come a long way in women’s healthcare and lifestyle choices, since then.
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.
From the looks of things in our Miami sewing department, cruise ships are back in business.
Not to be part of the sheeple, but if everybody else is, I guess I, too, must weigh in on the Smith/Rock altercation at the Oscars.
How Kerry McCoy Became an Enterprise
The Mayor of Little Rock, Arkansas, Mr. Frank Scott, is an excellent orator. If you get an opportunity to hear him speak, take it. He is a former minister and the son of a Baptist preacher…need I say more?
Last summer, Mrs. Elm got some bad news; she was diagnosed with incurable Dutch Elm disease. I was crushed at her prognosis and wrote about it in an earlier blog post. In that post, I professed that there are many unexplained miracles and cures that happen every day and, if there’s no scientific cure for Mrs. Elm, then it is time to move to plan B–a miracle. To enlist a miracle, you must have hope, faith, prayer, and ritual.
Saturday is errand day. My husband and I are in the car when I notice he keeps rolling the window up and down. Finally, he asks, “Do your feet stink?”