I’ve been a longtime proponent of a global economy. But after the glaring absence of China from last week’s world Climate Summit, my opinion may be changing.
My little cancer baby on the end of my nose surprised everyone but me. I was awake through the whole MOH out-patient surgery. With my nose numb, the cancer surgeon took a dime size divot off of the tip and carried his new extraction into the other room to observe under a microscope.
Well, I finally did it. I’ve talked about it, dreamt about it, and needed it for years; I hired an assistant!
Now, I am a person that goes to the dermatologist every year. For years, my doctor has recommended a preventative, deep-facial peel for the sun damage done to my fair skin during my youth. The only problem I have with this suggestion is the recovery time. For a week after this procedure, you look like a reptile during molting season. So, I put it off until last November when, once again, the doctor reminded me of the peel and went on to say that it was also good for getting rid of fine lines (he should have mentioned that earlier).
In less than two months, I have recorded three new radio interviews, torn my home up in a remodeling frenzy, bought a work-in-progress business in Miami with new travel expenditures, and happened to witness the launch of Elon Musk’s first civilian space launch with Space X from Cape Canaveral.
If you haven’t read Kristin Hannah’s book The Nightingale, then you need to put it on your book list. This soon to be made into a movie book has everything, except maybe laughter.
How Kerry McCoy Became an Enterprise
My love of old structures and saving history is evident in the lifestyle choices I’ve made (i.e. the Dreamland Ballroom and my 1911 Craftsman-style residence). This preference began early. In 1975, upon returning home to Arkansas from Dallas, I took up residency in the aging Hillcrest neighborhood of Little Rock, Arkansas.
As I pulled out on to Markham a young dog, about the size of a standard poodle, runs in front of me and towards this bicyclist on the opposite sidewalk. The Bicyclist and I thought he was running to attack him. But no. There, in the oncoming lane, lay a big black lab. He’d been hit by a car and his dog companion was seeking help. It must have just happened.
Call me a tree-hugger, and you would be right. Last week I lopped off a branch from my 50-year-old elm tree and took it to the Pulaski County Cooperative Extension office. A few years back, I noticed spots on Ms. Elm’s leaves and wanted to find out how to treat it.