As I have written before, I don’t consider myself an influencer. But, every now and again, I feel obliged to share a shopping tip, like when I posted about easy and everyday-wear wrist weights I purchased.

During my ole’ lady swim class, I overheard a fellow participant complain that she was suffering mentally and blamed it on a lack of routine brought on by Covid-19’s restrictions. I told her I was suffering from just the opposite … too much routine.

This is hard to believe: I have been blogging since 2004! I used to blog once a month but, a few years back, my marketing staff pushed me to blog more and share my business knowledge.

I have never seen Arkansas’ local TV meteorologist, Barry Brandt, so happy. He appeared almost jubilant as he pointed to the snow-covered map and expounded on snowfall statistics that he clearly loves.

When I overheard my daughter telling someone that her “PJ game was strong,” I had to laugh and thought, “Right now, that’s true for everyone.” Gone are the days of dressing up and going out. Now, a big outing is masking up for a run to the grocery store and back home for a night of cooking or lounging in freshly washed PJ’s with a good book, hard puzzle, or mini-series on the boob tube (that’s a TV for you youngsters).

The CDC recommends not traveling unless you absolutely must; and if you must, be smart about it. Weighing these recommendations, I thought about my upcoming and necessary trip to Miami, Florida. Should I rent an RV and drive? With a pull-along bed, bath, and kitchen I could quarantine throughout the three day drive down. It seemed like a responsible way to travel.

How can I not talk about Wednesday’s siege on our Capital and its possible effect on the flag business?

I know buying a new car is a luxury, not an investment, but that does not keep me from purchasing one. Recalling the evolution of one’s cars is a lot like tracing the evolution of one’s life.

What good is a blog without honesty? Who wants to read about a perfect person living a perfect life? Personally, I want to watch the crazies: The Osbourne’s, Trump, and daytime Soaps. By watching other poor souls struggle and make mistakes, I feel better about my own actions and the crazy voice (I like to call Devil Speak) in my head.

For many of us, this Christmas will be different. As I sit and think about my growing grandchildren, I reflect on Christmases past.

I’m not good at remembering proper nouns: people’s names, places and events. But I am good at remembering all the other sentence structure that make for good conversation and storytelling.

I love flower arranging, cooking, and being outdoors, but gardening is not my jam. The ground is just too far down there, and it wreaks havoc on my nails. But my son, Gray, loves the soil and the science of plants. He gardens without gloves!

Well, I finally did it. I fulfilled a promise to my late girlfriend, Sarah Smith, and had the dreaded colonoscopy. The diet modification for this procedure begins a week in advance and, on the day before, you are instructed to consume only liquids. This is some good advice, because that night’s prep is eventful, and not in a good way.

You know, mothers know everything. Early on, I knew -and my mother knew- my first born, cherub-like son was probably gay.

A month or so ago, I could tell Grady needed a vacation, so I planned what I thought would be an easy get away to the nearby Mountain Harbor Resort on Lake Ouachita. It’s a place full of memories for our family.

Lying face down, nude, with my eyes closed, the masseuse said, “I invite you to relax, concentrate on your breathing, live in the moment, and love yourself.
As my modesty fell away, I floated away.

A year or so ago, I lost a close friend to an illness that, if caught, could have been cured thanks to early detection.

I’ve long been a believer in the power of saying “Yes.” So, that’s what I did when my neighbor walked by my house recently, on a beautiful, crisp morning, and asked me if his son, Nick Shoulders, could perform on the steps of my big front porch.

Dogs are great but that doesn’t mean everyone should have one, especially young people whose lives are in flux.
That is why, when son Jack came home from a dog walk in the woods with friends and announced he was thinking of adopting a dog he just met, I was vehemently opposed.

My neighborhood is full of grown children that are home from college and elsewhere, sheltering in place and strolling in the sunshine with their parents. Who would have thought that in January, when I was renovating the carriage house in my backyard, that it would soon be occupied by son Jack, forced to move home from college because of a world-wide pandemic?