Friday, April 18, 2014

Education & Family

Saturday, June 5, 2010

I recently celebrated my 70th birthday. For those of you who read that line with horror in your hearts, remember that I deal in words. Words tell the truth. I have never hidden my age. As a matter of fact, I usually make myself a year older than I really am. I tend to count the 9 months in the womb as almost a year.

Do I feel 70? Some days. Do I act 70? Never. My 7-year-old grandson Conor challenged me to a swim across their inground pool. I beat him. He looked at me and said, "I didn't think you could swim that fast. You're 70"

Saturday, May 29, 2010

As a former English teacher and a newspaper column writer, most of my life has revolved around the English language. Words attract me. Grammar intrigues me. I remember being thrilled when I got homework that involved diagramming sentences. Some of my happiest moments have been spent searching for the right word to fit into a sentence. In other words, I am crazy about our native tongue. (Or, as some people might put it – I am just crazy.)

Saturday, May 22, 2010

The word 'bagatelle' comes from the French, who took it from the Italian word "bagatella," which means a 'trifle.'

Webster defines a trifle as 'something of little value or importance.' In other words, a trifle isn't something that matters. It's basically a frivolous or inconsequential item.

Lately, I have been trying to determine what household goods will move with us to Florida and which will be sent to the consignment shop. Identifying some of my possessions as bagatelles has been difficult.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

As I walked through the mall parking lot, I couldn't help but notice the bright bumper stickers on the rear of many vehicles. Two especially caught my eye.

The first sticker was adhered to a family-sized van. It read "Proud parent of an honor roll student at ABC Elementary School" (The name of the school has been redacted to protect the innocent). I have seen many stickers like that and always think how nice it is that parents display their pride in their child's accomplishments.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

My husband is the King of processed meat. He adores hot dogs, sausage, tripe, scrapple, ring bologna, liver pudding, and all the rest.

Of course, my husband is a Pennsylvania Dutchman, so his epicurean proclivities are based on his heritage.

Someone once told me "You don't want to watch while they make sausage. You'll never eat it again."

Saturday, May 1, 2010

There is nothing that angers me more than people who think they are entitled to something. We are entitled to nothing in this world except that which we earn or achieve ourselves. When people expect to be given something just because they live and breathe, they are sadly mistaken.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

There are turkey vultures – also called buzzards - in our pine forest. They sit up in the tall longleaf pine trees and watch for little critters to eat. I've seen them swoop down and capture a baby squirrel and carry it off. They also like road kill, but the vultures are so big that they can't stay on the road very long or they themselves would be road kill. I surely wouldn't want to hit one of them with my car – it would leave a large dent.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

One of my favorite poems was written by a woman named Rachael Beck. It is titled "Character," and I want to share it with you.


By Rachael Beck

What a drag it is to build that kid's character!

I know it's better for him if he learns to clean the sink and tub,

wash dishes, take out papers and cans for recycling,

and return those returnable bottles.

I know it's important for himto learn responsibility at home;

but I'm exhausted

by the time I ask him,

persuade him,

coerce him,

listen to him tell me

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Fairy tales sometimes end with the words "And they lived happily ever after." That's how you know it's a fairy tale. Real life isn't like that. Princes kill dragons, swim moats, defeat wizards and witches, and generally behave like superheroes to save their princesses. Isn't that true love? Not in my house.

In my house, my true love mows the lawn, washes the cars, cleans the bathrooms, rubs my tired feet, and takes out the garbage. Not as romantic as slaying dragons, right? Wrong. Each of those actions shows true love.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

My neighbor was taking a Sunday afternoon walk around our development, preparing for the Cooper River Bridge Walk, an annual Charleston, SC event. Usually, she walks at a fast pace, not interested in lollygagging. Her purpose is to push her level of speed and stamina so that she can hold her own during the marathon.

On this particular day, however, her purpose changed suddenly. Lying in front of her on the asphalt was a broken egg. Dangling out of the shell was a baby duck.