Monday, December 5, 2016
     

Where We Live

Saturday, March 1, 2014

By MARY TOBIA

TN correspondent

tneditor@tnonline.com

Hurray. Today is National Pig Day. (What'da you mean you didn't know?)

This event is held here in the United States on March 1 to celebrate the pig.

This annual holiday event was started in 1972 by two sisters, Ellen Stanley, a teacher from Texas, and Mary Lynne Rave of North Carolina. There is no evidence that this is a true "national" day, which would require an act of congress.

Saturday, February 22, 2014

I hate winter.

I hate the cold.

I hate the icy sidewalks.

I hate having to do a penguin shuffle across my driveway and in the parking lot at work.

I hate the short daytime hours.

I hate the dreary color tones of brown from the lack of life in trees, shrubs and grass.

I hate the icicles hanging from my roof that are getting larger and larger.

I hate looking at my home and not being able to see my front porch (or even get to it because it has turned into another place to throw snow).

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Bullying has become such a problem in schools that I've already started worrying about my granddaughter's school days. She begins kindergarten in September.

When I think back to how often I was bullied as a child, it made me realize that it wasn't always the other students who were the bullies. Sometimes it was the teachers who made me squirm, which is just another form of bullying.

Saturday, February 8, 2014

Another day.

Another dollar.

Another casualty.

Though it comes as no surprise, the list of innocent victims whose lives are claimed by gun-related incidents continues to grow exponentially.

That's right: Gun-related incidents.

What I want to know is exactly how many lives have to be lost over gun-related incidents?

Now, I'm not blind to the fact that those who support the right to bear arms would assuredly argue that it is the perpetrators of the shootings that carry out the deeds, and not the guns themselves.

Point taken.

Saturday, February 1, 2014

Tomorrow is Super Bowl Sunday.

Many of us are as excited about it for the ads as we are for the game itself. In fact, in some houses, you might find the bathrooms being flushed more during football action than during the commercials.

The cost of one 30-second ad for the Super Bowl tomorrow is an average of $4 million. So you know the advertisers are going to try to produce something memorable.

Saturday, January 25, 2014

By the time you sit down to enjoy your first cup of coffee this morning, I will have polished off at least a half a pot, made two bowls of farina one purple topped with green and yellow sparkling sugar, and looking a bit like an early Mardi Gras celebration; and one blue, because my granddaughter will insist that boys can only have blue farina, and therefore that is what her brother must have.

However, it will have pink sprinkles because my 4-year-old grandson always wants pink and I am a gender-neutral Nonna.

Saturday, January 18, 2014

Most of us are quite busy.I don't recall when I was a child having all the activities that today's child has available to them. I was talking with a co-worker recently who informed me that he was unable to place his daughter in another after school activity and when I asked why, he told me that she was already active in her church, swimming, dance, ballet and several other ventures.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

It's 5 a.m. on a Friday morning, and I'm yanked from a sweet dream by the shrill ring of the old-fashioned windup alarm clock. The cats scatter as I fling off the covers; eight paws and two human feet hit the floor at about the same time.

It's about 12 degrees outside, and I see snow on the porch roof through the ice-coated panes of the wavy glass windows in our old farmhouse.

Trailed by the Fabulous Fur Folk, I shamble down the hall and into the bathroom to turn on the shower. The cats stretch out on the deep red area rug, awaiting chin scratching and morning praise.

Saturday, January 4, 2014

I have a little mental game I play when I'm doing a certain unpleasant physical task, which is shoveling dense, partially frozen snow and ice chunks from the bottom of the driveway. I pretend that I'm opening it up so that the Prize Patrol can make it up to the house.

I wouldn't be caught in an egg-splattered robe and hair curlers like some of the previous winners. No, the driveway would be cleared and I'd be dressed and ready to pose with my new-millionaire giant check.

Saturday, January 4, 2014

Last week marked the 20th anniversary of my Pop Pop's death.

It was strange because when he died, I was 9, but yet I can still remember every detail of the day we found out he went home to God.

My Pop Pop, John E. Zubek, was an amazing man to me.

He was short in stature, but had a big heart.

He was my buddy, and one who I wished I had more time with before I had to say my final farewell.

Growing up, we were close. He would take me for walks down Abbott Street in Lansford, where I would stop numerous times to play with a number of neighboring dogs.