I'll be honest with you. About this time last year I was concerned about the direction this paper was taking, so much so that I considered no longer writing my weekly column for it. The political rhetoric was, from my point of view, beyond what the general public considered interesting. I don't say this to cast aspersions toward the previous editor and/or publisher. I say them to set a new standard of this newspapers involvement in political campaigns. To clear the air, so to speak.
It doesn't matter what the election, voting with your emotions on your sleeve can be dangerous. Voter remorse sets in quickly and before you know it, the person or issue that you steadfastly supported are now the cause of that pain in your shoulders and other regions that can't be described in a local newspaper. We all have had the feeling before but sadly enough fail to recognize the signs when future ballots are placed in front of us.
Itâ€™s fast approaching the time of year when I cook.
I should clarify the statement.
We do eat at our household. We always have and more than likely we always will, but most of the time I â€śfixâ€ť things. I reserve cooking for people like my late mother; the Courierâ€™s Pat Stuckey, who can cater meals to feed army-sized settings at the same time sheâ€™s doing six other things; Gail Nickerson, our Grits & Grace lady; and others who know what theyâ€™re doing when they walk into the kitchen.
I can identify a spatula in a utensil lineup, but when you get into more complicated gadgets, Iâ€™m at a loss.
Living with pets presents unusual challenges at times.
Sometimes the challenges can be BIG, particularly if humans get involved and the humans donâ€™t happen to be on the friendly side of the animal.
Case in point: A flooring project done at our house a number of years ago.
The work entailed ripping up old carpet to replace it with a vinyl-like floor that looked like hardwood.
Everybody at the carpet store was wonderful in accommodating me in what I wanted.
There were no problems until the actual work started.
It's time to put the conspiracy theories, the rumors and half-truths, the innuendo and all the other distractions of the school board election away. On a near daily basis, these very same tidbits made their way through various channels to the ears of our citizens. Some of the recipients, not all, would accept these nuggets as fact, repeat them and never question what they had just heard.
The changing of the seasons are times in which I relish being alive, particularly when summer changes to fall. Gone are the days of sweltering heat, the discomfort of sweat and the buzzing of mosquitos. For those of us who live outside the city it also means a goodbye to the slithering of snakes that are often found out in the fields and patrolling the creek banks in search of field mice and frogs.
Thereâ€™s an urban legend that claims the brassiere was invented by a man named Otto Titzling, who reportedly lost a lawsuit with Phillip de Brassiere.
This reportedly originated with the 1971 book â€śBust-Up: The Uplifting Tale of Otto Titzling and the Development of the Braâ€ť and was propagated in a comedic song from the movie â€śBeaches.â€ť
Itâ€™s not hard to figure out the reason to attribute the invention of the bra to a man. If I have to explain it, you probably donâ€™t need to be reading this prattle.
I look forward to a serious mopping project with about the same degree of enthusiasm I reserve for surgery sans anesthesia or being rolled buck naked on a gurney around the courthouse square.
Domestic chores in general are not the sort of thing that get me revved up, but eventually as they say in the commune, someone has to take out the garbage.
And so it goes with mopping at our house. The time comes when it has to be done.
I donâ€™t know if reading doctor columns is an indication someone might have an excessive interest in other peopleâ€™s problems.
Even if it does, I have to admit I enjoy them. I even learn from them. My favorite is â€śAsk Dr. Gott,â€ť the one by syndicated columnist Peter H. Gott, which until recently appeared in this newspaper. (I miss him already.)
Norman Vincent Peale wrote a book called â€śThe Power of Positive Thinking.â€ť
Iâ€™m considering acquiring copies of the work to distribute to candidates for local elections, including the ones who sought school board positions in the recent school election.
In the first place, I donâ€™t like lies, half-truths, false statements, â€śrearrangementsâ€ť of facts â€” in short, anything thatâ€™s not really the unvarnished truth.