Puzzles
When my son was eight years old, he started a small newspaper called, Saturday News. Each issue carried two or three items about the Curran family and Greensboro, North Carolina, where we lived at the time. Chris sent copies to grandparents, aunts and uncles to keep them informed and solicit interesting stories. He even printed letters from readers such as the kind words from his Florida grandmother encouraging him to keep up the good work. The newsletters improved each week and by the time Chris was nine, with the aid of our new computer, he was producing professional-looking papers. That was twenty years ago. I ran across these newsletters as we were cleaning out our attic and chuckled as I read them. One article in particular caught my attention. SOLITAIRE Mom...
Nabber
For his retirement last year, I gave my husband a Nifty Nabber, one of those long poles you see inmates using to pick up trash along the highway. On our daily walks, we always see trash in the neighborhood and are confounded by people who don’t clean up their yards and surrounding streets. (It takes everyone, folks, to keep a neighborhood looking nice!) The trash has become one of our pet peeves, so I considered the Nabber a good choice. My gift was, of course, a joke; I never expected George to actually use it. But he has, driving around the neighborhood and getting out of the car to nab rubbish and put it in a bucket for later disposal. My husband, the Neighborhood Nabber. I retired recently so now he expects me to accompany him on these excursions. My job:...
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