Drivers
There was a shooting a few days ago. A guy was driving down the road when another driver shot and killed him, then fled the scene. It’s understandably concerning…a busy road, middle of the afternoon, killer still on the loose. Citizens are concerned. Was it a random killing? Will it happen again? What was the motive? What efforts are being made to identify the killer? Will I be next? So many questions. So few answers. At least none that you will learn from the media. On the news tonight, a reporter, live from the general vicinity of the shooting, interviewed two men. Identified as Drivers. These men expressed opinions that the killer should be found and brought to justice and what a shame it was for the dead man and his family. They voiced concern...
Brown
My dog hates Brown. I’m not sure what created the animosity. Perhaps it stems from the years Prince was kept in our yard by means of an invisible fence. The fence kept him in, but didn’t keep others out, so the Brown driver could easily enter our yard to leave a package at the front door. Prince didn’t like it one bit. Sometimes when I brought the packages inside, I would see the words, BAD DOG, written on them. This made me curious about what transpired when I was not at home. I never smelled pepper spray, but I guess, instead, Prince got kicked or hit by the drivers—not that I blame them. If a big, loud dog came tearing after me, I would try to fend it off any way I could. It’s been three or four years since we depended on the...
Anxiety
Thirty cents. That’s all it took to ruin my day. Reconciling the bank statements at my office is not simple, especially for the main account with its numerous transactions. And it’s time-consuming, so I am delighted when I can quickly check off everything via QuickBooks and get that desired balance of zero. But today, there was a difference of thirty cents. Thirty. Measly. Cents. Poop. I went back through every deposit, studying the numbers to the right of the decimals. Then I went through every check and debit listed. Every single one. No discrepancy anywhere. That’s when I noticed in the reconciliation screen that the beginning balance was thirty cents different from the amount shown on the bank statement. How could that be? I pulled out...
Gossip
Seventh grade science was a most memorable class. It was Miss Miller’s first year to teach. She was an odd-looking little teacher, quiet and unsure of herself. Our class had far too many rabble-rousers to make it enjoyable for her. Miss Miller had no idea how to keep order and the energetic boys took full advantage, running the class as if they were in charge. Some of them were always in the restroom, missing the teaching as much as possible. Miss Miller never seemed to catch on to the fact that they didn’t really need to go. A few of the girls were wild, as well. Rhonda brought chocolate chip cookies to class one day and made a point of telling the female half of the class not to eat any. Turns out, she had used chocolate Ex-Lax in her batter...
Head
These days, head trauma is a suspected cause of dementia and Alzheimer’s. With my memory slipping, I sometimes wonder if a specific injury could be to blame. Oh sure, I’ve fallen off bikes and been hit by baseball bats, normal kid stuff that I wouldn’t expect to cause brain damage. But I’ve had some pretty significant injuries…. When I was four, I ran headfirst into a parked car. That’s right. A parked car. How? you may ask. I wasn’t blind. I was just too trusting. My sister and I had gone to Vacation Bible School with our neighbors. When we finished for the day, the three neighbor boys ran and jumped into their car, my sister close on their heels. I assumed they would leave the door open for me as they had for each...
Hair
At age 58, I decided to stop coloring my hair. I had highlights applied for years, but I hated the dull growth that quickly appeared around the roots. (My hair grows fast as a doggone weed.) The roots that continually grew out were brown with a smattering of gray, not bright and shiny like the highlights, but I wondered for years, would that really look so bad? With retirement looming, I needed to reduce my expenses and maybe, just maybe, look my age. I didn’t seriously think about making a change, though, until I was standing in line at the post office and happened to notice how ridiculous one of the employees looked. (Need I write this story under an alias to avoid someone “going postal”?) I had been seeing this lady since I moved here...
Beer
I tasted beer for the first time at age fifty-nine. We toured the Yazoo Brewery where they offered three different brews for tasting: Dos Perros, Pale Ale, and the one I finally broke down and took a sip of, the Hefeweizen. It’s an award-winning brew made with yeast that supposedly makes it taste like bananas with a hint of clove. I must have an undiscerning palate, however, as I didn’t recognize those tastes at all. My son, Chris, kept urging me to take a taste every time my glass was filled. Instead, the first two times, I handed mine to George, giving him a double portion (and ensuring my designated driver status). The third time, though, I gave in. Why? Good question. I grew up Southern Baptist, no drinking allowed. In fact, I seem to...
Recent Comments