I looked like a life-size Barbie standing in the middle of Tonka Town amid groaning machines, dust whirling and noise sounding like jets crashing together.
My mama is dying, not "dying" for a new Jaguar or another slice of chocolate cake, mind you. Those things have been on her want list before, but not now. Heck, she even got the green Jaguar from my daddy and some chocolate cake on her 65th birthday.
Once upon a time we all learned penmanship. Grammar school children had big tablets with solid and dotted lines. We were taught to stretch our capital letters between the straight lines, and hit the dotted ones with the tops of small letters. It all looked like rows of boxes, some open and others closed.
On a regular basis I find fresh brown eggs waiting for me at the end of the driveway. Two egg crates will be balanced precariously on the gate posts. The eggs are gifts from the Wiygul's chickens, and fine eggs they are.
O, Chilton County peaches! Those Chilton County peaches! Just think how very much they give us pleasure; Under umbrella or shed,
A beautiful moon hung low over us this week. She waxed into her fullness early in the week, exploding into a fat, illuminated orb. Perhaps she was rehearsing for her harvest persona, the fiery sphere that truly reflects her counterpart, the sun.
Last month the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (the Oscar people) celebrated the innovative special effects and technology of the 1956 movie, "Forbidden Planet." In the MGM science-fiction classic, a space crew from Earth lands on a distant planet searching for survivors of a space ship that had landed there 20 years earlier. What they found were two survivors, a robot and a strange freighting Id monster.
Like most of you, I voted a week or so ago. To be honest, I almost didn't. I got home Tuesday mid-afternoon and settled in to the comfort of the air conditioner. Suddenly, that "forgotten to do something" alarm started beeping like a smoke detector in need of a new battery. I tried to ignore it.
The "dog days of summer" is usually the most miserable time of the year, especially in the South. It is so named because, for a few weeks in July and August, we are under the constellation Canis Major (Large Dog), which contains the "Dog Star," Sirius.
Well, they didn't come down from the mountain, and I'm not Moses, but here they are, 10 beauty "commandments" for wrapping up the summer.
Several years ago someone who ought to know informed me that nowhere in Mississippi did anyone live more than one hour's drive from some kind of live theater. That information surprised me somewhat.
Humans always seem to be "hunting" for something. I don't mean just the literal hunt for game. Southerners may "hunt" for our lost keys, or a great parking spot or a new job.
My guess is that you have already heard birds singing sometime today. I am not a birdwatcher, but you don't have to be one to notice that birds fit in all around us, and there are few environments, urban or rural, that are not enlivened by birdsong.
The last few weeks have been a sort of crash course in local politics for me. I have always considered myself apolitical. In New Orleans I thought I was middle-of-the-road when it came to politics. But, here in Columbus, I seem to be the poster girl for liberals.
Everybody knew who Evel Knievel was in his heyday. He made a living doing dangerous things, and had a knack for making them into spectacles that the whole world paid attention to.
After confessing to capturing some 50-odd raccoons and possums, a nice lady approached me about helping her rid her place of nuisance critters. She kindly offered to pay. While extremely flattered, I had to decline her request, as this gets you into a whole new ballgame, when you start charging to trap critters.
We have had the occasional flare-up of mass racial violence in the past few decades. We have had nothing like the summer of 1919, when there were riots and lynchings in many large American cities, and countless episodes of violence in smaller ones.