Rachel George is busy moving into her new-old house in Columbus. That is not especially newsworthy; people move every day. But there is a neat little twist to this particular story. She is moving into a house one of her ancestors once owned after winning it in a poker game.
I consider myself pretty lucky in the fact that I don't have an all-consuming sweet tooth. Don't get me wrong, I certainly have my vices when it comes to cravings -- sugar just isn't at the top of my list. Every now and then in the summer I'll have a craving for ice cream and, of course, I'll eat whatever dessert is served at parties or get-togethers. Not because I particularly want it but mainly because I'll eat pretty much anything you put in front of my face.
Since the beginning of time, man has pondered some profound, possibly unanswerable, questions. Even today, in the 21st century, there are inquiries so baffling that they remain a mystery. One example is: Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Or, have you ever wondered why humans continue to stare into the refrigerator, even though the contents do not magically evolve into something different? And, of course, there is the age-old query, do blondes really have more fun?
If age is just a number, why the heck are we so obsessed with reversing it? I have never heard a woman in her 30s wish to be older, wiser maybe, but not older. Yet, beautiful women who are both wiser and older often sigh into the mirror, tugging on fine lines and wrinkles while I tug on their hair with a round brush.
Change is difficult, although not impossible. Breaking a bad habit and replacing it with a new healthy habit takes a pretty serious commitment and lots of dedication. Whether it's a desire to quit smoking, eat healthy, or exercise daily, implementing a new routine can be daunting, all-consuming, and exhausting.
The heart is an abiding organ. It can expand to hold love in all forms. It can endure bruises and damage. It can crackle like shattered glass and keep beating in the human chest. This column is dedicated to anyone who has ever loved an animal and who has lost one so deeply loved.
Layering might sound like something we Southerners do around tailgating time -- perhaps a cardigan worn over a collegiate polo finished off with a "say something" scarf. Lord, have mercy. It's too hot for those kinds of layers right now!
Two things: Last Sunday I attended what was intended to be the final performance of the Columbus Community Theatre's comedy, "Casserole Patrol," directed by Linda Bobbitt. Since all performances had been sold out, there will be an additional performance Friday, Aug. 10, at 7:30 p.m. in the Omnova Theater at the Rosenzweig Arts Center.
The South" (the saúth), noun. The place where: Tea is sweet and accents are sweeter. Summer starts in April.
Tis the season of umbrella drinks. Whether you're enjoying a piña colada at the beach, sangria at a backyard barbecue, a margarita poolside, or just an ice cold beer at the river this summer, you can still keep your bikini body in check and enjoy the occasional cocktail.
It's so hot that my hydrangeas are fainting in the backyard. The town seems almost vacant between the hours of noon and 4 p.m. every day. It looks like a ghost town, and I'm convinced everyone has just melted. Perhaps the smart ones are at the beach, the pool, or in Alaska.
You've probably been waiting to see what the Lehman's Non-Electric catalog, mentioned in my last column, has to offer.
Several people have commented on Eugenia Summer's story about getting a jukebox at Mississippi State College for Women. They are usually people who remember attending the college in those years, as I do. I thought, well, I, too, have a W story; and maybe I ought to tell it, although it does not reflect very well on me.
Feeling childlike is timeless, and never has it been more fun to be feminine. Yesterday I stood perfectly still in the middle of the mall, entertained through a store glass window by two girls with blonde bobs giggling and trying on the daintiest of headbands.
I have reason to believe that the gods of technology hate me. Paranoia? Perhaps. But the evidence is mounting every day. Last week our telephone (yes, we still have a land line) did not ring for about six days. In a way, this was quite lovely. I do not answer the phone, anyway, because it is always for Chris. For a while we could make outgoing calls. Then, nothing. Nothing in, nothing out.
Even as a child, enchanted by the luminous stained glass windows in Laurel's First Baptist Church, Jane Crawford was captivated by the jewel-like beauty.
Finally -- rain! This week the Golden Triangle area got some much needed rain. It wasn't too great for my little dogs, who do not like to go into the backyard when the grass is wet. However, for everyone else, the showers were a wonderful event. Gardens perked up and flowers smiled.
"But I hate to cook." I hear it all the time. Whether it's too time-consuming, too messy, or the end result is less than appetizing, one's disdain for sautéing, simmering and stirring seems to be the number one reason for falling off the weight loss bandwagon.
Shade is an asset during summer's triple-digit temperatures, but you may find a shady spot in the landscape that needs some color.
The July-August issue of "Readers' Digest" carries a feature in which people make short comments about places that have meaning for them. Mississippi has two: one about Smithville recovering from last year's tornado, and one by Morgan Freeman about why the Delta is special to him. Columbus did not have an entry. One would not expect it to; there is no special reason for us to be included. The article did make me think, however. What would one say about Columbus if invited to do so? I decided to give it a try.
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