Sam and I were on our way to the costume party; I rode beside him dressed in my bumblebee outfit. While I fought with my antennae bumping the headliner, I described costumes from a Miss Hospitality Pageant.
If you have read Mark Twain's wonderful "Life on the Mississippi," you have seen the classic portrait of steamboating on the great river, with its sense of privilege, adventure and (essential in Twain) comedy.
Sherlock Holmes, Sam Spade, Lord Peter Wimsey and Hercule Poirot are among the most famous of literary characters. They may have had their eccentricities, but being of an exotic or foreign racial extraction was not among them. It's different for another famous shamus, Charlie Chan; I know detective fiction fans might be able to think of some other non-white gumshoe, but he's the only one who comes to my mind.
In 1851 Joseph B. Cobb published a book titled "Mississippi Scenes." It contained one of northeast Mississippi's earliest ghost stories, "The Legend of Black Creek."
When I get in a car, I always buckle up -- have for a long time. In the early '80s one of my job duties was safety briefings, most of which, back in those days, amounted to nothing more than switching off the lights and switching on a projector.
Every season has its charm. I love the clothes of cold weather -- boots and berets and fuzzy scarves. And I adore those endless evenings of summertime's daylight saving hours, the dusk pierced by fireflies. However, I am always pleased to see the end of deep cold and early darkness. I would be quite content if summer lasted only about a week or two.
To layer or not to layer, that is the question -- with apologies to Shakespeare! Ladies layer everything nowadays. It begins with cosmetics: makeup primer first, moisturizer second, then finally the foundation and maybe a concealer before the color even begins.
Most people who grew up in the South think of homes built during the 1800s as being painted white. The "new" exterior paint colors of the Tennessee Williams home have caused many people to ask me, "Where in the world did they get those colors from?"
The weather this week has been so marvelous that I considered becoming a Pantheist. I imagine it is a solitary sort of worship, no mega-churches, no tithing, just recognizing the divine in nature.
This "60 thing" has been a lot tougher than I thought it would be. Having lost one of my best all-time running buddies at the young age of 26, I made a promise to myself that I would never fret over a birthday.
The leaves are falling. I know this because for the past few days brown crumpled leaves from the giant shade trees lining my driveway here in Jackson stare back at me.
People like to hang out with the famous. You can, for instance, pay someone like Paris Hilton to come to your party, and thereby increase the chances that your guests will come away happy, although being close to Ms. Hilton might not convey any real power.
The world is spinning at such a rapid pace these days. How are we ever supposed to keep up? The daily paper is not enough. We must check the Internet, social networking, anything we can glean from grocery store check-out rags, and, of course, our hairdresser.
Temperatures cooled down, so after chores Sam and I went fishing in the Prairie pond. I don't think we had been fishing since spring.
That's right, ladies. If you take your cue from the runways of New York fashion week, then on your mark, get set, go -- with the hottest trend in hair color.
One of my four cousins, Laurence Mellen, of Cleveland, Miss., called me recently with an enticing invitation. His brother, Arthur, who lives in Virginia, would be here a few days. They proposed the three of us go on a search in Clay County for our grandparents' house.
We live in a world of too much, but can one ever have too much beauty knowledge? Tips, tricks and tidbits that might be trivial to some could be the difference in the life and death of bangs gone wrong or cheek color that leaves you less than blushing.
In an early scene of "Sweet Bird of Youth," Chance Wayne tells The Princess Kosmonopolas that he always keeps a spare name in his pocket. "Don't you?" he asks her.
Intermittently, teasingly, autumn approaches. The nights have been cooler for several weeks. Even the days bring a frisson of winter. After a harsh, hot summer it feels good.