One of those ads for health care coverage came on TV recently, and it transported me right back to my childhood.
Perhaps you’ve seen it — a beefy, bearded adult man has “waited too long” and is taking swimming lessons with half a dozen or so cheerful youngsters.
He looks miserable, and I feel his pain.
Somebody’s having a birthday this week — can you guess who?
Recently, I went to see my son Domer in The Land of the North, and we took a little day jaunt to “one of the most visited tourist destinations in the world.”
Can you guess what that was?
Yesterday morning, I went to Wal-Mart to pick up groceries for Mom and a few things for myself.
When it came time to check out, I spied one un-busy register and made a beeline for it.
That’s when I noticed the “20 item maximum” sign hanging over the checker’s head.
This was the view outside my kitchen window yesterday evening:
An almost perfect full moon in a pink and purple sky. I thought it too lovely not to share!
Today we have spitting rain, blustery winds, and grey skies. Can Ole Man Winter be far behind?
Why doesn’t Fall stick around a lot longer?
By the way, November’s full moon is referred to as the Full Beaver Moon, or the Frosty Moon, take your pick.
Have a super weekend, everyone!
I suppose by now most of you have heard that Brittany Maynard, the young woman with a terminal brain cancer diagnosis, opted to end her life over the weekend in an effort to “die with dignity.”
My thoughts, of course, are shaped by my Catholic upbringing, so if you’re in the camp that lauds Ms. Maynard for her “bravery,” feel free to move along, rather than subject yourself to the “other” side.
(And no hard feelings, okay? We’re ALL entitled to our own opinions!)
Today, writers across the globe begin the grueling challenge of NaNoWriMo.
National Novel Writing Month is a 30-day period set aside for writers (and wannabes) to complete a 50,000-word novel. There’s a LOT of hoopla surrounding it — pep talks, guides to success, tweets, blogs.
Too bad. Once again, I won’t be joining them.
This year, my problem is TIME (or rather, the lack of it).
Musings by an ND Domer's Mom 