I’m a convert, a missionary of the Church of Croc. Do you have a minute, sir, to talk about footware?
Canned laughter. Who does that any more?
I feel relieved, mostly, but at the same time at a bit of a loss … working at the museum had become part of my identity. I’ll get over it, and am already looking for something else to do in my retirement years.
We didn’t watch Trump’s state of the union speech last night and after hearing about it I’m glad we didn’t. Of course everyone’s talking about it on Facebook and Twitter, so it’s not like we missed much.
I swear, these God-bothering scolds keep padding their lists.
I realize now that survivors of horrors are all around us, not just older people but young people too, with stories that will help the rest of us put our lives in perspective, if only we ask them to share those stories with us.
It gets my back up when people say dogs don’t have souls. If we have souls, so do they.
A couple of other examples from my own experience: I was born in southeast Missouri, where horses are harses, and lived for a year in northeast Montana, where the towns of Havre and Chateau are Haver and Shotto.