Rachel, you’re a wuss!
These guys: there’s always at least one with an ear turned inside out.
I don’t know where we are in this pandemic, so we took a break and went out to dinner with our friends Ed and Sue.
Seventy-five feels like one of those demarcation ages — like 21, 30, and 65 — though I’m fuzzy on what it demarks. Really old, as opposed to just old? Elderly with a capital E? The onset of dotage? Ice floe time? But, but … we don’t feel 75!
Now that intelligent and considerate people are masking again, I had a choice to make yesterday: whether to go to the monthly book club meeting in person or attend by Zoom. I chose wisely.
See? We don’t always have to choose the stupid thing!
Donna’s always coming up with ingenious ways to fix things and make them better. In another life, she’d have been an engineer. Wait. She’s an engineer in this life, minus the degree.
Can there be anything more courageous and self-sacrificing right now than guarding the perimeter of the airport in Kabul?