"The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter." —Mark Twain
Our other children
If I had a rant in me this morning, I’d lay into NPR for its slavish commitment to normalizing Trump, arguably not the worst unelected occupant of the White House (George W. Bush still has that distinction IMO), but certainly the most abnormal.
I’m just waiting for someone to tell me those are coyote tracks, because I have some very literal-minded friends who never understand when I’m joking, and of course I know those are coyote tracks because that’s why I took the photo, innit?
Don Martin was drawing for Mad in 1958, with his floppy-footed characters and wet-your-pants hilarious farty sound effects like “FLEEN!” and “FOOSH!”
As a patriotic American, living and working in America, speaking American English, a voting citizen who drives around in a big American pickup truck with Arizona plates, I never felt the need to remind my countrymen I’m one of them.
At our January homeowners’ meeting we agreed to kick in on cleaning up and landscaping the circle in front of Bob’s old house, and the installation of a memorial bench in his name, turning it into a neighborhood pocket park. We gathered there last night for the dedication of Bob’s bench, the finishing touch to the project.
Finally saw my first Kentucky Derby … actually my first horse race of any kind. Now here’s a televised sport I can endure while pretending to be as into it as everyone else in the room. I can do anything if I only have to do it for two minutes!
Monday last I had to haul my miserable hacking feverish runny-nosed voiceless self home from Pima Air and Space Museum after the first tram tour of the day, leaving my co-volunteers in the lurch. I made up for it yesterday with four nearly back-to-back tours, one every other hour, from the first tour of the day to the last.
We drove to Las Vegas to attend our grandson Quentin’s Eagle Scout induction ceremony, held at the regional Scout Council on Saturday, March 2nd.