I awoke last Wednesday to the sound of purring and the sight of a small cat face gazing at me from about 10 inches away.
I’ve always had a healthy respect for the Webster’s dictionary. In my line of work, it’s pretty much a given.
I’m pretty sure it’s a conspiracy.
It started out as a slow drip, then it became a trickle, then a steady stream.
My wife and I love our little neighborhood meadow.
Bothersome little health problems are part of getting older. I understand that.
A few years ago, I stood in line behind a 20-something guy at Starbucks as he paid for his latte with a debit card.