There are toys all over my living room floor — in the corners, under the desk and right smack dab in the middle of the floor, on a direct path between me and the remote control. We are talking about large, elaborate, die cut compilations of plastic in bright primary colors.
I heard about it first on Facebook, speaking now of the horrifically tragic accident that occurred on Interstate 16 between Statesboro and Savannah Wednesday morning.
What is the world coming to? I can’t imagine how things can get much stranger or people more ornery.
I am happy to report that we had a safe visit to Ephesus and Istanbul and are, or will be, by the time you read this, safely on American shores.
I never visited big cities when I was growing up in Porterdale — unless you count Macon. I don’t.
I am bad to procrastinate. Always have been. When I was in the eleventh grade I missed a chance to see Pistol Pete Maravich play because I had put off doing a project for Mrs. Meyer’s world history class until the last minute and had to stay home and make a poster about the Middle Ages.
I always enjoy meeting folks who read my columns—even the people who complain about my views. What is it they say about no such thing as bad publicity? At least they are reading what I write.
March really was mad, wasn’t it? And the madness carried over into April. Can you believe that they played a basketball game in a football stadium in front of 70,000 fans?
How are you going to cook your ham tomorrow?
Think the world is a big place? It is a lot smaller than you might think and I am reminded of that every day.