I’m sure you’ve seen those obituaries obviously written by the deceased — I assume before they were deceased — which are laced with humorous tidbits like, “Earl skidded into the afterlife in a used-up carcass reeking of beer and baloney.”
High school is full of difficult lessons. Chemistry, algebra, geometry, British literature — all were tough for me. Heck, I even had trouble with the world’s most demanding typing teacher my freshman year of high school.
After my wife and I kept the grandbaby all weekend long, I realized that I still know how to change a diaper, I still know how to hold a baby, I still know how to feed a baby, and I still know that 2-month-old babies still have no appreciation for beef jerky.
In the past 15 years, I’ve been a member of about seven gyms. I’ve lost one pound, which is a little more than two ounces per gym — I’d like to congratulate them on their collective success.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about pain — ever since I developed something called “trigger finger” in my thumb. I don’t think I could actually pull a trigger with my thumb, but I guess that’s beside the point.
An awful lot of folks have said that if Donald Trump wins the presidential election in November, they are moving to Canada. About eight years ago, I remember many right-wingers threatening to move to Canada if Barack Obama won, sending us plunging into socialism — a threat I found awfully ironic since Canada is well to the left of the USA on many issues.
Now that the Republican and Democratic conventions are over and have put the lid on the primary season, we can now get to the important question of the general election, which is:
Some people want a nice expansive lawn and perhaps a lot of open spaces in the backyard where the kids can run, fly kites and shoot bottle rockets at low-flying aircraft — you know, good old-fashioned fun.
It’s been more than 16 years since I had a baby boy. Now, my stepdaughter has made me a “Pop” with another little boy. And by “little,” I mean little, as in 5 pounds, 10 ounces of little.
There was a time in my life — about 30 years ago — when I couldn’t stand to hear folks talking on the radio. Of course, my first car was a 1978 Toyota Celica with nothing but an AM radio, and the only station I could pick up was in Montezuma, Ga.
There are a lot of jobs I’m glad I haven’t had to tackle in my life — including barn cleaner, Kim Jong Un’s public information officer, police officer, soldier and Tour de France play-by-play announcer chief among them.
A recent study by the Earl Davis Sleep Foundation and Transmission Service found that adults in America get 37 percent less sleep than people do in most modern nations like Sweden and Denmark or even third-world countries like Honduras or Kansas.
It was about one year ago that I wrote a column titled “Why I’m Breaking Up with the Braves.” Now that the Braves are vying for the title of “Worst Braves Team Ever,” that appears to have been pretty good timing.
I’ve reached that age — old, I believe, is what the young’uns call it — where I’ve kinda peaked in my technological skills. Actually, it’s more that I’ve lost interest in advancement.
September in Callaway Gardens is the Blue Morpho Month. Meet Michael Buckman, the manager at the Cecil B. Day Butterfly Center, who brings blue morpho butterflies to the conservatory from tropical areas around the world.
Ang Liali@ledger-enquirer.com
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Meet the man behind Callaway Gardens’ Blue Morpho Butterfly Month
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NASCAR driver Ryan Newman takes Royals batting practice
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Sprint Cup champion Kyle Busch honored at the White House
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Director and choreographer works with cast to "discover the show"
