It's the eve of Christmas Eve, the fourth night of Hanukkah. It's nice when the two holidays fall close together on the calendar and everybody is feeling festive at the same time.
When I lived in Columbus (that's Georgia, not Ohio), I subscribed to the local newspaper, the Ledger-Enquirer.
The problem is very real. Sales of live-cut Christmas trees have been falling for years. Fresh-tree sales declined from 37 million in 1991 to 31 million in 2007. Meanwhile, artificial tree sales nearly doubled to 17.4 million between 2003 and 2007.
Our daughter, Rachel's, senior year is here at last. It's been a flurry of SAT Saturdays and scholarship application deadlines. Every day the mailbox is full of brochures and invitations from colleges as far away as Maine and Hawaii.
Last week I bumped into the daughter of an acquaintance. I hadn't seen her since she was in middle school and, now, here she was with a brand new baby. The infant was adorable, dressed in a camouflage-patterned green sleeper and a white hat.
When my daughter, Molly, was in grade school, there was a bookstore in the shopping center where my business is located.
Every now and then I like to write an epilogue column. As I've said in the past, most stories don't have an ending, just more story. And so it is with the Greyhound story.
"How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!" - King Lear, act 1, scene 4
Murphy's Law asserts that if something can go wrong, it will. I'd like to offer Glazer's Axiom: Bad news always arrives on Friday after 6 p.m.
The hen must have escaped from a poultry truck. She crouched in the middle of the lane, trembling as passing cars whooshed by her. A couple of them whooshed over her.
I've done some challenging things in my life. I've earned graduate degrees, worked with some of Georgia's most hardened criminals, even managed to keep a small business afloat during these scary economic times.
Molly, our oldest daughter, had been driving for three months when she totaled her car. She hit a patch of black ice and skidded nose-first into a ditch. The driver behind her hit the same patch and slammed into the back of her car. Her little green Honda was compressed to the size of a Mini Cooper.
Our Ginger was adopted from the Hall County Animal Shelter in February 2010. Just as most parents are certain their child is exceptional, most rescue pet owners are sure that they lucked up on an extraordinary dog or cat. We're no different.
I almost called in sick this week. Usually by Tuesday, I have a pretty good Idea of what subject I'll be addressing in Friday's column. By then something that I've read in the Times or seen on Good Morning America or heard on PBS or stumbled across on the Internet will have grabbed hold and won't turn loose. Sometimes it's sparked by a conversation with my husband or daughters or with a friend. I never ...
Jay Rodgers and his family were on their way home from a Tim McGraw concert last month when they stopped at a gas station in Atlanta. As he was going into the station, he held the door for another man to enter.
Over time, I've fallen into a morning routine that has become invariable. I wake up, feed the animals, make coffee, read the headlines on gainesvilletimes.com and then log on to Facebook.
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