Over lunch, Debbie and I were having a conversation about someone we knew in our youth and were wondering what had happened to him.
In a recent conversation, a guy friend commented on seeing someone, saying, "She was in evening makeup."
If you ever hear that I have been baby-sitting, know this: It was an absolute act of desperation on the part of the mothers. It means there was no other option.
The text from my friend, Stevie, popped up on my phone. "We made the Hall of Fame! Woo Hoo!!!"
Hello Readers, it's me, Dixie Dew again. There was such an overwhelming response to the column I wrote a few months ago, that I was asked to give y'all an update. For those of you who might be so uninformed as to not know who I am, let me fill you in. I'm the adorable red dachshund who is known and loved by many. My ...
Once I was aboard a riverboat called the American Queen on which I had spent several days cruising along the majestic Mississippi River. I boarded in New Orleans and, along with the other passengers, crawled toward St. Louis.
Let's agree: This will be a new year unlike any other in recent time. Let's each make a vow to do something bold, unexpected and something that will make a fresh imprint on the path of our lives.
If the experts are to be believed, then Christmas seldom lives up to our high expectations, and that's why so many are stricken with depression and gloom during the holidays. It's a letdown after a big buildup.
I guess it had been more than a year that I had been thinking that I wasn't as funny as I used to be. When you make your living with witty observations and entertaining stories, this isn't an asset you want to lose.
Out of the blue one day, I got an email from an old, beloved friend from my NASCAR days. In the days when first I met him, Jim Freeman was the public relations director at the Talladega track. That was when the publicity at all the tracks was run by men, some college educated, some not, who were amicable, back-slapping and well-liked.
When Miss Virgie, my beloved mentor on all things Southern proper, came to visit with her husband, Bill, she lovingly lectured me whenever I fell short.
It's a Thanksgiving tradition, albeit one started accidentally a few years ago. Now, it has become as important as turkey and dressing and cherished as much as the dinner with family and friends.
A couple of years ago, I was in Fayetteville, Ark., having dinner with a few folks including two of the loveliest people I know, Gen and Frank Broyles.
My brother-in-law, Rodney, called me up one day. He's one of my favorite people, and even when I should get mad at him, I never can. He's so charming and funny.
When word filtered out that she was gone - just packed up and disappeared like a vapor in the broad, bright light of day - I found no surprise in it.
Recently, I was in a bookstore with a friend. We stopped at a table near the front of the store and it was loaded with different books that had such obscene titles that many of the words were expressed as "@?*#."
Mama was stubborn. "Set in her ways," is what country folks call it and boy, was she. When she made up her mind, nothing stopped her. Especially when she set her jaw and punctuated her declaration with a firm nod of her head. If she also threw that crooked forefinger in your direction, you knew it was set in stone. Destined to be.
One day over lunch, my new-to-the-South-but-thoroughly-loving-it husband commented on the choir singing at our church, which is led by my brother-in-law, Rodney.
In the past several years, I have had as much luck visiting the historically preserved home of iconic Southern writer Eudora Welty as I would have had when she was alive. The front door is always shut to me.
To be downright honest, I never expected to miss him this much. And, if the deeper truth be told, perhaps it isn't just the loss of a singular man, though great and admirable he was.
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