‘Get Back Your Mojo’ Challenge


I guess I’m having a midlife crisis – okay hush you skeptics. I fully plan to live to the ripe old age of 124 which means I’m just barely middle aged. For some time now  I’ve been struggling with something to which I can’t assign a name.

I gave myself a facial but it didn’t make me feel any better.  I just felt like an old broad with mud on her face.

My old friend, the late Ada Harvey, called the condition

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Can you hear me now?

us better

This week my best high school buddies got together to launch plans for our 50th class reunion. If truth be told, it’s probably more like our 150th reunion because we get together at the drop of a hat. Nevertheless, we try to put on the dog at least every five years, and the 50th anniversary of our matriculation is cause to put on a dog AND a pony show.

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Scorched by the devil


Make that the DIRT Devil which has turned out to be the demon of darkness at my house.. My 30 year old Kirby passed away after Thanksgiving and I was forced to purchase a replacement.

There must have been an epidemic affecting the vacuum cleaner population because the only thing Wal-mart had in stock was the darn Dirt Devil.  Today I attempted to empty the canister and the bottom fell out, spewing dust and everything it gobbled up over the last 30 days.

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Gone missing: A sense of wonder


For some time now I’ve had the sense that something important was missing. I checked and all my underwear is in place, my tires have been rotated and bills are paid up for another month. What could it be?

I changed my toothpaste, bought some bubble bath and toyed with the idea of quitting my job and moving to Nepal. But then I remembered I am retired and have no job. Does anyone know where Nepal is?

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Short by 358 black eyed peas?


New Years Day was almost a disaster but in the end it was saved by my neighbor and serial good fairy, Brenda Chambliss. .

Feeling nauseous and fluey from a stepped-up chemo injection on New Years Eve, I couldn’t face the fare I have consumed with religious fervor for six decades.  The black-eyed peas, cabbage and cornbread would have to wait.  Then, at 4 p.m. Brenda delivered a package containing all that and more.  There was baked ham and her special fruit cake made from crushed vanilla wafers right in the box.  I must get the recipe for my next book. Even fruit cake haters will love it.

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