I like to collect "facts" about the places I visit. As we are in Florida this week for a good ol' Great American Beach Vacation, I thought I'd share some of the "facts" I learned/made up this week!
Had a chance to take the family out on a boat for a few hours yesterday.
There is a series of busy intersections near our house whose traffic lights SEEM like they were programmed by a group of juvenile barn mice who have fallen into the moonshine. I wish I could’ve been there when whatever counsel came up with the plan.
I, for one, am not very comfortable with our new digital assistant lifestyle simply because it doesn't enforce the common etiquette of manners observed in polite society. We, on our thrones of sentient thought, simply tell our digital underlings what to do.
When I was a kid, I wanted to grow up to become a professional baseball player. I wanted to make a living playing a game that I loved. . .
Like happens often this time of year, my kids’ school gave out “character” awards as a way of honoring the hard work and unique personalities of the children. In our case, these were based on desirable traits of Bible characters (e.g. The Noah Award for leadership). I love it. It did make me reflect, however, … Continue reading Less Desirable “Character” Awards
. . . the disappointment I’ve seen lately when it comes to earnings reports for certain companies is getting out of control. No one seems happy with what appear to me to be incredible numbers. . .
People are upset that Amazon employees are listening in on our private conversations through our Alexa devices. I say it won’t be a problem much longer...
I don’t know what the rest of you did for Valentine’s Day, but my lovely lady and I spent an intimate evening . . .
I stood outside, bewildered and sad.
Now that my kids have learned to play the piano, often providing the soundtrack to our lives these days, it sometimes feels like we’re living in an Old West saloon.
Is there a gas pump left in America where we can just pay at the pump and be about our business? They are still at it:
I understand that you're not supposed to cry over spilled milk. But what about when you trudge out to the store in the early morning subzero wind chills to buy milk, and then trudge back home with milk, and then five minutes after you bring milk into the homestead . . .