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Over time, life changes in many ways. Some I can adapt to easier than others.
Now, don’t start thinking I’m headed off into some deep philosophical discussion about the meaning of life.
I was having second thoughts about the whole thing at 3:15 in the morning Saturday, when I quietly got out of bed and headed toward the shower.
Having lunch at the Olive Garden Saturday wasn’t really such a good idea.
This Christmas my wife steered me, kicking and screaming, into the 21st century. She gave me a navigation system for my car that gives you on-screen directions to get you where you want to go.
The only thing left from the visit was the “Dora the Explorer” sunglasses. Joe found them on the floor under his bed after 2-year-old Sarah and her parents had left Saturday for their home in northern Virginia.
It was 8 o’clock Christmas morning and Jenny was getting a little peeved.
Three or four months after I arrived at the Gazette in May 2009, a friend asked if I had started working on Sharing at Christmas yet.
We should have seen it as an omen. When we got out of the car at the outdoor mall in Collierville, Tenn., it started pouring rain.
It was 9 o’clock on a Saturday morning and Jenny had just dialed her mother in northern Kentucky for their weekly phone conversation.
The thought of traveling around the country with your dog, as author John Steinbeck did in his book, “Travels with Charley,” has a certain romanticism about it.
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