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A year ago this week I was pretty nervous. We had spent a lot of time and resources to put together a new magazine, a tourism guide for the area, and it was about to be distributed.
Joe had flown off to North Carolina to visit his father and grandmother, and my wife was worried.
I agree with those folks who say there are two kinds of people in life—those who eat to live and those who live to eat. By looking at my waistline, it’s pretty easy to tell where I fit.
When I was growing up in Missouri, we just called it country music and it usually involved a guitar and a fiddle.
It sounded pretty simple the first time we talked about it: Plan a week’s vacation to Florida. But it’s been anything but simple.
Sunday was a special day around our house.
Was last week a bad week or a good week in the Mitchell household? It all depends on how you look at it, I guess.
The last three weeks I’ve been bogged down in history. Not just any history, but the 11 volumes of newspaper clippings detailing the 20 years of the Union County Historical Society.
It was one of those mornings last Friday. Rain was coming down in sheets. As I looked out our kitchen window, the side yard looked more like a creek than a lawn.
For a minute or two I thought it was the dumbest thing I had ever done. Then I remembered I was young once.
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