One Friday morning when I was in college, a certain nice young man asked me on a date for that evening. I agreed without hesitation. There was just one problem. Another not-as-nice young man had already asked me out—sort of.
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One thing I’ve learned watching whodunits is that if you hear strange noises in another part of your house, you should never go investigate, especially if you’re home alone, it’s a stormy night, the power is out and there’s scary movie music playing. Actors do that all the time, and it never ends well for them.
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With good intentions and a little divine intervention, maybe they can be stretched to feed 5000, metaphorically speaking. Maybe our impact can spread like dandelion seeds in the spring or flu germs in an elementary school.
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Either I'm invisible or that clerk is holding out for the shift change so that someone else will have to wait on me.
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I’m kind of a “that’s close enough,” kind of person, and that doesn’t work if you’re building bridges, doing brain surgeries or rigging parachutes.
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Over the years, I’ve had a lot of things shift, but I’m not sure my paradigm is one of them.
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I’ve never heeded that old advice given to writers: “Write what you know.” If I would have, I’d have run out of column material a long time ago. Why stick to what I know? I've got Google.
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Older people are wise and mature. I’m neither wise nor mature, so it stands to reason that I can’t be old either.
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Did you hear about that fan who spent more than $190,000 on a pair of old shoes worn by Michael Jordan in the 1984 Summer Olympics? I think it was a cry for help. “Someone help me! I have too much money and I don’t know what to do with it.”
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From my spot at Boston Logan, I count at least a dozen people dozing, despite the hubbub all around. There are three young people lying flat on the floor, unconscious. I can’t sleep that well on a bed in a dark, quiet room. I’m tempted to wake them up and ask them how they do it.
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I screamed into the phone, “Stop calling me!” It was a recording.
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You know that old woman who swallowed a spider to catch the fly, and then a bird to catch the spider, and a cat to catch the bird, and a dog to catch the cat, then a goat, a cow and eventually a horse. And she died of course. Who wouldn’t? Frankly, I’m surprised she lasted as long as she did.
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