Month: May 2018

I saw a Pablo Picasso quote tonight. It really struck me. “The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.” Yep. That’s it, I think. Exactly. Everyone has their own unique

I was looking through my curious words list. Okay, so I don’t really have a curious words list. It is more like a junk drawer in my email. Anyway. Every now and again, I am reminded of them. Like. Demagogue.

I believe there is a lot we don’t know about in the world. Wider yet, the Universe. We have no way of knowing how it all works. There are a lot of good guesses out there. And then sometimes, there

Is it just me, or has another primate made a newsworthy jailbreak? Again. Yes, this time, the story comes to us from the San Antonio International Airport. A baboon escaped from a crate. And on a Monday afternoon, of all

I saw a great quote this morning. It was this. “We are all gifted. That is our inheritance.” We are all gifted. That is our inheritance. Wow. How incredibly true is that? Like the Universe owed us anything to begin

I’m just going to put it out there. Grackles get a bad wrap. They are a common bird around these parts. Sometimes, they gather in large groups, here or there. I’ve seen them hanging out on miles of telephone wire.

On any given day, just one of these news stories would have been huge. But they all seemed to come forward on Friday, and all had to share the spotlight today, unremarkably. Another massive school shooting occurs, in which ten

I would write about another school shooting. The one that happened today, in Sante Fe, Texas. The one that killed ten more kids. I’d write about that. Again. But it wouldn’t matter. Not one iota. An Iota is the ninth

It sure has grabbed the United States of the Bandwagon, once again. That thing. The cute news story that everyone grabs hold of, and pays attention to. I tire of them rather quickly. Like, the second time I hear about

There are things that are gone and probably won’t come back. I miss a bunch of those things. That rotary dial telephone, the very heavy one, that used to sit on my grandparents’ vanity desk. It was black, and solid.