When I think of Nashville, I think of legends like Hank Williams and Johnny Cash, both of whom are, in fact, dead and therefore eligible for building naming status. I would have no qualms texting my wife about a three-hour layover in “Hank” or “The Man in Black International.” But telling her I’m “stuck in Oprah for the time being”? Different story.
I am fortunate to have a career that allows me to put smiles on faces. Moments before meeting Cassandra, I had done just that for an audience of 400 people. Cassandra, I could tell, was longing to return to a vocation that would allow her to do the same, despite the long hours and low pay. Until then, she was chauffeuring strangers around in her own vehicle, trying to keep her daughter entertained and, all the while, apologizing. It didn’t seem right.
"Let's sing a song about a creature who defies authority by only pausing for a moment, when the traffic cop specifically told him to stop. It's a good thing that cop acted appropriately, allowing Frosty to melt away instead of using excessive force. Imagine the lawsuits."
Extension cords are nowhere to be seen on my neighbor’s properties; meanwhile, a slew of heavy duty orange cables snakes across my lawn at all angles. If a teenage rock band pulled up and the lead guitar player said, “Dude, mind if we plug in?” I could accommodate them.
Welcome to November, the most confounding month for those who reside in climates that actually feature four seasons. All you sissies who retreated to year-round warm weather environs, you may stop reading if you wish. Go winterize your own homes. In other words, close the screens on your porch halfway.
Just look out your window. Chances are construction crews are digging a Pickleball court on your front lawn and four senior citizens are lingering nearby, with one calling, “We’ve got next!”
I once strained to order, in German, a sandwich in a Munich deli and became so flustered that I believe I ordered a ham on cement with mustard and pencil shavings.
I thought my high school years were uneventful, but evidence to the contrary was all there; in writing. I was a drunken thief who told offensive jokes, had questionable class attendance and may have acted inappropriately with women, some of whom I can’t even recall.
What is it about that frozen dairy delight that elicits a Pavlovian response when we encounter someone else eating it or, in extreme cases, simply discussing it? When I see someone approaching me while gorging on a slice of pizza, I don’t immediately seek out the nearest pizzeria and order up one for myself. Usually, I think, “Dude, get a napkin.”
The Gosar attack ad made me realize that, if I ever throw my hat into any political ring, I will need to take a long look at my relatives. Well, first I’d have to make sure I never acted inappropriately with women at college parties. THEN I’d look at my relatives