Social ImPedia

Enough people have been asking me lately, what happened to my blog, where have I been? So, I reckon I best get back to writing. You see, I had “ragequit” Facebook last month and stopped writing altogether. I had gotten “too Face’d.”

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A Wee Cough

I had a marvelous week off, vacationing in St. Louis, Atlanta and finishing my trip in Gulf Breeze FL. I came down with a bit of some bug my last two days, but it didn’t dampen my drive to experience the sun and sand.

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Off Track

I’m not quite sure when my love of trains began. Perhaps it started when I was small, and my father used to take us to see the circus trains as they rolled through the countryside on their way to Milwaukee.

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Flag-gergasted

It’s June 14th – Flag Day. Nestled in the Northwestern corner of the county where I grew up, lies a small town of about 600 people. The town’s name is Waubeka, and it’s the birthplace of Flag Day. Every year on a Sunday near June 14th, they host a huge Flag Day celebration.

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Muffle Her

Last weekend it was warm, and I drove with my Jeep’s windows down. As I neared home, I turned onto my street and the neighbor on the corner yelled: “Your car is too loud!” Huh?” I jokingly thought to myself with a snicker.

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In Memory Of…

Two of my brothers and I stood atop Grandad Bluff watching the sunset fade. The temperature was warm, and the wind whipped my hair. The twilight colors set a peaceful mood. We had just lost another one of our older brothers and we soaked in the moment, in remembrance.

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Rhubarbarian

If cranberry and celery had a baby, they’d name it rhubarb. Who knows, maybe there’s a bit of Granny Smith in that pseudo-family tree, too. Either way, what can I say except rhubarb is tart. Brutally, wonderfully, deliciously, tart.

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Rough Ter-Rain

It’s a chilly Saturday evening – the eve of Mother’s Day – and my youngest son, a teenager, is bored. “Let’s go hiking or something, mom.” He laments. My husband pecks away at his computer keyboard, working on his homework, so I reckon it’s up to me to keep the man-child busy.

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In the Pink

I used to hate the color pink. I think it stemmed from when I was younger, my mother only ever buying me pink clothes for my birthday and Christmas. Perhaps it was her attempt to cure me of my tom-boyish ways.

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