poetry
A town everyone hates, yet no one leaves...
Tales from the Barn door
Exploring the spidery corners of a culture and the weird stuff that tourist brochures ignore.
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
I have Malignant Melanoma, my son had Testicular Cancer
Because once you get off this road, there's just no getting back on
from Morgan Bradham
There are 24hrs in a day, here are mine.
A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.
Because once you get off this road, there's just no getting back on
Another Good Day in Rural America © 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017 Ann Aikens ~ all rights reserved
Week-size morsels of the stuff we eat
poetry
A town everyone hates, yet no one leaves...
Tales from the Barn door
Exploring the spidery corners of a culture and the weird stuff that tourist brochures ignore.
Hiking with snark in the beautiful Pacific Northwest 2011 - 2013
I have Malignant Melanoma, my son had Testicular Cancer
Because once you get off this road, there's just no getting back on
from Morgan Bradham
There are 24hrs in a day, here are mine.
A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.
Because once you get off this road, there's just no getting back on
Another Good Day in Rural America © 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017 Ann Aikens ~ all rights reserved
Week-size morsels of the stuff we eat
What you’re missing in that photo is that Mrs. Bartholomew is actually about to push a mid-size boulder onto the head of the lounging Mr. Bartholomew, below.
And it makes me wistful for my old backyard shuffleboard days….
Perhaps, it was MRS. NOAH who toiled away in the post-flood garden. So? What’s new?
This reminds me of a feud I had with my Dad during the cold war. The Felician Sisters got us so worked up about an impending nuclear blast that I found the perfect room in our cellar for our shelter and was determined to save as many cans of spaghetti O’s and pitchers of water (the days before bottled water) as I could. I fought with him on a daily basis until he put his foot down and said we would not be building a shelter! I was furious with him for months afterward. After all… “Sister said”.
“Sister” was imbuing her young charges with quite a bit of adult fear it seems. I like the sound of your food and drink choices Lynda! I LOVED Spaghetti-Os growing up – and isn’t there a sweet sort of elegance to your pitchers of water!