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Going to yard sales was an exciting part of my childhood. Saturdays meant meandering along rural lanes and city blocks, following signs.

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My Dad was known for an ability to spin a tale, and we cherished the mornings he stopped by for coffee and a story.

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Would those of you who enjoyed last week's hot-weather reminder that summer will be here far sooner than later, please raise your right hand.

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I have plenty to worry about. One of my ears sticks out farther than the other. I get my kids’ and grandkids’ names mixed up with long-dead relatives. If gas gets any more expensive, I will be…

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I have written about probably every stage from baby to toddler to little boy in some form, and have actually been a little perplexed by their current progression.

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It has been a few years since I began sleeping at night in my recliner which is located in the living room of the Henley hacienda.

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She was there with you, surrounding you, while you grew arms and legs and eyelids. Your heart beat in harmony with hers. Her blood was your blood; her oxygen, yours. She kept you safe and prot…

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There's something about the rain that's cleansing and refreshing when you curl up with a blanket and coffee and watch it pour outside the window.

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Forgive me for having to ask, but isn't it a protected right under the Constitution or Bill of Rights for an individual to be able to ask at least one stupid question a day without risk of per…

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The stool sits in the corner of our kitchen, where it’s been for over 30 years. It is ‘70s “shag carpeting” green. The paint is chipped here and there; black primer shows through from bumps an…

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Google is mad at me.I don't even know what I did, except that I asked directions to a place less than two blocks away.

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When I periodically pause to count the blessings upon which I have been bestowed, near the top of my list is having good neighbors. I could definitely be living in nicer areas of America's Hom…

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It’s time for spring cleaning. I know this, because I see the neighbors out there, wiping windows, sweeping stoops and just generally bustling about.

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I’ve always said that no matter where I go I’m usually the most awkward person in the room.

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It has come to my attention that many people do not fully appreciate being able to do something until he or she can no longer do it.

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Easter Sunday is a burst of joy wrapped in purple cellophane. It is bright sunlight on tiny leaves and white tights on wiggly little legs and dye-stained fingers fussing with freshly-washed hair.

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What a smorgasbord of weather conditions we experienced last week in Northeast Missouri. There was a day when the temperature was in the mid 60s and the sun shined brightly. There were also sp…

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When you have more than one child, it becomes difficult to remember their names. Oh, you know who’s who. And it is easy to pick them out in a crowd of other kids: “Mine…mine…not mine…looks lik…

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I usually sit in the second booth by the front door at the coffee shop.

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While there is certainly no arguing that last Friday was pretty much a washout, it is hard to deny that the remainder of the week had a definite spring feel to it as the afternoon high tempera…

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It’s Sunday afternoon. All is right with the world. The air is summery warm, the sky is dotted with fluffy clouds and the birds are singing.

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It was 7:30 a.m., and we were just about to walk out the door when Connor looked at me. The desperation in his eyes told me exactly what was about to happen.

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As Major League Baseball owners and players continued to haggle last week over the terms of a new labor contract, many fans were left to discuss their relationship with the sport.

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It’s happening more and more now. My husband and I have reached the unenviable age that is marked by almost daily obituary notices of famous people who were a vicarious part of our own life story.

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Life is full of awkward questions. They begin at an early age. A few for example: Who gave the dog a piece of taffy?

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My life has been filled with visual aids. Mom made sure she didn’t just tell me things. She SHOWED me.

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As a kid growing up my winter weather memories are of playing football with other youngsters from the neighborhood in which I grew up in Rolla regardless of how cold it was or how much snow fell.

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February is a tough month. Its days of lengthening sunlight hold little of interest to see. The ground is alternately hard as granite and sloppy with murky mud.

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What a difference 24 hours can make in the weather. No better example can be found than the weather experienced in Hannibal last Wednesday and Thursday.

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I was next in line at the grocery checkout. The woman in front of me was ready to pay; she fumbled her hand inside her purse and withdrew a worn, black, checkbook cover.

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Seventh grade. I was 13 and in love for the first time.

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How old am I? Old enough to remember when a beautiful church stood near the junction of Fulton Avenue and MO 79.

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“With proper care, you new washing machine should last a lifetime.” The young man at Lowe’s wiggled his eyebrows and patted the appliance. At first, I dismissed his statement as typical salesm…