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This next Saturday afternoon at four o’clock, in the Comcast Arena in Everett, John and I will watch one of our six granddaughters graduate from… Continue reading
Ever since Eve got mixed up with that sly serpent in the Garden of Eden, women have been blamed for many things and called by… Continue reading
In the wee small hours of the morning of Jan. 12, 1940, Dad woke both me and my older brother from sound sleep and told us to come with him to see what he said was a late Christmas present that had just arrived. Imagine our disappointment when we followed him into their bedroom and saw a tiny, pink, wiggling, squeaking baby in our mother’s arms; not the bicycle Sonny wanted nor the Sonja Henie skating doll I’d wanted. A baby, and not a very cute one at that point, either.
Margaret Walton wants equality among the barista body-bearing set
As most Record readers know, we have a rabbit problem on the South End, thanks to the one-time popular Barnyard Scramble held yearly during the Island County Fair.
Push, pull, push, pull, use even strokes and stay within the lines. Now circles, spiral after spiral across the page; keep them even, uniform and… Continue reading
One thing I’ve learned over the years of writing this column is that I never know where my words might end up. I’ve been contacted… Continue reading
Spam is making headlines again. No, not the unwelcome flow of useless input that constantly pops into your computer; the other Spam, the pink meaty stuff that comes in a can.
Over the years, I’ve learned dirty words in several languages. I don’t mean to imply that I speak several languages, because I don’t, but for… Continue reading
Thanks to readers, friends and family members (who are often trying to reform my eating habits), I receive a lot of food/health related information, which I appreciate even if I don’t always follow through with some of the suggestions.
Well, what a surprise it was to read in one of those “other” papers that Barack Obama is a smoker.
Are you old enough to remember what a “Dear John” letter was? I’m not sure if such a thing still exists in this day of instant communication with our devices; perhaps now you simply text the person you want to “dump” and do it. But, during several of our assorted wars, large and small, when a soldier on deployment received a “Dear John” letter, it meant that the person supposedly waiting for him to return was, in fact, not going to wait after all, and was informing him of the situation in that letter. We all knew what “getting a Dear John letter” meant.
I’ve recently come across some very distressing information I’d never heard or read before. It has to do with becoming successful and/or wealthy, and what… Continue reading
I’ve been thinking a lot during the past few days about gifts I’d like to give my Dad for Father’s Day. Most of all, however, I wish I could give my Dad the one thing I know would make him happier than anything else, the one thing that could bring back that gleam in his eye and make him forget that he’s old and feeble now. I wish I had the power to give him back my Mom, Joetta, the love of his life for more than 70 years.
The Oscar for a starring role will go, of course, to the plump, juicy, golden brown turkey, sitting center stage on the Thanksgiving table.
It seems only a year or three ago that we were in the midst of New Year hysteria, waiting to see the end of the ’90s, counting the seconds until the dawning of that bright, shiny new year, 2000, the beginning of a new millennium.
In typical Pacific Northwest fashion, we’ve gone from moaning over our lack of summer weather to mild complaints about how hot and dry it has been this month.