Cultural Exchange

  Yesterday we had a kind of upper crust yard sale of women’s clothes. It was one of our fund-raisers for next January’s theatrical production, and it turned into quite a study of human nature. First, there were all those guys who felt left out. As we pointed out, there’s nothing to stop them putting on their own…

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Little Pleasures

I rise snuffling and hacking from my sickbed only long enough to report the arrival of my newest granddaughter, who has feet like plates of meat and hands like Rachmaninov but is otherwise tiny, elfin and good enough to eat. I’d forgotten how easy it is to spend hours just watching a newborn baby shuffle through its deck of facial expressions.…

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Golly

A quick post before I fly off to the UK to meet my newest grand-daughter, now four days old and still without a name. She has arrived just as England attains a new level of politically correct idiocy in what I’ll call the Golliwog Incident. Any Brit over the age of 50 has a golliwog in their past. They were…

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