Opinion

We moved our old fridge to the rent house last night. Mike rigged up a ramp to get it off our porch into his truck. It was on a dolly about a foot wide. The ramp was 1 foot and 1 inch. He was blindly pushing towards the ramp. He hit the bench, then the porch post and lastly a flower pot before he said “You’re supposed to be guiding me.” Ahhhh, that would make more sense. We finally get it in the truck and he says “Now, get off the porch and guide me.” He rolls down all 4 windows and started moving up. I say nothing. He says, “Don’t let me pinch that.” several times. After about the 4th time I yell, “I don’t know what that means!” He said “Dent. Don’t let me dent the tailgate on the house.” Would that have not been just as easy to say? We slowly drive next door to the rent house as I watched the fridge in the back. We pull up in the yard and he said “I would feel better if you were backing it up and I rode in back with the fridge.” I really don’t think he would feel better. Against my better judgment I got in the driver’s seat. He walked out the path he wanted me to drive while motioning with his hands. He then climbs in the bed and says “Ok, inch forward slowly and watch the holes.” Keep in mind, it’s dark now and this is maybe the third time I’ve ever driven his truck. I can barely see over the dash and hood much less see a hole, in the ground, in the dark! I rocked it on the inching forward but then he said “Ok, now back up to the porch slowly.” Over the next 5 minutes of me blindly backing up he said “Couple more inches.” no less than 74 times. I have no idea how but I made it. He backs the dolly and fridge out of the bed and heads for the door. While ordering the new fridge I learned the old refrigerator was 33” wide. The door opening is 34” wide. Another 10 minutes of my expertise guidance and the old refrigerator is in its new home. We still have to hook up the ice maker but I felt our marriage couldn’t

After enjoying the breakfast buffet at Dora’s Sale Barn Cafe, we embarked on an adventure. I, well, I was just riding shotgun and loving it. Have you heard about the new antiques/gift shop in Imboden, The Vintage Beetle, where I had planned to go? I wanted to get a big round mirror to go on top of a bookcase in our living room. I had seen it on their Facebook page and had intended to get it, but things just kept getting better! We hardly had time to breathe for all the talking when we were together. On another mission, we headed to Hardy, enjoying the beautiful day with flowers springing up in yards along the way. I soon found myself glued to her story as she waved her hand across the hills and told me about a once-upon-a-time foraging trip they had been on. It seemed getting to the exact place on that mountain had been a challenge both ways! I was more than a bit in awe at the description of their leader. She seemed to know things and was tougher than a pine knot; I now think of her as Arkansas’s own female version of Indiana Jones! Please take me with you next time. The sun felt good shining in the windows, and soon we needed a drink, so we stopped at the Sonic in Ash Flat. Two large cherry limeades, please—landsakes, they were good.

One thing that has changed dramatically in my lifetime is the games children play. You know where they play now– usually indoors on their phones or PCs sitting or in a prone position. The only movement involved is by their thumbs.

Pet owners have many reasons why they choose to surrender their pets. The humane society understands that at times there will be various VALID reasons for giving up a pet. But instead of being so quick to give one up, the circumstances should be rethought and perhaps a resolution could be found wherein the pet would not have to be relinquished.

Mike hates a flat pillow. We finally found him some fancy-never flat-feels like it’s stuffed with bricks-don’t call me for a pillow fight-pillow. It is apparently da bomb. Only drawback I have found is it is about the size of a small Buick. If he gets off kilter in bed at all, it’s shoving me off the other side. The other night he rolled over, his pillow shifted and the next thing I know, my head is covered by this monstrosity of a sleeping device. I pushed it off my face and elbowed Mike telling him he’s smothering me. He said “It wasn’t me, it was the pillow.” Why do I feel that may be part of an alibi statement one day?

The first known ancestor of the Seawel family of Randolph County, AR, was Thomas Sowell, born in Bristol, England, in 1597. He died in 1649 at Sewell’s Point near Norfolk, Virginia.

At this time of year, gardening is on people’s minds. People are starved to see green growing things, not food, mind you; there is the grocery store for that. Racks have been appearing in all sorts of stores for some time now, filled with small packets of flowers and vegetable seeds. When it comes to my garden, my mind takes flights of fancy. What shall we plant this year: shrubs, trees, bulbs, seeds? I find myself walking around the yard trying to visualize how different plants would look in a certain spot. Thinking about just how beautiful it will all be one day when everything is in and starts to grow. One of us thinks the yard is already too full, while the other believes there is always room for more of everything. We do realize there is a need for more sunlight on our small plot of good earth! A small fortune was spent last year; there were watermelons, tomatoes, yellow crooked neck squash, green beans, chard (which had been a total failure), and okra. It was a bit like Jack’s beanstalks. It grew so tall Red had to stretch up as high as he could reach, and then bend it over carefully so as not to break the stalk to cut the pods off; you might call it an overproducer. There were bell peppers, and still more. My pride and joy had been several rows of sunflowers, planted in a huge variety of different seeds. Then, I did a bit of an artistic spin on planting them. I planted them all across the backyard and then curved them around and up toward the house. Planted so many different varieties of sunflower seeds, they came up at staggered intervals. They were hardy plants, and some had grown tall quickly. Then one day I was shocked to see that the ones just coming up had been eaten off at the ground. Later, some larger hardier ones had been ridden over and chewed off, leaving about 10 inches of the stalks still standing. The rest, already with big leaves, was withering in the sun. Talk about sick, I felt like a farmer that lost his crop. We waged a losing battle,

The four seasons–I’m glad we’ve got ‘em. I’ve lived in the tropics where you have two seasons, the wet and the drier.