Pam Stone

One of these days I might just put up a cot inside my local Greek eatery as I tend to spend far more time there than in my own kitchen. And if you’d ever tasted my, what some people might refer to as, cooking, you’d understand why.

“That doesn’t look good,” said Paul, happening upon me icing my leg at the kitchen table, after I’d smacked and twisted it while unloading hay out of the truck into the barn.

The saddest commentary I have ever witnessed occurred Tuesday evening while I watched a segment on a national newscast reporting that the sales of bulletproof backpacks for children have spiked. I didn’t even know there were bulletproof backpacks. However, need being the mother of invention...

This is quite difficult to believe, but according to a well-researched article in USA Today, many Millennials (those young’uns spawned between 1981 and 1996) are eschewing dating because it’s become too expensive. The article, quoting a Singles in America survey, declared that fully 30% of t…

Welp, it’s been hot. And last week I felt as if I were walking side by side with Matthew Broderick as he grunted through basic training in the film, “Biloxi Blues.”

It’s not as if I need another reason to love Queen Elizabeth, but an article in British papers this week made me want to go against all royal protocol and hug her neck.

Coming across an article featuring Nadya Suleman, the renowned Octomom who was roundly criticized for becoming pregnant with octuplets when she already had six children, I was taken aback to see that her octuplets are now 10 years old.

A few weeks ago, Paul, laden down with grocery shopping bags having done all of the week’s shopping because, evidently, I “can’t be trusted to bring home anything else than cold beer and frozen pizza with the bounding enthusiasm of a Golden Retriever”, became frustrated with trying to keep a…

After appealing to prayer warriors on FB to send thoughts and prayers to our old truck, we realized that the most compassionate decision we could make was to put it out of its misery and to let it live on by donating its V10 engine to those in need. And after a suitable mourning period of ha…

Paul is currently beginning his second week of leading a tour of historic rose gardens throughout England, and the rest of us, stateside, are following along with the daily photos he is posting on social media: Sissinghurst, Mottisfont Abbey, a lunch and wine tasting with Lord Throckmorton o…

“This is how old I am,” I thought, as I maneuvered my shopping cart around a display of flip flops and just missed an orderly line of patio umbrellas, “I remember when grocery stores only sold food.”

Driving home after a speaking engagement, it was a beautiful evening and I lowered — no one says “rolled down” anymore, have you noticed? — the windows to take advantage of the cool night air and the scent of mown fields that poured past like a green river.

“Pauuuuuuuullllllllll!” I screamed, hands on either side of my mouth, as loud as I could.

I don’t like to think of myself as one of those people who, in order to fill some soulless void within themselves, purchase new things as a distraction from what they consider to be the emptiness in their life.

You know when you’re googling “dog reincarnation” that you either are dealing with insomnia (I was), or some highly interesting, if not entertaining, events have been occurring.

I’ve always said that columnists that resort to using lists in their weekly musings are being lazy and not putting in the effort to dig deep to find something new and interesting to comment about.