Latest Columns

I’m assuming that George W. Crane, Ph.D. and M.D., is no longer gracing our planet and that’s a good thing as I’d have to slap and sterilize him in one fell swoop. Of course, it was a different time in 1939, but Dr. George of Northwestern University created a “Marital Rating Scale” that is n…

During a Zoom call with Paul to his family, the conversational ball was being bandied about so frequently that attempting to keep up was nearly futile. Non-sequiturs in and out of subjects were the norm but somehow the topic of babysitting came up and everyone had a story to share.

Perhaps it is because both my grandfathers were dead long before I was born, or ever a glimmer in anyone’s eye, but I do feel a slight twinge of envy when I observe that loving bond between Grandpas, Opas, or Papas and their grandchildren.

Let me make this clear: I’m a live and let live sorta gal — to the point where I will scoop a drowning Japanese beetle out of the water trough or step in and break up an assault by a hornet upon a horse fly. And I despise horse flies. I don’t hesitate to kill them with a deft swat of my hand…

Man alive, just when I was feeling at my most world-weary, battered over daily political theater, chalking up yet another Covid-related death in our small town while despairing over those who still refuse to wear masks in public places, comes a story that hit me right in the “feels.”

Dear Aunty Pam: I’ve been really depressed lately over losing some friends on Facebook and personally. I won’t tell you what political party I am but even when I post a very even-keeled comment, I feel like I get attacked by people who I thought were my friends, or at least could exercise so…

“Did you feel it??” friends were shrieking, on social media, email and through the phone. “Earthquake!”

Each weekend Paul and I have turned into a regular Ma and Pa Kettle, setting off on Sunday excursions to get off the farm for a change of scenery. If we remain in South Carolina, we search for that rarest of venues come noon: a restaurant with outdoor seating and a staff who protects themsel…

Since writing about Carl the toad, I have received a flood of inquiries asking if I still see him on my way to the barn in the morning, how he is weathering the heat and if Steve the snake has shown up.

Dear Aunty Pam: I’ve discovered I don’t really like kids very much. The problem is, they’re mine! With the virus going on and schools being closed, my husband and I decided as he makes more money than I do, I would give up my job to stay home and home school. I’ve got to be honest, our three…

Dear Aunty Pam: Why is it that when women are hormonal, and you know for a fact they’re hormonal (time of the month), they get so angry when you tell them they’re being hormonal? Confused

If there’s one thing that gives any woman of “a certain age” a little boost, it’s being asked to show identification when buying beer at a mini-mart. Especially if you conveniently allow yourself to forget that it’s mandatory for any customer, and, no, frankly, you don’t appear to be under 21.

The last few days have been something like an episode of ‘Wild Kingdom’ here at the Funny Farm. Or, to be more precise, shall I say, “Mild Kingdom,” as there’s been no Rhino ear- tagging by the hapless Jim, his weekly suicide mission dictated by Marlin Perkins, from the comfort of a voice-ov…

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