Pam Stone

Dear Aunty Pam: Somehow, between my husband and me, we have created a gorgeous son. “Bob” is now 14 and we don’t know how we got so lucky. He’s a great student, ambitious, volunteers coaching a youth baseball league, is active in our church, just an all around great kid.

Not having children, I missed that whole, “Just wait till you have kids!” of which my mother warned when I was a mouthy teenager. I’ve certainly had very disobedient cats (“STOP scratching the sofa!!”) and dogs, who, besides pretending they can’t hear us outside, are really quite good and on…

Dear Aunty Pam: How come women are so dadgum hard to please? Every time I think I meet a good one after a few months, they start nagging if I have a couple of beers to relax or want to take a nap after working hard all week instead of going to Walmart with them.

“Pizza in the oven?” I asked, coming in from the barn.

Dear Aunty Pam: I’m middle-aged and kind of feel like life has passed me by. When I look around at my friends they all seem to be doing something, going somewhere, on hiking trips or cruises and they all seem to have an all-important “hobby,” or passion, in their lives: tennis, golf, mentoring.

There’s a certain benefit to going through life blissfully ignorant of many things, I find. However, that seems to only work well when I’m in control over what I do and don’t want to know. For example, if I make the choice not to watch the news for a couple of nights and read headlines inste…

Here we are in mid-December and while I had planned to write about the upcoming holidays we do have a historic political earthquake underway with the impeachment hearings.

This is the time of year owing to its absence of mosquitoes and deer flies that Paul and I embark into the woods behind our house in order to clean up and bush hog the bridle path that meanders along a lovely half-mile loop.

Dear Aunty Pam: If my husband gives me one more “gift set” of perfume or lotions for Christmas I’m going to scream. He gives me this stuff every year and every year I never even open it. I don’t even wear perfume!! I feel like he’s putting absolutely no thought whatsoever in what I might lik…

My girlfriend, Sharon, proclaimed via Messenger to the rest of us salivaters as we awaited the result of her latest culinary creation that she was pretty sure the Fireball pumpkin pie she was baking would prevent her from ever going back to Libby’s.

Dear Aunty Pam: I have just returned from having the annual Thanksgiving Dinner at my parents’ house and I’m so angry I decided I was going to write to you as soon as I got home.

One of the things intrinsically southern are roadside stands. In our neighborhood, we count down the days each summer until the Hyders begin harvesting and selling their peaches. Different varieties ripen at different times, creating the ebb and flow of nature’s offerings: Fire Prince, Summe…

Dear Aunty Pam: I’ve been married to my husband for 17 years. It feels a lot longer because we’re just not getting along. We hardly talk. He comes home, sits down in the recliner, turns on the tv and pretty much just tunes me out. I’m a stay at home mom with three kids younger than 15 and I …

I write this at 30,000 feet, “lucky” enough to have grabbed a seat on a last-minute flight to Tampa to go look at another stupid horse.

When I hosted my radio show a few years ago a favorite segment was to keep track of what the world’s population searched for most often on the internet that particular day. Sometimes this involved callers phoning in to give their idea of the beginning of a funny question, for example, ”How d…

Having determined by poll (my own, burrrrp) that once again, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups are the most popular and requested Halloween candy among children (and those who behave like children), I was forced to eat the trough of kale chips I’d purchased and turned my attention toward perusing t…