麻豆传媒AV

Surely we are living in a new age. Today is totally different from a decade ago. Almost everyday new things come out.

We woke this morning to the whisper of a fog bank, a kind of visual murmur reminding us that summer is nearly over.

I always associate my Grandma Barker with the lyrics to a song written by George Harold Sanders and Clarence Z. Kelley. For those of you who may not know this delightful ditty, here are some of the words: "I'm a little teapot, short and stout.

Every night the air covers itself with bloodand on awakening everything returns as beforeThe icy wind is following our existenceand we talk about strange dreams (from "Fourth ray of light" - Kirlian Camera) One way to write a book is to find a song w

importance of showing deference to my elders, to those in authority and most importantly, to those who held offices of influence. To fail to do so came close to being added to the list of seven deadly sins.

One of my children's funniest stories is about the time they tried to fool me with a reverse knock, knock joke. They got me to start the joke. "Knock, Knock!" "Who's there?" (I'm thinking fast) "Double '0'." They're not responding, just laughing.

The results of the Wheatland Senior Centre's activities from August 11 to August 17: Bridge: (Monday) 1st John Whitell, 2nd Chris Diemert, 3rd Basil Holyer. Bridge: (Friday) 1st Berty Lou Dreis, 2nd Andy Dumba, 3rd Basil Holyer.

I saw a female deer in my rear-view mirror. It was a case of hind sight. Do you have visions? I came close to having one today at a celebration at St Michael's Camp, Madge Lake, Saskatchewan.

It's been a week of goodbyes. While one was a final farewell, the other two were of the "until we meet again" variety. All were accompanied by mixed emotions First there was the return of two young men to their native land.

If you and I try to count suicides of family members, relatives and close friends, we soon find ourselves running out of fingers.