Photos From My Book Signing

It's been a long since the "seens" have graced the blog. If you've been around for awhile you'll remember that it is just a play on words that I like to use occasionally.

If you're new then you'll probably think it's a typo. Either way, as you can see from the photos, we had a fabulous time.

See my name?

Pat-a fellow classmate

The illusive Sister

Display at the library

The Poopmobile girls-Anita and Barbie

Friends from church--Myra and Patty

Patti-a fellow classmate

Books and more books

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We Heard You...Another Thought On The EBWW

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Throughout my lifetime I have become an observer of many situations and problems that would otherwise go unnoticed. One such problem is handicapped parking. Everyone knows that handicapped parking is a good idea and helps millions of folks patronize businesses that they normally wouldn't. The handicapped parking spot is great because it allows the disabled to get as close as possible to a business without actually driving inside. But, here's the problem: Once they have finished their shopping and returned to their vehicles there isn't any place for them to return the shopping cart. I'm talking about large parking lots. Most cart returns begin at least six parking spaces down from the handicapped spots. The person is forced to choose between a spot close to the door and a spot close to the cart return. Ever wonder why there are so many shopping carts at the beginning of a row and not in the return area? That might be the reason. Maybe the designers of the parking lots do...

A Story For Father's Day

Growing up on the farm on Cherry Fork Road was a lot of fun. We raised tobacco, had a HUGE garden, dabbled in the hog business and had a few cows and chickens. We had a tractor, a wagon, and a manure spreader as well as various lawn mowers, rototillers and chainsaws. My dad loved his chainsaw. I don't remember what the name brand was but it was yellow and matched his pickup truck. Throw in a Kool cigarette dangling out of his mouth and a John Deere hat perched on his head and he was ready to do some sawin'. I remember the year my father got his new chainsaw. It was Father's Day, 1974, and let me tell you, that saw was needed. A late spring thunderstorm had blown through and there were trees everywhere. Trees across the road, trees down in the yard. It was like a tornado had come through. It wasn't that long after the storm had passed when you could hear the roar and the whine of the chainsaws as neighbors up and down the road got to work clearing a path. Dad wasn't ...

Gianetta Palmer

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