George Will wrote for Newsweek in the late 80’s and 90’s or thereabouts and I used to look forward to his columns. Then he divorced his wife and ditched his kid with Down’s and took off with a trophy wife and he’s been a mean old man ever since.
(Quietly mentioning that I think you meant “I wish I were.”)
My grandson threw food at the dog from his high chair. The dog brought the baby kibble bits.
All depends on where you live. Lots of spring here already.
Nah, just something to Tide her over.
Little white lies—that’s what Hope Hicks called them, too, and she’s out of a job now.
Ten years is the minimum in the House, if I remember right, but it’s definitely not just two.
You lose the upper frequencies as you age, and consonants (which are made with the tongue against the teeth) are higher-pitched than vowels (which are made in the throat). So you can hear someone talking but the words sound garbled because parts of them are missing or muted. Hearing aids give the consonants back (and bird song, and who knew the neighbors had a small yappy dog, and… Love mine!)
Where’s Grandma to correct his grammar to “I wish I were…”
I saw three people walking along a major route across town this morning. One was wearing headphones. A fire truck was coming up behind them as they went to cross the street at the light, and its sirens were blowing full blast. The guy with the headphones had no idea till the other two ahead of him turned around to look at the fire engine, and I thought, dang, dude, if a driver honked their horn in warning how would you ever know? Take the dang earphones out and pay attention to your surroundings!