There is something about this Christmas that I’m not ready for. Well, make that all of Christmas. It’s as though my calendar got stuck in October and I can’t pry it free.
The 2008 Holiday Season is upon us. If you are thinking that holiday shopping will be a bit more expensive this year than it was last year, you are correct.
Don’t feel alone if you’re confused by the ramifications surrounding the City Council’s unanimous decision last month to ask the state Legislature to amend a state law that currently restricts having municipal initiatives held only during odd-year general elections.
What makes an enjoyable Christmas? Have you ever had to worry about anything beyond the question of whether or not you chose the right gifts for those important people in your lives? What if you didn’t have enough money to feed your family? What if you couldn’t give the children any present, much less the X-Box they requested or the latest Bratz doll that completes their collection?
For those of us who work on the journalism side of the newspaper endeavor, events occasionally occur that remind us that ultimately this is, in fact, a business. Of course, that fact is a daily reality for publishers, advertising representatives and business office employees. This week certainly offered a heavy dose of reality for all employees of the Kitsap Newspaper Group, and especially the Bainbridge Review.
I never understood why they called it a Christmas vacation when I was working so hard to make it “nice.”
My heyday of Christmas preparations was the Christmas after I said, “I do,” to the husband. I had forgotten to ask him how many kinfolk he had that needed wrapped presents.
When I see someone in downtown Seattle wearing camouflaged clothing, I assume one of two things. First, I imagine the person may be an off-duty member of the military or perhaps a hunter, and that wearing camouflaged clothing for such people is pretty much second nature to them, so they wear it in the city knowing full well that the camo does little to make them less visible walking down Fourth Avenue.
Road rage is an intriguing phenomenon. No doubt, we have all experienced its grip to one degree or another, whether it has emerged in a combative form such as trying to run another car into a ditch or more passively by simply muttering a curse word at the perceived offender. It seems that getting behind the steering wheel of a ton or two of rolling metal unleases the aggressor in us all.
Preservation
Council-manager
Robert Johnson sang some wicked blues tunes about the crossroads in life. I don’t know if that’s where we meet Mr. Devil-man, but I think it’s where we can learn about ourselves.
At long last, I’ve finally found something that Barack Obama and I have in common. Unlike our next president, I…
Ilse Stollar has been spending most every Monday for the last 17 years putting together food packages at Helpline House,…
