A local fast-food emporium (which continually refuses to compensate me for all the publicity I give it) has a couple of yield signs in the parking lot. All traffic yields to pedestrians (thanks for that), and “before food” traffic yields to “after food” traffic. Makes sense. If the “after food” cars can’t go, they get stalled at the window. Then no one can go.
That leads me to Monday.
People don’t believe me when I talk about how introverted I am. Truth be told, I would just as soon hole up alone with a good book or game on most evenings. I genuinely enjoy seven-hour car rides by myself.
That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy socializing. I absolutely do. But when I am with someone, I feel responsible for their entertainment as well as my own.
Every Southern household has its own recipe for peach cobbler. They differ widely. Personally, I like a lot of peaches, a nice goopy consistency with the filling, and a crispy, sugary crust. Others may prefer a more biscuit-like pastry, or a deeper pastry level than I like. That’s fine. Some prefer to make theirs in a casserole dish in the oven, some like the Crock Pot, some go old school and use a cast-iron Dutch oven over an open fire. Everyone’s entitled to their own opinion. But we all absolutely must agree on two bits of business: it must feature peaches, and it must be a cobbler. It’s right there in the name, after all. Peach. Cobbler.
I am fascinated by the “Why” of things. The “What” is usually more important, but it is also usually self-evident. I don’t need people to explain the “What” in most instances. I ask my children, “What are you doing?” all the time, but usually I know already — either nothing at all, something that makes no sense, or something that is taking the place of what they are supposed to be doing. In other words, it’s a “Why” question in disguise.
Treason! Treason! The accusation rang loud and long in the palace of the queen, and it was the queen herself making the accusation. She was suddenly facing an uprising from the priesthood — ironic, considering they were the spokesmen for righteousness and order, which had always translated to supporting the monarch instead of bringing the monarch down. She was horrified that the people and their leaders would turn on the queen so rudely, suddenly, and ultimately with extreme violence.
As is generally the case, there are two sides to the story.
I know it’s a debated position, but I firmly hold to the view that the “moving walkway” would be called a “moving standway” if we were supposed to let the machine do all the work. Not every visitor to Hollywood Studios agrees with me. And that’s fine.
Others, though, “stand” in such a way as to impede my walking. …
