I got to spend last week in California, seeing people, doing things, from Irvine up to Sacramento, and people kept trying to get me to go with them to vineyards, though I no longer imbibe. I used to and then about 25 years ago I stopped. I am capable of idiocy on my own without adding intoxication to it. And I had a two-year-old daughter and I didn’t want her to see me drunk. She and I love silliness, which is a whole other matter.
I have often heard people say the month of January lasts a year and at times that has rung true. Not this year. Welcome to the last day of January. I’m not quite sure how we got here so quickly. February begins tomorrow and it doesn’t look like time will slow down anytime soon.
Claim jumping on the Koochiching Frontier may have been more frequent than other areas because less “free land” was available, and the trees provided a quick means of making some money.
Question: I have a new driver. Can you give some advice on what a person should do if their windshield wipers quit or their car hood comes open while driving?
This year’s round of annual routine medical checks led to a new procedure involving “Simple Surgery.” Sibling brother long-ago commented regarding his own surgical procedure: “minor surgery is what someone else has.”
Question: I have seen numerous times where a bicyclist will not stop at a stop sign, if they are sharing the road with automobiles. I have seen a couple of close incidents where the bicyclist is almost hit as well. Are bicyclists under the same rules if they are sharing the road with automobiles?
I hope your January 2025 has been full of wonderful time reading whether you like cozy, curl up under a blanket reading or you have read waiting for an appointment or waiting for a child to finish practice.
For the first time in living memory, I was the only passenger in a TSA security line at a major airport — Tucson, noon on a Friday, a time you’d expect Arizonans to be heading for Nome or Juneau for a weekend of darkness, but no. I wended back and forth in the maze of barriers and the guy at the conveyor seemed happy to see me. I zipped on through and counted 15 uniformed men and women defending the country against one octogenarian liberal who’s never owned a gun, hasn’t fired an explosive in fifty years and then only a few bottle rockets, and arrived at my gate two hours early, and celebrated by buying a latte at a coffee stand that offers tables and chairs.
