Most kids were afraid of the imaginary monster under the bed. Not me. I was terrified of dogs. That may come as a surprise to some of you since you know how much I love dogs. Like many fears, it started with a childhood experience.

The term “hair pony” has a special place in my heart. Ever heard of it? Chances are you have them in your home.
A hair pony is any kind of hair accessory. My daughter Sara came up with that phrase when she was a little girl. She confused the term pony tail with the band that held her hair in the pony tail. She absolutely loved having her hair fixed. Me, not so much.

Most fishy tales are probably tall tales about the one that got away. Mine are just the opposite in that I have never had any luck with fish in any capacity.
For instance, the last time I went fishing, I fell into Bull Creek. That wonderful experience is in my story, “In the Creek.”
My woeful fish tales started at a very young age. You see, my mother always had a fish tank.

I absolutely love colors. That’s why I paint so often.
Let me clarify that: I only paint walls.
If you have read any of my previous articles, you know I don’t have any artistic abilities — at all. I even struggle to do a paint by number correctly.

Have you ever heard the excuse, “The dog ate my homework?” Or instead, maybe I should ask if you’ve had the chance to actually use it?
Let me tell you, my Mamaw Jo was quite the baker. She even took a course in cake decorating. Naturally, she did very well. I enjoyed watching her craft roses out of icing since I had always wondered how that was done. If I ever tried to make one, it would have resembled a melted beehive.