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It’s incredible. Exactly three weeks ago in the early hours of the morning, I was doing the exact thing I was doing this morning — listening to Jim Cantore and Stephanie Abrams warn coastal residents about a hurricane that could reach the coast as a Cat 4 storm with winds exceeding 140 mph.

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As I write this, it’s 5:30 a.m.and I’m coming off another night when sleep played hide-and-seek with me and, naturally, being discovered when it was almost time to get up.

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Yesterday after a hard day’s work, my son Jeff and I sat in a specially marked parking spot outside the Olive Garden restaurant, waiting patiently for our orders of eggplant parmigiana to arrive.

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The realization that I spend a lot of time thinking came to me the other day as I was watching one of my favorite soap operas.

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I know I spend a worrisome amount of time thinking about food — at least three times a day everyday without fail — and that doesn’t include midday or nighttime snacks.

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At about 9 a.m. Monday morning, if I had taken my blood pressure, I’m sure it would have been high enough to cause the monitor to shout DANGER.

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I am getting prepared to make a major purchase — one that is very important to me. And this time, it is imperative that I get it right.

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“I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.”

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As the result of a recent loss in my life, at age 82, I find myself passionately missing my mother.

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Like the lyrics from a Beatles song, “I get by with a little help from my friends,” and this holds so true everyday when I and my cane hobble into the office and start my day at the computer.

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I’ve been in a bit of a quandary lately, trying to find the perfect makeup to make the brown spots disappear and the wrinkles to unfold on my face.

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Thursday is my day off, and I usually spend it like any hard-working elderly, non-retired woman should — snoozing in my big recliner and watching a little TV.

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A night on the town with my friends, a new piece of jewelry or a new outfit - these are the things that could make me happy before I woke up one morning and found that I was 80 years old.

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I’m a woman in quest of speed. No, I’m not planning to replace Danica Patrick in the upcoming NASCAR season.but just like her, I’m searching for a ride.

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Here at the beach, winter has certainly made itself felt this year. My sons are still wearing shorts like they usually do year round, but they’re wearing alpaca-lined jackets over those shorts. And for the third time since Christmas, I have had to contend with icy steps and decks.

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Last week, a sudden snow storm blew into the south. As I watched snow blanket Texas, I told my son Jeff that Texas snow storms always blew into the mountains of Western North Carolina and, sure enough, this one made its way into the Carolinas.

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We sometimes veer away from the norm in our family when it comes to gift giving at Christmas —or whenever it is that the gift is given.

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A few weeks ago while surfing around on the computer, I came across an old photo of Company D Texas Rangers, Frontier Battalion, made in 1894.

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Day after tomorrow is my birthday, and considering   that I know the year I was born — 1935 — I still find it hard to believe that I will actually be 82 years old.

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Everyday, without fail, especially on the days I work, I am faced with a daunting responsibility that fills me with anguish.

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A few days ago as I was on my way home from work, something I saw made me do a double take. I was crossing the last bridge before I turned down my street.

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I have sort of a relationship going on with my iPhone — namely Siri. By the way, my Siri speaks with an elegant English accent.

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Do you ever pause on a TV channel at night when you happen to run across  those long commercials for full season episodes of  “The Carol Burnett Show”?

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Last week, Becky, the production manager at the office who in her quiet, gentle way keeps us all in line and on deadline — most of the time — brought in a bowl of grapes her husband had picked from their own vines.

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The death of Princess Diana has recently been revisited in depth due to this being the 20th anniversary of her untimely death. Likewise, a few networks have presented reenactments of the Menendez murders and the chase to capture the Unabomber.