I love drive around town with my grandkids and gaze at Christmas lights. They love to squeal from the backseat, ”Look Woo Woo, look at that one!" Personally, I prefer those lights that blink in unison with Christmas music playing on the front porch. Now that takes skill and probably some sort of engineering degree. Probably an electrician's license, too.
The latest decorating craze seems to be blow-up decorations. They blew in like a storm, everyone wanted inflatable Christmas paraphernalia in their yard. But I think they're going out of style just as quickly as they became in vogue.
It's that time of year when something magic happens. We call it the Christmas Spirit, and it touches young and old in different ways. Houses start to sparkle and shine, draped in garlands of lights and decorations galore.
I make it a game and try to guess what kind of family lives in those beautifully decorated houses.
Every year about this time I start to get butterflies in my stomach. I'm lucky enough to be the person who is the Specialty Unit Director for the mighty Krewe of Centaur's Mardi Gras Parade. It's a huge, huge undertaking. I get very excited when a talented marching band says yes, they'll march with Centaur. Or when I get a creative idea that I think the crowds that attend the parade will love.
School was out and there I was at McDonald's letting my grandchildren play in the playground. There was a young family there with four young boys so wild the parents couldn't keep up with them.
The toddler kept coming by offering up his fat little hand and wiggling his fingers, begging for french fries. His parents would come by and gather him up and apologize. But there was something not quite right about this situation.
The 60s were the era of the garage band. Everybody had a band in their garage. Some were great, and others not so much. But for sure Shreveport-Bossier was the birth place of a hundred different local bands, and we thought they were all wonderful!
Grab your lawn chairs and prepare to head north, Shreveporters. The third annual Blanchard Music Festival is being held on Saturday, October 20.
The festival raises money for a local charitable cause. This year, the money raised will be donated to the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure -- specifically, a local Blanchard woman who is suffering from breast cancer.
A girlfriend and myself were asked to decorate for a Ladies Luncheon at the Church. Naturally, there was little if any budget. We wanted something beautiful, so we decided on crepe myrtles. They're cheap and plentiful.
When eating at a Chinese Restaurant, most people look forward to the fortune cookie. They think they're fun. They even believe they're good luck. They take the lucky numbers on the back of the fortune and play them in the lottery. But me? Well, I get the stupidest fortunes of them all.
I decided to do something special with my grandson today. School has started already and he and I didn't get a chance to do anything he considered special this summer. So here I am at Splash Kingdom, sitting under a shade pavilion with sweat dripping off the end of my nose.
At one point in our lives, we lived on a 87-acre farm near Lake Bisteneau. As all farmers know, farm work never ends. One hot summer day, my husband and our 10-year-old son were digging post holes for some new fencing. My husband was operating the tractor and my son was manning the post hole digger. Hole after hole, they made their way across the pasture.
It was a typical Louisiana Day: a zillion degrees, high humidity and absolutely no shade. That's when it hit! My husband fell to his knees with full-fledged heat stroke.
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