Last weekend I was frolicking in my parents’ pool with eight children and three adults. Being the cool grown-up I am, I was the only one participating in “Diving Board Games” as they are called at the Ray household. Basically, those in the pool challenge the daredevil kids (and one full-grown) to answer a question mid-jump. I had just correctly answered “EIGHT” when my brother-in-law called out the square root
I am not a hoarder. But I do hold on to random little things that may look like junk to the untrained eye. In reality, these little chachkies are actually pieces of my past. Each represent a part of my story that makes up the history of Lincee. What? You don’t have a box of old rose petals stashed away in a box that is clearly labeled “POTPOURRI PROJECT” on
In light of recent events in Charleston, I didn’t feel like posting a funny entry. Then I looked at my monthly schedule and saw that I had already written today’s post. I humbly thanked the Lord, knowing the He had planned this entry long before last night’s tragic act. I hope it makes you stop and think. A few weeks ago, I was extremely irritated with someone. Let the record
A few weeks ago, I had a no good, very bad Friday night. I wrote a TV recap, attempting to burn the midnight oil in a way that would create something both entertaining and informative. I went for an obvious joke mid-way through the recap, finished the piece and published the wondrous creation around 2:00 a.m. The next morning, I noticed I had two comments on the post. The first
