Columns & Editorials

Three Rights Make a Left

Three Rights Make a Left

Last week I was busy in my workshop listening to music as I worked when Leon Russell’s version of “If I were a Carpenter” came on. It was a version that was popular when I was in high school, and it brought back some fond memories.

Leave a Legacy of Your Own

Leave a Legacy of Your Own

You can change the world without changing the world. Individuals that share their lives with the people around them leave a legacy that spans generations. This sentence perfectly sums up, at least to me, the intent of teachers in the realm of public education.

Open Door Policy
Open Door Policy

Open Door Policy

Hello, my name is Dina and I cohabitate with the world’s most interesting formerly feral cat named Olive. While I have exhausted my voice in columns past regarding Olive’s amazing feats of glory, she’s mastered some new skills that call for a revisit of her cool cat attributes. See, Olive has grown invisible opposable thumbs. Also, she is bilingual now. But, wait these are only two of the stories we will explore in today’s episode of Kaufman County’s finest purrcast, Olive the Grrrrrreat. How did we get here, you ask? First, let’s cue the Gilligan’s Island dream sequence music and go back all the way to April of 2017. I was working a design job in Granbury, TX. Someone who’d attended an event I’d styled asked me to come and redesign 2 rooms in her home using things she had in other parts of her house and in her storage buildings. In retrospect, I think she just wanted a good spring cleaning. Three days and one broken back later, the rooms looked magazine worthy. Imagine my face when the fee we had agreed upon was paid to me in gift cards. Let’s analyze that once more. I was paid in gift cards. I was livid yet nonconfrontational yet furious yet nauseated by the thought of the confrontation. So, I left with my broken back and money to burn at DSW and IHOP. Just as I was sinking into a woeful mood, my phone rang. It was my daughter-in-law. “Do you want a cat?” she said. “I’m getting one. My sister has a whole litter. They were found out in a field. They are too skinny, and they don’t have a mom.” Sick little kittens who lost their mittens, you say? That’s all I needed to hear. I am that crazy cat lady, after all.

The Low Blows and Harrows of Macros
The Low Blows and Harrows of Macros

The Low Blows and Harrows of Macros

During my mid to late 80s reign as community college queen of both North Central Texas and Northern Virginia (I am doing my twist at the elbow wave to the masses), I took some photography classes. Now, I know there are lots of photographers in this world, especially in these modern days. I mean you no disservice. Your work is gorgeous. I cannot duplicate your results. You have to admit, however, the photography game is drastically different in this digital world. For instance, I cannot manage these complicated edits with their preset lighting downloads and their photoshopping elements. My daughter-in-law’s favorite local photographer, for example, was able to photoshop my then 2-year-old grandson’s one pic of a smiling noggin in place of approximately 722 other photos where he was in hard core scream face mode. That is talent. You could not tell there were actual boogers dripping down into his mouth as he was holding his great-grandmother’s hand while standing in a pasture. But, photography in the 80s had a different set of difficulties that photogs today don’t have to navigate. The loading of the film cartridge is a whole column unto itself. Unless you forced that narrow, tabbed end into that little slit in the winder upper thingy just perfectly, the entire 200 yards of glossy brown film would recoil like a measuring tape full of memories. You dared not remove the film unless you were in complete and total darkness, either. I recall studying apertures and lens combinations and flash mechanisms and exposures. THERE WAS MATH INVOLVED, so much math. The only part I excelled at was the development piece, probably because I was an only child, hence solo work in a dark room was my jam. I tell you about these photography elements because, as often happens in life, a word bounced across my phone the other day, eliciting a guttural response of floods of memories. The word was macro. As if I were again 18 and sitting in a classroom, I blurted out, “Oh, there’s a lens setting for that!” Nope.

Three Rights Make a Left

Three Rights Make a Left

Last week I was surfing through Netflix and came across an intriguing program. The series was called “The Future of”. It is a series that explores a lot of different subjects like: Dating, Houseplants, Gaming, Space Vacations, Cheeseburgers, Death, Fashion, Skyscrapers, Sports, Health, and Headphones. All of these are fascinating subjects, and I have watched a couple of them and look forward to seeing more. But the first one that caught my interest was about dogs.

Three Rights

Three Rights Make a Left

Late last year when we decided to move to Lone Oak, Texas, from Forney, a major consideration was availability of high-speed internet. In Forney we had gone exclusively to streaming television and cut our cost considerably. But with the move we knew that we would have to go back to satellite TV, and our internet service would probably be expensive and slow. We went back to Dish Network, and we have been happy to be able to record all of our favorite shows. However, our internet service has left a lot to be desired. We found that we could get WiFi from Cumbytel, a little local co-op that operates out of Cumby, Texas. But it isn’t really that fast, and it is very expensive.

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Mailing Address: P.O. Box 936, Forney, TX 75126
Physical Address: 201 W. Broad St., Forney, TX 75126
Phone: 972-564-3121
Fax: 972-552-3599