tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-123895392008-05-12T05:11:36.330-07:00Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comBlogger106125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-31760953821662811372008-05-12T05:08:00.000-07:002008-05-12T05:11:36.372-07:00

Lori Borgman We have been feeding a feral cat for two years now. For a relationship built on mutual hostility, we have made remarkable progress. Some people have said that she is a cat with an attitude - capital A -- but I think they are simply dog people who don’t understand that her aloofness is not attitude, merely personality. She’s a fine looking feline, a tuxedo, all black with a white

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-88392511277614678112008-05-05T05:31:00.000-07:002008-05-05T05:33:38.574-07:00

Lori Borgman The buzz over the seductive picture of 15-year-old Miley Cyrus is a story about quitting. In the beginning, Miley Cyrus really was the good girl. She was fresh, young and wholesome, much to the delight of Disney, the bean counters who drooled over the Disney coffers and the millions of young girls who watched her popular show. But time passed and being fresh, young and wholesome

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-73667239862937687942008-04-28T11:46:00.000-07:002008-04-28T08:46:25.196-07:00

Lori Borgman It is safe to say that here in the Midwest, we take thunderstorms, tornadoes, hail, lightning strikes, droughts, blizzards, and even locust, in stride. We are reasonably comfortable with seven out of 10 Old Testament plagues. We are not people prone to panic. We are the land of extra batteries, spare flashlights, bungee cords and bright blue tarps. We’re cool. We know how to handle

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-14898964143665183072008-04-21T08:33:00.000-07:002008-04-21T05:33:20.336-07:00

Lori Borgman Time magazine reports that you can now hire personal paparazzi to follow you around like you’re some big-shot celebrity. You can pay freelance photographers to chase you, shove cameras in your face and shout intrusive personal questions. Apparently it’s becoming the next big thing for teen birthday parties and GenXers. Why should young people have all the fun? I’m wondering if it

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-58795296587896058072008-04-14T13:53:00.000-07:002008-04-14T11:56:49.111-07:00

Lori Borgman In terms of embarrassment, drafting a university honor code that discourages plagiarism, and then finding out the code itself had been plagiarized, would be right up there with walking across a commencement stage with toilet paper stuck to the heel of your shoe. Note the red faces on students at the University of Texas at San Antonio. Oh, well, at least their shoes look clean.

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-45917624574811349722008-04-07T08:29:00.001-07:002008-04-07T05:27:23.355-07:00

Lori Borgman The college kid asked if I thought she should wear a light jacket or a heavy coat the other morning. “The opposite one,” I said. It’s spring, that time of year when no matter which one you wear, you will wish you had something else. Spring is the Whack-A-Mole season. Popping up here, popping up there. A crocus here, a daffodil here, the promise of warmer days quenched by a sudden

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-14479053463231259852008-03-31T12:15:00.000-07:002008-03-31T12:21:04.829-07:00

Lori Borgman In our never-ending quest to ensure that our children are safe, protected, risk-free, germ-free and sanitary, we give a nod to gLovies, plastic gloves for children, described as a "simple yet brilliant solution to the 'don't touch that!' problem." I thought the "don't touch that" problem was solved by giving the child's hand a light rap and saying "No!" but such action is probably

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-82374365006653521432008-03-24T04:05:00.000-07:002008-03-24T04:08:56.098-07:00

Lori Borgman I believe you should hang onto a decent mechanic for the same reason you should hang onto a decent husband: It’s too much work to break in a new one. We’ve been going to Don for about eight years now, and I must say his diagnostic skills are progressing nicely. For instance, I go in with a brake problem and describe the sound to him. “It makes a chk-chk-chk-chk-chk when you press

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-74242684722600781132008-03-17T06:28:00.000-07:002008-03-17T03:28:14.932-07:00

Lori Borgman I’m not one who routinely reads the obituaries. I am never the one who startles a group by saying, “Did you hear about –“or “Wasn’t it a shame -“ I am always the one who gasps when someone else breaks the news. But I was in Missouri recently, paging through the Kansas City Star, when an obituary demanded my attention. It was the story of a husband and wife in their 90s. They had

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-12042866369870531922008-03-10T10:00:00.001-07:002008-03-09T08:58:27.200-07:00

Lori Borgman With everyone watching their calories, cholesterol, fats, carbs and proteins these days, planning a dinner party is no easy task. We have been trying to plan one for several weeks and have come to an impasse. Either we ditch the menu or lose the guests. It all started when I reminded the husband that we needed to have the Surgoods and the Fossnagels over for dinner. “

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-32660008091287552852008-03-05T08:35:00.000-08:002008-03-05T05:37:29.751-08:00

Lori Borgman For a nation of citizens who pride themselves on individuality, it’s hard to figure out why so many of us own black suitcases. It doesn’t matter where we’re going or where we’re from, chances are we’re dragging a wheeled black suitcase behind us. The little black bag is to the airline traveler what the little black dress is to the cocktail hour. The black suitcase may be the one

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-26350609352729916342008-02-25T08:09:00.000-08:002008-02-25T05:09:11.014-08:00

Lori Borgman With life growing more complicated at an accelerated pace, it is no wonder that even the simple act of waving now requires explanation. The youngest daughter and I are driving on a country road when a pick-up truck approaches. The driver waves and I wave back. It is classic rural America; a wave, the blur of a passing vehicle and a trail of dust. ““Does Dad know about this?” my

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-70891758669576770402008-02-18T08:02:00.000-08:002008-02-18T05:02:20.920-08:00

Lori Borgman There are times when you simply need to break out of the mold, raise the bar and swing from a star. You know, use real cream in your coffee instead of that non-fat stuff. End a sentence with a preposition. Leave the drive-through without waiting for your 3 cents change. Or maybe read Google’s instructions on “How to Walk Like a Diva.” What gal can’t use a new spring in her step?

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-23578941163282575682008-02-11T20:28:00.000-08:002008-02-11T17:28:32.792-08:00

Lori Borgman It is a luxury I will die without: the $18 Rachael Ray garbage bowl. Rachel Ray is the cute-as-a-button girl-next-door with the wildly successful “30-Minute Meals” shows. She also has a daytime talk show, a slug of cookbooks, cookware galore and now, her very own garbage bowl. Who knew that the pinnacle of success would be having your name attached to a garbage bowl? I’m pretty

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-31298340930721530282008-02-04T11:17:00.000-08:002008-02-04T08:50:52.246-08:00

Lori Borgman My mother once called and told me to never again write her in longhand. She said, “Your writing is atrocious, Toni.” “My name is Lori,” I said. “You ought to know that, you’re my mother.” "Well, on this card you sent it looks like Toni. And your aunt called to say she got a thank you note from your address, but it was signed by someone named Tom. She wants to know why she wasn’t

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-28089585421517910502008-01-28T08:46:00.000-08:002008-01-28T08:47:37.277-08:00

Lori Borgman Like the man says, life comes at you fast. These days a wedding isn’t over before the photographer is already showing the wedding photos. We were at a wedding recently and admired framed wedding photos of the bride and groom’s parents and grandparents displayed on a table in the foyer before we were ushered into the sanctuary. When we came out of the sanctuary, a framed 8-by-10 of

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-25892326012007916642008-01-21T14:36:00.000-08:002008-01-21T11:36:33.952-08:00

Lori Borgman The more computers do for me, the less I do for myself. Our son and his wife purchased one of those cool GPS systems for their car. They gave us a demo by slapping it on our dashboard and plugging it into the cigarette lighter. A voice prompt, along with a little yellow arrow on a small computer screen, showed exactly where to go. I want one. I could use one. Yet, if we get one,

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-25109796454235692008-01-14T05:02:00.000-08:002008-01-14T05:04:36.784-08:00

Lori Borgman My hairdresser has moved to Japan. Considering how hard it is to get a good haircut, I may follow her. Every woman knows a bad haircut costs more than the dollar amount you pay at the front counter. I have a friend who claims there are three phases to a bad haircut. Phase one: Despair. You can’t believe you just sat there and let it happen. (Been there, done that, got the bangs to

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-69445853695743953132008-01-07T05:11:00.000-08:002008-01-07T05:12:41.111-08:00

Lori Borgman Capuchin monkeys have been playing a “no-fair” game at Emory University. Researchers trained the monkeys to take a small rock and hand it to a human in exchange for a reward. If all the monkeys received the same reward, a slice of cucumber, everything was cool. If some received cucumbers and some received grapes, the monkeys screamed, "No-fair!" (although it sounded a lot more like

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-54981184093009393292007-12-31T08:49:00.000-08:002007-12-31T05:49:54.957-08:00

Lori Borgman You missed one. Yes, you. You missed a gift. I know, you put the tree away, the menorah back on the shelf and vacuumed up the pine needles, but I’m telling you that you missed one. And it’s a big one, too. You’ve never had one exactly like this one. Oh you may have had one that looked similar, but there’s no way it could have been an exact duplicate. Is it your size? Yes and no.

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-43006418387652938292007-12-23T15:14:00.000-08:002007-12-23T15:16:37.976-08:00

Lori Borgman True story: Two 3-year-old boys arrived early at preschool and began playing when my friend heard what sounded like an argument. They came to her holding the baby Jesus from a crèche the children were allowed to play with. The first boy said, “Who is this?” “Well, it’s baby Jesus,” the teacher said. The other little boy puckered up, started to cry and said, ”I thought it was baby

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-38652445440150717852007-12-17T08:35:00.000-08:002007-12-17T08:37:12.307-08:00

Lori Borgman I struggle with poor elf-esteem at holiday time. Blame it on the Christmas that the dog attacked my Susie Smart doll. Or the year I realized Santa smelled a lot like Aqua Velva and my Uncle Ron. Or the gross commercialization of a holy day. My elf-esteem plummets with predictability each November. The grocery store yanks down the bittersweet and tosses out the pumpkins before the

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-18397340026908946502007-12-11T10:52:00.000-08:002007-12-16T16:50:16.127-08:00

Lori Borgman I know it is the season of good cheer, but I can’t get a little girl named TaJanay Bailey off my mind. A lot of people can’t. She was a brown-eyed Indianapolis toddler that should have been watching Sesame Street and naming stuffed animals. She was beaten to death, allegedly, by her mother and her mother’s live-in boyfriend. They are charged with beating her, smacking her,

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-30227099428827733272007-12-04T06:36:00.000-08:002007-12-04T06:38:07.653-08:00

Lori Borgman It may not be long before I find myself applying for membership in the meat cutters union. I have been getting phone calls from the newly married daughter with some regularity between 5 and 7 several evenings a week. There’s always something you forget to tell them when you launch them, isn’t there? I thought I’d covered the bases by explaining the power of compounded interest,

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12389539.post-6164993184636128082007-11-28T05:49:00.000-08:002007-11-28T05:50:19.296-08:00

Lori Borgman Just because I’m winking at you doesn’t mean I think you’re cute. It means I have a new contact lens. That’s right. Just one. Who can afford two? Putting kids through college isn’t cheap. I finally got fed up with hunting down glasses each time I wanted to read something. One day, I thought, what I really need is to shove my reading glasses right into my eyes. Then it dawned on

Lori B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/06787849167256307074noreply@blogger.com