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Ink Hands
The other Saturday morning, I was changing the toner cartridge in my home inkjet printer, and I carelessly got a smear of ink on my finger. I looked at my pointer with the long, black smudge, and was secretly pleased. I thought back over the years to the times I noticed inky stains on my hands. And why wouldn’t I be pleased? I’m a printer after all! Both of my parents were in the printing industry, as were an uncle, a cousin, and my paternal grandfather. Ink-stained hands are a badge of honor in my profession. It’s great to feel
interrupted
It’s been almost 2 years since my last Pet Peeve blog, and I’m sure you have been tossing and turning sleeplessly, wondering what else really gets under my skin. Well, wait no longer, put on your footie PJs and prepare for a blissful night of rest. I hate to be interrupted. News flash, right? I mean, really, who DOES like to be interrupted? No one that I know. And yet… Have you found yourself in a conversation, talking about a particular topic, telling someone a story, or making a thoughtful observation, only to be “talked over” by your alleged listener,
My Momma Told Me…Pay Attention to Where You Get Your Advice  Facebook is full of information, opinions, advice, and pictures of cats. It can be a humungous time suck, giving you that yucky feeling of having spent hours looking at stuff which ultimately lowers your quality as a human being. But I digress. Every now and again on social media, I come upon a gem of an idea, concept, thought or feeling that totally washes away the horrifying afterglow of seeing your 3rd grade English teacher in her bikini…50 years after she taught you. I read one of these “keepers”

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