We’re the lucky ones; we live here

As I think ahead to 2024, I can’t help but feel so lucky to live here, in these mountains. 

This must be the place: Ode to Anna Marie, ode to the kids of Smith Street (and beyond)

Stepping outside the small log cabin, I took a moment to collect my thoughts. Vast farm fields and ancient dirt in the rural countryside outside of Goldsboro, the cool air of an impending fall was felt with a sense of relief in a place where heat and humidity reign supreme. 

Find Your Happy

Figuring out life is hard. Watching everyone around you figure it out at a faster rate is even harder. I know that everyone is on their own timeline, but it still feels like getting left behind.

Take the bait, or get more sleep?

I can hear my son rolling around upstairs.

It’s time to re-program pop culture’s storyline

Pop culture wants to kill us. At the very least, it wants to make us miserable, to ensure that from an early age we are well on our way to a lifetime of chronic disappointment.

This must be the place: ‘Either way I wonder sometimes about the outcome of a still verdictless life’

With my 38th birthday right around the corner, I went on a first date last week. It seemed to go well enough that we met back up the very next night to continue our enjoyable conversation from the previous rendezvous. 

Important lessons from time spent with my dog

It’s been another hard news week. It seems like that’s becoming the norm in modern American society. No matter which news outlet you favor, there are a slew of heartbreaking or alarming stories. Even if you simply pop on your phone to get directions or check your bank account, it’s hard to avoid the headlines. 

Be The Artist of Your Life

By Sabrina Matheny • Rumble Contributor | I was visiting the nearby town of Shepherdstown, Virginia yesterday when a zealous young fellow around the age of 5 approached me with an offer that I could not refuse:  he would draw anything I requested.

There’s more to life than politics — amen to that

I was blasting classic Rolling Stones in my truck yesterday at a few minutes before 5 p.m. when the phone rang. I did not recognize the number so debated whether to answer what was likely a junk call from someone asking me about my car warranty or — one I’ve been getting of late — someone trying to sell me a vacation package with a particular hotel chain. The caller ID said it was coming from Greensboro.

This must be the place: Lace up the running shoes, head out the door and get after it

As of yesterday, Monday, Nov. 28, I’ve run 2,525 days in a row. I hadn’t checked in on “the streak” in a while, but was curious at where it stood after coming across a 2021 article for Outside magazine, titled “The Minds and Habits of Master Streakers.”

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