The eleventh, and final, season of The Walking Dead is underway. Only three episodes in, and I’m already rehearsing my farewell speech and trying to think up ways to act like I’m okay with the end of the series. It’s been a good run, I suppose. ...

I just love the neighborhood where I live. My neighbors are a random mix of older folks, families with school-age kids, the middle-aged and at least one homeowner and family that may be transparent (I never see them but the cars appear to have been moved occasionally)...

I came to the realization a long, long time ago that I am an awkward dork, inside and out. I’ve made peace with this realization, as it appears I am helpless to change it. I have, as they say, embraced my inner dork. My outer dork won’t let me embrace it, it runs away before I can even get close. Dumb dork...

I will begin this column by making a confession. I stole something. I’m not proud of what I’ve done. The person I stole from is a good Christian man. He’s a licensed and ordained minister, teacher, writer, singer and, occasionally, a philosopher. ...

As I recently re-read my last column, as I often do, evidently because I enjoy beating myself up, I noticed it sounded a bit more...extreme than I intended. It sounded like I was so stressed out I was at the end of my rope. I’m not. I don’t even think my rope actually ends, I haven’t found the end yet, anyway...

Even reading the title of this column gives me anxiety. At this point in my life, and with this job, I have more things to do, things to remember and people to call/email/text message/facebook message than at any other point in my life. In a nutshell, I’m BUSY,BUSY,BUSY all of the time. Anxiety is a constant companion, always willing to take the reins and drive my buggy into a tree if I’m tired of driving (I’m not, I’m not tired of driving, anxiety, GO AWAY, I GOT THIS)...

Today, I am preoccupied with a mixed bag of emotions. I’m feeling homesick for the Pacific Northwest, for my sons, my grandkids and others in my family tree. But I am also filled with gratitude at the people here who have welcomed me back with so much love, particularly my artist friends...

I was just sitting here, wondering what to write a column about. As I often do, I employed the time-honored tactic of staring off into the distance. It’s a tool, not a time-waster. As I cast my mental line into the ether, hoping to hook a tasty prompt, my very-short attention span took a sharp left, guided by the sound of Tia and Nate laughing in the newsroom behind me...

I have a friend who lives in Owensburg. His name is Sam Mitchell, and I admire him greatly. He’s only 18 years old, but has the wisdom of someone much older. Sam has autism and that’s only part of what makes him so special to me. Today, you’ll notice a story about Sam on our front page. ...

I was just reflecting on how strange, surreal and satisfying (I love alliteration) coming back to Linton has been for me. Back to the newsroom I know and love, but this time with a much bigger job to do. Every place I have worked, I have found myself starting out at the bottom rung, or sometimes a rung or two up the ladder and continuing to climb until I reach the top or a rung close to the top. ...

On Tuesday, Indiana Governor Eric Holcomb announced his plans to relax state coronavirus restrictions. I feel uneasy about that, like an extra on The Walking Dead. Like it’s only a matter of time before the virus spreads anew, or one of the many variants crawls up my nose...

A little over a month ago, I was in Tacoma, Washington, jobless, purposeless and sooooooo bored. I blinked my eyes and suddenly I’m back in Linton, working (yay!) back at the Daily World and trying my hardest to keep up as the editor. It’s a lot, you guys. ...

The eternal optimist in me manifests itself in my head as an annoying squeaky little voice, much like the voices of any of the chipmunks from Alvin and the Chipmunks. If you don’t get that reference, you’re young. Put this newspaper down and go outside to get some sun, it’s better for you than listening to me, I assure you. ...

I’m back, Greene County, did you miss me? Like a streak of bad luck or a kink in your neck from sleeping on it funny, I just won’t go away and stay gone, sorry about that. I enjoyed my time in the Pacific Northwest, winding up as house manager of a seven-bedroom house in Tacoma, Washington which housed 10 adult tenants, two adult dogs who were often dyed different colors with cruelty-free vegetable dyes, three rambunctious puppies with no common sense and razor-sharp teeth and two cats, one outdoor and one indoor (my best friend Meep).. ...

So, here it is. After more than four years at the Greene County Daily World, meeting people from nearly every civic group, philanthropic organization, town council, veteran’s organization, Chamber of Commerce and school board in the land and writing about them all, I must bid you adieu...

When Sabrina Stockrahm first told me she had landed an exciting new work-from-home position, my initial reaction was pure joy for my friend, happiness that she had found employment that would give her precious time at home with her family while also helping to pay the bills...

On Saturday, Feb. 22, my teammate Keshia Buskirk picked me up at my house wayyyyyyy too early and the two of us headed to the ISU campus to meet the rest of the Greene County Popsicles: Linda Bedwell, Riley Mayfield and Matthew Hayden so we could take part in the 2020 Special Olympics Polar Plunge...

I know this is out of character, but I feel like ranting today. At the risk of sounding like the grumpy old lady on the block (which I actually am, so I get to), has anyone else over the age of 30 noticed the decline of the standard work ethic in the last 20 years?...

This week, I had the pleasure of speaking with three teachers, one elementary, one middle school and one high school, to write a story explaining what a teacher’s job looks like and how they manage to succeed in light of state requirements and new standardized testing...

Man, I love coffee. I love the smell of freshly brewed coffee, freshly-ground coffee beans, a freshly-pulled perfect shot of espresso with golden crema on top, coffee ice cream...the list goes on and on. I worked for Starbucks in Seattle from 1990 to 1995 and it ruined me for life. ...