This week marks two significant things. First, ten wonderful years with my wife. She's cuter than when I met her, I tell you.
It also marks something sad; at nearly 89 years of age, my grandfather left this earth. When I think of some of the times I spent watching TV instead of interacting with him, I wish that Elvis had been in the room with his .45 to shoot the idiot box. (he's said to have done just that in a hotel room in Vegas, I believe)
Grandpa managed to teach me a lot about love, authority, and how to drive a stick anyways. RIP, Grandpa Dixon.
ANZAC day poems. - Three poems, not in the usual order, for the service, and not from the service. Anzac Dawn service is tomorrow: I ndo not attend what has become a pagan da...
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