David Anderson

One of our grandsons (he’s 8) is very, very good at those kinds of games where cards picturing this or that must be turned over to form a matched pair.

I wonder how he – or you – would do with these. Which of the following match? (A) a slave who becomes a king; (B) an overbearing fool who prospers; (C) a bitter woman who finally gets a husband; (D) a servant girl when she ousts her queen.

Automated email/text alert from BrickHouse Security to both the mobile phones and computers of the W.T.K. in an undisclosed but highly secured location in the Orient:

“Jesus is on the move.”

There’s a story that’s begun on Facebook about Walmart’s missing Jesus. Seems all the nativity sets were minus the infant.

December 5, 2014 is evidently the day to celebrate by lifting your glass, as it is the 81st anniversary of the end of “our nation’s failed experiment with alcohol prohibition.”

If you’d like to drink up to that, you can join in here.

We called him Frosty the Fairytale Facsimile, our token snowman.

No corncob pipe, just a stick. There were no carrots in the vegetable bin, so a stick served for the nose too. No rolling snowballs around in the yard. No snowman bigger and better than the neighbor’s. A scraped and mounded pile of snow served just as well in which to stick the obligatory twigs. No boots, no buttons, no broom.

Of all days for our annual family outing in search for the perfect Christmas tree, it was during a blinding snowstorm.

Ok, half-an-inch of snowfall doesn’t qualify as a storm but the sun shining on the snow was indeed blinding. Though not enough to make a snowman, the snow in the winter wonderland almost-foothills of the Cascades had flocked all the U-cut Grand Firs, Douglas Firs, and Charlie Brown trees too.

A thief posing as fisherman? That’s an insult.

“Police seek South Hill pharmacy robber wearing fisherman’s hat,” blazed the banner this past Thanksgiving-eve.

Not ‘cowboy hat,’ or ‘stocking hat,’ or ‘baseball hat.’

Fisherman’s hat.