Alabama recorded two new deaths Friday from COVID-19, and the state’s number of known cases surpassed 600 as the world grappled with the new coronavirus and the economically crippling effects of attempts to stop its spread. Read the full story
Ah spring! The daffodils are blooming, the birds are chirping, something in the house is beeping.
Happy Bissextile Year!
A few months ago, my husband and I were in the midst of some serious downsizing when he looked at me and asked, “Are we keeping the piano?”
Remember when online personality quizzes were fun? “Which Disney Princess Are You?” (I’m Jasmine). “What Would Be Your Fate in The Hunger Games?” (I would win! But only because I ran away and hid really well).
Just as there as those of us who watch the Grammys just to see who’s going to get bleeped, or the Oscars to see how low the cleavage can go, or the Golden Globes to see whom Ricky Gervais insults, there are those of us who watch the Super Bowl solely for the commercials.
Here I sit, with all the world’s collective knowledge, spanning thousands of years, at my fingertips, funneled through wires and through the air into a remarkably tiny machine balanced on my lap.
