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People, Politicians and Pasture Grass

The year is almost over. No, I take that back. This year is as good as over. What the hell happened to it?

That’s a stupid question. I know what happened to it.

Working, loving, living, crying, laughing, sweating…that’s what happened to it. And just like that, I’m a mere two-plus months away from being on Medicare. Geez.

In some ways, I feel as young as the college students I teach. And in others, the aches I feel are much older than 21.

But it doesn’t seem possible it’s been 65 years. Until. Until I think…

…and I’m getting off track–the “what I got out of last week’s happenings” track.

Like, the best way to get an apology is to reach out to the person you believe owes you one. And if they act like they love you, you got your apology. Move on. The words will follow. Or not.

And for political relationships to work, they must abide by the fundamental rule of interpersonal ones–and that is–don’t go to bed angry. We wouldn’t have no stinkin’ Benghazi committee then. They would have kissed and made up with Hillary about a dozen hearings ago. The only good thing (in addition to Hillary’s bounce in the polls) that came out of last week’s side show was what should have gotten the “Best Meme of the Week” award…courtesy of Occupy Democrats.

Benghazi SAlly

But, most importantly, I now know for certain that people are a lot like pasture grasses.

pasture grassed

A little nurturing tames even the wildest.

pasture grasses refined II
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