The Mormon Tabernacle Bomb Scare
WHEN I WENT TO SEE MY DOCTOR yesterday I expected to do most of the talking.
“This feels good, that doesn’t feel good, I’m taking my meds and we’ve been on vacation.”
“I’ve been there.”
WHEN I WENT TO SEE MY DOCTOR yesterday I expected to do most of the talking.
“This feels good, that doesn’t feel good, I’m taking my meds and we’ve been on vacation.”
“I’ve been there.”
ONE OF THE PROBLEMS with attending a conference in a large hotel is the food. When they are trying to feed lunch or dinner to hundreds of people at a time it can get problematic almost instantaneously.
Trying to figure out a menu that people will enjoy, without accidentally poisoning a few or having Table 43 slip into anaphylactic shock from gluten sensitivity, can be a culinary nightmare.
AS I LOOKED OUT MY WINDOW I saw mountains that still had snow crowning their peaks. The sky was streaked with clouds turning red and orange in the dusk. That sure ain’t Terre Haute (That’s French for, “Place without mountains).