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I have a confession to make. You know those Progressive Insurance commercials with Dr. Rick about becoming your parents? They are true — every last one of them.

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Returning to my hometown for our annual sojourn, like our family did for the New Year’s holiday, is always a trip back in time. Not because my parents still own and operate an appliance whose sole purpose is to rewind VHS tapes in an age when streaming is all the rage — that’s a topic for a …

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Every once in a while, it’s nice to be reminded of our humanity. As humans, we are free to experience those cringeworthy, “I-might-be-the-only-person-on-the-planet-who-this-happens-to” feelings when we make a belly-busting blunder and an embarrassing gaff. I like to refer to these such momen…

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One of the best things about this job is that I learn something new each and every day. This week — thanks to several loyal and oftentimes disgruntled State Journal readers — I discovered I may as well have been living under a rock for the past few months and not as hip to the political cult…

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When it comes to fashion sense, I have what most folks would call “little to none.” But that hasn’t kept me from noticing the disparity between men’s and women’s clothing and the God awful “fashion” that has recently taken root on store hangers.

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Everyone has heard of bucket lists — those inventories folks make of places they want to visit, goals they want to accomplish and things they want to experience before they kick the proverbial bucket.

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Sprouting gray hairs, resistance to change and becoming critical of younger generations are telltale signs of aging. But there are also subtle clues that indicate you may not be quite as hip with the times as you think you are.

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A few months back when we upgraded our cellphones, my husband and I took the plunge and got our two youngest their first phones. They were on the cusp of turning 16 and 13 and we figured we had held off for as long as we could.

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Without fail I am always delighted to see the welcome to Kentucky sign, especially when we are driving home from visiting family in Maryland, because it means we are back in a place where we treat others with kindness.

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From my days of heaving the morning edition onto my neighbors’ porches to the position I hold now, one of the few ideals that has stood the test of time is that newspapers — unlike any other form of media — have a magical power to connect people.

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Whether it’s keeping the same pregame rituals or wearing the same clothes as the last win, athletes have some of the quirkiest superstitions.

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They say actions speak louder than words, but our voices speak volumes about us. And no, I am not talking about the voices rattling around in my head, but rather the one that comes out of my mouth.

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This column started innocently enough. I was listening to a segment on “The Anna and Raven Show” — a radio program on Frankfort’s newest station, Pop Radio 93.5 FM — called “That’s All I Need to Know About You” and decided to borrow the idea.

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One minute you are talking to someone and then bam out of the blue you can’t remember the next simple word or phrase, even though it’s on the tip of your tongue, and desperately scramble to convey what you mean. Those dumbfounded moments are called brain farts.

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Growing up our family frequented the same local restaurant nearly every Friday night during the colder months. While my parents were distracted playing Keno and my brother obsessively plunked quarters into the Ms. Pac-Man machine, I, a self-professed word nerd, was captivated by the games on…

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It’s probably a good thing that parents conveniently forget that the chubby, pinchable-cheeked toddlers who say the darnedest things will eventually become moody teenagers who despite owning an extensive vocabulary choose to speak in grunts and mumbles.

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You might think I’m crazy, but it happened when The Cars’ 1984 hit came on the car radio while I was driving with our daughter. After trying to describe the music video of “You Might Think,” I came to the realization that my 80s and 90s music is what my parents' 50s and 60s music was to me.

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It dawned on me Monday after glimpsing a school bus driving down Versailles Road that, thanks to COVID-19, it’s been a while since I have noticed public school transportation in motion. Seeing that bus flashed me back 10 years ago to the day when our two elementary-age sons took their shorte…

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Over the past few months we have all gotten used to the new normal. For our family, that means supporting local restaurants by ordering takeout (hence the extra pounds we are all carrying into the joyous holiday season) and limiting our contacts at the grocery store by using Kroger ClickList.

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Regardless of whether there is a holiday or special occasion, consuming alcohol is just something my family does together. Adults drinking beer like it’s water was never something I questioned as a kid.

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In order to avoid what can quickly escalate into charged political debates, we favor disputing less pressing matters in our household — such as whether the toilet paper should go over or under in the holder.

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We opted for a staycation (stay+vacation) during Franklin County Schools’ fall break earlier this month because we couldn’t afford to go glamping (glamorous+camping). It was over the course of the week when I began to notice how often we use portmanteaus in our everyday slanguage (slang+language).

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You can learn a lot about a person from simply sitting behind them in traffic. From Bible verses to political pitches and favorite sports teams, a lot of folks make their opinions known through the stickers plastered to their vehicles.

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Kudos to folks like my mom whose kitchens are organized with a place for everything and everything in its place. My family does not fall into this camp.

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Though hard to believe, September is here and pretty soon we’ll be trading our flip-flops for boots, shorts for jeans and tank tops for flannels. It’s also time for the store shelves to become en-“gourd”-ged with pumpkin spice products.

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