- Michele Bender
MICHELE BENDER | Cat-titude creates cat-tastrophes
I often receive feedback from readers. In 2011, my friend Rick said he read my Christmas column to his kids, and they were concerned about the fate of Miss Kitty.
MICHELE M. BENDER | Every elf for himself
I’ve never been much of a shopper, even at Christmas. I’m certainly not one who’d stand in an icy, dark parking lot at 4 a.m. with some bunch of wingnuts waiting to purchase a Cabbage Patch doll.
MICHELE BENDER | It’s hard to zest a plastic lemon
At Thanksgiving, we count our blessings and express gratitude. You readers can be thankful that I’ve never invited you to dinner.
Some folks have eaten at my house and gone on to live healthy, normal lives. Others, however, tell frightening tales of grisly inedibility. Savory and usually recognizable holiday dishes have emerged looking like weasel intestines and tasting worse.
MICHELE BENDER | Let’s see a big smile
I confess! I’m a “floss-aholic.” I buy flosser pics (little plastic pics with floss stretched on one end) and keep them in the drawer beside me. I floss after eating anything.
MICHELE M. BENDER | Reunion memories by light of dashboard
Join us,” the invitation read, “at the 45th Reunion of the Class of 1967.”
Forty-five years since high school? How did that happen?
MICHELE BENDER | Taking a dip in the gene pool
My decomposition continues. In June, I became the proud owner of a hearing aid.
MICHELE BENDER | Scouting for happy campers
My nest has temporarily emptied – not that it’s ever been fully occupied.
Magic summer batting 1.000
I deserve a magical summer.
Summers 2010 and ’11 really “Hoovered” (or, more expensively, “Orecked” or “Dysoned”).
MICHELE BENDER | Licorice speaks about owner’s obedience training
I watched excitedly as Joe’s truck backed down the driveway.
As soon as the truck turned the corner, I scrambled right over to Michele’s computer and pressed the “on” button with my nose.
By now, you’ve probably noticed – I’m a dog.
MICHELE M. BENDER | Something fishy’s going on around here
At age 6, Mom introduced me to the concept of Lent. My kid reaction was typical. “I hafta give up WHAT? For HOW LONG?”
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