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Rick Ryckeley's blog

Friday the 13th

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Yesterday, looking down from the top of my ladder, I saw a black cat with big yellow eyes lying underneath and staring back up at me. Right then, I should have known things were going to go awry. Moments later, everything went dark. The Wife heard a loud THUD and ran upstairs.

The games people play

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My sister, brothers, and I spent seven adventurous years at 110 Flamingo Street. During that time we enjoyed a neighborhood full of friends to play with except Down the Street Bully Brad. Unless you consider running for your life a game, Brad never played with us.

The anti-socialite

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Back when we lived at 110 Flamingo Street, Mom entertained all the time. It was actually only once a month, but to us kids that seemed like all the time. To say she was a socialite would be as big of an understatement as BP saying, “Oops, we’ve spilled a little oil.

No good deed...

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They say that no good deed ever goes unpunished. Now I know Mrs. Newsome, my fifth-grade English teacher, already has her red pen out ready to write at the top of my paper, “Just who are they? Can you cite an example of they?”

What day is it?

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I’ll be the first to admit it’s been a long time since I’ve known what day of the week it was. And for once, the guys at the fire department won’t laugh at me because of a story. If they’re honest, they’ll admit that they lose track of days as often as I do.


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