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Jan Galletta

Stories by Jan

My special holiday calendar, the one I date from Halloween to New Year's Eve, doesn't have any parties posted on it.

My traditional wedding anniversary card for my husband, Fred, is almost finished. Its completion comes just two weeks before we hope to start our 43rd year of married life.

My husband Fred's latest foray into computer-based entrepreneurship was such a losing effort I think it should be his last.

My younger son recently completed a house-sitting, pet-feeding stint for a couple of 60-something friends who traveled out of town.

My love/hate relationship with summer has me feeling schizophrenic these days. I'm simply more even-tempered in other seasons, my moods far less mercurial.

My saliva soon may be the springboard to uncovering some family history, maybe even some dark family secrets.

My nephew recently turned 27, and when I read over the note I'd written on his birthday card, it really made me feel like a fossil.

My love/hate relationship with technology had, of late, been leaning heavily on the latter side.

My latest computer hassle has left me railing against random hackers and reeling in embarrassment over my own electronic ignorance.

My husband, Fred, recently brought me a list he’d found on the supermarket floor. He said the handwriting resembled mine and he knew that I, a list-dependent shopper, would need my notes to keep me on task.

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