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The line is inevitable and irresistible (even if it's not very good), so let's get it out of the way at the top, OK?
Fifty-three rest stops dot the map along the interstate highways crisscrossing the Sunshine State, each — says the Florida Department of Transportation — strategically located to be no more than 45 minutes from its partner down the road.
Anyone looking for economic green shoots, for hints that Recovery Summer III will be superior to its lackluster predecessors, could have done worse than pop into Spartan Manor on Tuesday.
As they say in the movies, here we go again.
Timing, the saying goes, is everything. The exaggeration is ever so slight. An adequate supply of oxygen probably trumps timing. But all things being equal, we'll take timing — karmic punctuality — as the pivotal ingredient in most of life's pivotal pursuits, from humor to love to employment to real estate development.
Jessica Avalos spent Saturday night — Mother's Day Eve — on the couch in her family room flanked in cozy delight by her daughters, 11-year-old Layla Brandt and 5-year-old Shaelyn Moats. Something animated — Shaelyn picked it out; it might have been "Home on the Range" — played on the television.
You needn't travel far down the list of qualities to which well-adjusted humans rightly aspire — among them charity, kindness, determination, curiosity, cheerfulness, confidence, good humor — before you hit civility.
Nobody taught mathematics at Sligh Junior High School better than Braulio Pardo. Equipped only with a blackboard and chalk stuck in a polished metal holder, Mr. Pardo unraveled the mysteries of Pythagoras, plane geometry and rudimentary algebra, setting a firm foundation for the challenges of high school and the fearsome Scholastic Aptitude Test.
Among the forces that guide each person's destiny, serendipity should not be underestimated. Bernie Clendenin certainly doesn't.
Yes, as a matter of fact, those are horses at the Lexington Oaks entryway. Life-sized replicas, anyway. Thanks for noticing.
TRINITY You know the old saying: Everybody talks about the federal budget deficit, but nobody does anything about it.
Lucky is the fellow who has neighbors with tools to share, dry goods to borrow and advice to offer (particularly when it's provided, like circular saws and cups of sugar, only when it's requested). From the sounds of it, Joseph Verola is just that kind of go-to chap.
On a gentle Friday afternoon in the shade of moss-draped oaks that swayed with ragtime music, a couple of honchos in the assisted living business took in the picture postcard from another century and saw … not what you might expect.
We will get, in a moment, to Ricky Giles and the unfortunate (if self-inflicted) series of events that led to his abrupt separation from the Pasco High baseball team. Right now we simply say anyone who attempts to frame vulgar speech as an acceptable coaching device needs to stay away from young athletes, because the injury they sanction is wicked.
In the spirit of the morning that preceded the history-making moment, we hereby resolve that Tuesday was a good, welcome and important day for Pasco County.
After nearly 80 years of trial and occasional error, Bruce Williams at last has identified something at which he is perfectly, hopelessly, irretrievably awful.
We are wondering this morning whether they teach (or ever taught) the classics in Pasco County's public schools, because recent evidence suggests otherwise.
David Hughey Thrasher, a major in the Confederate army he became a founding father of Pasco County, receives a Southern Cross of Honor.
The writing, Bill Dennis said during his most recent campaign, is on the wall. And if that wall is a load-bearing one in a certifiably sick building, it makes the condition all the more compelling.
The wise-guy vaudevillian in me wants to begin like this: Stop me if you've heard this before.
The tireless campaigner Mike Fasano is out of the state Senate due to term limits, but now has his eye on the House seat in District 36, spreading worry between James Mathieu and Michael Kennedy.
Late today, bathed in the golden twilight the Almighty reserves for Bobby Jones' invitational tournament, the latest Master to wear the green blazer will be asked to recount how he came to golf in the first place. What, or who, motivated him?
Gathered the other day at a round table that was absurdly small for the topic laid upon it — Good Friday's enduring, tangible message in our modern, virtual iPad 3 world — a trio of theologians, thirtysomethings all, set aside their weighty stack of credentials just long enough to concede they, like their unchurched countrymen, find pleasure in Easter frills that have nothing to do with the Resurrection, the Risen Christ.
No matter what else blossoms in the seasons ahead, whether bold or bashful, inspired or insipid, sublime or ridiculous, the election to decide the successor to Cliff McDuffie as mayor of Zephyrhills already is historic.
The fire began, as disasters often do, subtly. Like a passing shower ahead of the Johnstown Flood, or the first tremor hinting at San Francisco's World Series earthquake, triggering events are obvious only in retrospect.
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