Kathy Brasby Blog
Media at its worst
Personal assistants are a wonderful thing and, when one is built into your phone, it's a free wonderful thing, right? Let me tell you a story about that. One evening, I was busy and my hands were full. But I had my iPhone and my personal assistant, Siri, right? So...
Madness, brackets and a dollar
Because I am currently in first place in my group's March Madness bracketing, I'll reveal my system. It seems to be working as well as my granddaughter who, last year, got a long way in her brackets by picking the winners based on their mascots. Cutest won, I think. I...
Whose way?
I didn't think we were going to Cuba until two days before we boarded an airplane at Cancun and headed east. "Americans can't go to Cuba," I told our missionary host. Fortunately, he ignored me and we went. Four days were spent in Havana before we drove across the...
Why kids help stories
A good story is like a nice collection of chocolates: it's hard to have too many. In my 20's, before I had children, I hung out with my friends' kids. Kids and stories are made for each other. At age 4, Rene already loved a good story. And, lucky for me, she thought...
A cheat sheet for social media pix
Participating in social media means pictures. Photos. Readers are very visual and a post with a picture is better. I ran across this cheat sheet for social media photos and thought I would share with you. I have a lot of work to do on my social media. Maybe you, too?...
The west side of a tractor
My roots are in rural America. I revel at the whippoorwill's cry in the early morning mist. Seasons for me are planting, growing, harvest, and rest. Translation: spring, summer, fall, winter. My neighbors are people of the soil with an uncanny understanding of corn...
Keeping all the people happy
Very early in my writing career, I learned to dread Thursdays. In those days, I worked as the editor of a small weekly newspaper in a rural community that knew not only everyone's name, but how they were related to one another and who had dated in high school. Our...
Don’t say butterball
Summer softball games in the cool of the evening provided the best gathering place for a small town with limited entertainment choices. You could watch TV summer reruns, hang out at the local bar or take in the games. So we gathered in the wooden bleachers to watch...
Why I quit talking to answering machines
To understand this story, you need to know about July heat in northeast Colorado, when the temperatures would melt dashboards and western skies flexed purple and green while threatening hail. I worked at a farm implement dealership that year, in the middle of...
