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Sgt. Martha Writes from Iraq

Sgt. Martha is a former student of mine and I now call her a friend. Martha and I are closer now thousands of miles apart than we ever were when we stood next to each other in the same classroom for a semester. I guess war does that to people: It binds you nearer to those you care about because every day there is the danger you will never see them alive again. Martha is somewhere in Iraq serving their country, and ours, in the effort to help build a Democracy in the Middle East.

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Women and Hypoglycemia

Last semester I had six female students in different classes who all had rather serious forms of hypoglycemia. Since I have never had any male students medically identified as hypoglycemic over 15 years of teaching, this article will focus on female hypoglycemics, though I am certain males must suffer as well.

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Making Romance

by Malaika Booker-Wright

For some women, romance does not come naturally. Therefore, initiating a romantic evening with their husbands or lovers leaves these women feeling helpless. Let me give you some advice. Don’t try this more than once.

For this type of romantic evening, the very first (and most important) thing to do is save your money. Save about six hundred dollars. However, the more money you save, the better this evening will be.

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Upside Down & Inside Out

by Nancy McDaniel

I’m at that age, “A Woman of a Certain Age” (Isn’t that what The French call middle age? Or is it semi-old age? I think we need a new term for us Boomers. Fifty-two can’t be middle age because that would mean I would live until 104. This is not likely, especially with the not-so-great genes I inherited. Besides, although I like Willard Scott quite a bit– even better when he was Ronald McDonald many years ago — I don’t like him well enough to live past 100 just to get a Smucker’s birthday salute. So if 52 is not middle age, then what is it? Certainly not golden age – what a dreadful term. Centrum calls it silver; they ask “isn’t it great to be silver?” I’d rather be platinum, I think. Maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s “going platinum.” Kind of like selling a lot of records. But not actually selling them, really just being old enough to have bought a lot of them — 45s and even 78s mostly)

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A Woman’s Guide to Manliness

Alright! I confess it! I’m Manly, dammit, and admitting to such in print is a mighty death blow to the Mask of Machismo my Male counterparts and I wear every day. In some strange flight of honesty and forthrightness (must be a testosterone imbalance), I’m prepared to offer unto you, some secrets of being a Manly. If you’re a woman, take notes. If you’re a man, please leave. This is a private conversation. We’ll wait a moment to give you a chance to hit your browser’s Back button once.

(Pause…)

(NOTE: If you’re a married or divorced woman, you’ve likely discovered these niggly truths about Manliness in spades and have no need to continue further unless you delight in rediscovering the obvious.)

Okay, then.

Let’s begin!

No Joke
Oh, and even though it’s April Fool’s Day, I promise you the revelations herein are no joke. Laugh if you must, however, if it covers the uncomfortable recognition of familiarity that is certain to follow.

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