Shoes, Dogs, and Little People
Yesterday, I went to Cotton Patch Cafe with Melanie, aka, Girlfriend/Brown-Eyed Girl/Mellie/Mommel. The restaurant is sort of knock-off of Cracker Barrel–lots of fried chicken, sweet tea, and buttered rolls. They...
Author: Hurls
A Day at the Course
My son MJ has a sports media company, TDT (Third Down Thursdays–here’s a link). They’ve grown remarkably in their few years of existence. Yesterday, I accompanied him to the Byron...
Through a Child’s Eyes
When I was six, my friend Billy Myers lived up the street from me. I don’t remember much detail, but we played a lot. Long before Paw Patrol and Rescue...
Getting Old(ish)
I’m 64 now, and I’m quite sure my getting on in years experience is nothing new. A quick survey of the years. In grade school at St. Anthony’s, all my...
A Birthday of Sorts
It’s been almost a year since I began this endeavor, this thing I call Hurl’s Treehouse. I started it because I wanted to get my words out to readers. It...
Drill Team
I’ve never met anyone who said, “I had a fantastic day at the dentist!” We’ve all been there, often more than once per year. Cleanings, crowns, fillings, root canals, braces,...
Who, What, When, Where, Why? And How?
Oftentimes I just wonder “why?” I used to drive my folks nuts with my questions. Why are some cows brown and some white and some black and white? Why do...
O Spring Break, Where Art Thou?
“Any big plans for spring break, Professor Hurley?” I heard this question last week from James, an earnest young man who has lived for maybe twenty years. Short cropped brown...
Showers, Time Machines, and Jungle Rot
I’ve had several ideas to blog about (is blog a verb?), but nothing really growing deep roots. Here’s the charcuterie version. Recently, I heard a speech about how shower time...
