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Dear Abby: My son is being deployed for 10 months. His wife and baby are coming to live with me, and I am thrilled.
75 years ago
Dear Abby: I am 59 and have a steady, good-paying job. I was married for 20 years, but divorced 11 years ago. I am set in my ways.
75 years ago
Dear Abby: I’m almost 20. I have a well-paying job and live with my mother in a small town. My issue is I don’t know how to break away from her.
Aargh! It’s time for Rusty Scupper’s Pirate Daze in Westport.
Jakob Paul first became interested in science after discovering Star Wars.
D ear Abby: Six months ago, my best friend’s fiance raped me. He is a man I’ve known for many years, and I didn’t see it coming. I became pregnant but had a miscarriage two months later. I recently had to have a hysterectomy from damage incurred from the rape and the miscarriage.
Lama Chuck Stanford, Rime Buddhist Center: Recently, several of our political leaders have disgraced themselves by sexual misconduct, accepting bribes and through other moral lapses. So, how should a politician or leader conduct him or herself?
Well, dog gone. Just when folks have begun to look out for fresh crab from Larry Thevik on the Midnight Star at the Ocean Shores Marina the recreational and commercial Dungeness crab fisheries on the southern coast of Washington will close until further notice because of elevated marine toxin levels, state shellfish managers announced. The coffee drinking groups despairingly nodded their heads in commiseration until they read more carefully that the area north of Point Chehalis, including Grays Harbor, remains open to commercial and recreational crab fishing.
Only a few spots remain for this year’s EDventure trip to the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland Ore., sponsored by Grays Harbor College’s Continuing Education department.
D ear Abby: My mom turned 60 last month, and I hosted a party at her house for friends and family. As things were winding down, I took a break from cleaning up to look over the birthday cards from well-wishers that were displayed on a living room table. Among them was a big, gorgeous card from “Cassie,” a woman around my mother’s age, who I always thought was nothing more than an acquaintance.