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It’s the day before Thanksgiving and most of us have planned our…
You’re probably familiar with the old saying, “Too many cooks spoil the…
Well, it’s finally over.Just when we thought it would never end, wham…
On the last Friday of October, 2004, four years ago,I wrote the…
One hundred years ago, in October of 1908, Democratic nominee William Jennings…
For years, I heard my father saying “What we need is a…
No ghoulish masks, no rattling skeletons, no mysterious moans and groans, no…
Did fall come sneaking around the corner far too fast and with little warning? It seems to me that one day we were running around in shorts and T-shirts, hearing talk of record temperatures in a few spots. The very next day, we’re shivering in our sweatshirts and searching for those heavy sweaters we tucked away only a couple of weeks ago.
At a recent luncheon with friends, the conversation turned to “things I wish I’d done differently.” This was triggered primarily by one woman’s lament that she’d waited far too long to take up painting, which is now her passion and which absorbs hours of her time every day.
Every year, at about this time, you can expect the inevitable zucchini column. For reasons unclear to me, I always feel compelled to write about the many possible uses for the excess zucchini that is typically part of the bounty of late summer/early fall.
If I were to ask you what you consider to be the most important job in the country, what would you answer? President? CEO of any of our huge major industries? Secretary of State, or Treasury? The general in charge of our everlasting war in Iraq?
The first time I went to Vienna, more than 20 years ago, I went with my stepdaughter, who lives there, to a local market to do her daily shopping. At that time, there were no “supermarkets,” such as Safeway, Albertson’s, PayLess, etc., and most women, working or not, stopped in at local shops for foodstuffs on a daily basis.
When the weather cooperates, there is nothing more fun than a small…
It gets harder and harder to find good news these days. From e-coli outbreaks, bear attacks, murder trials, food and fuel prices, to a freak fatal stabbing of an American tourist in Beijing just after the uplifting opening of the Olympic Games, I can find little to be joyful about as I scan the newspapers or listen to television newscasts.
One of our neighbors was chatting over the back fence about friends who were coming for dinner. She was trying to come up with a menu, which surprised me because she’s an excellent cook and I figured she’d have dozens of possibilities. Not so, because, as she went on to explain, the husband of the couple who were coming that evening was one of those tiresome folk who have a list longer than your arm of “I don’t eat that; I don’t like that; I never touch things like that.”
What’s in your bucket ?
“Everything is late this year.”
One thing I’ve learned over the years of writing this column is…
When was the last time you found yourself in the middle of a rhubarb?
After the Father’s Day column about digging geoducks with my Dad, I had several e-mails asking for more information about both digging and cooking ’ducks, as well as a few conversations with acquaintances also curious about ’duck digging.
Belly fat; if you have it, you could be in for anything from diabetes to dementia to dysfunction. You know the dysfunction I’m talking about, the dreaded ED all those TV ads go on and on about. Belly fat is the current hot health mania, and not just in this country.
I’ve been thinking a lot during the past few days about gifts I’d like to give my Dad for Father’s Day. Most of all, however, I wish I could give my Dad the one thing I know would make him happier than anything else, the one thing that could bring back that gleam in his eye and make him forget that he’s old and feeble now. I wish I had the power to give him back my Mom, Joetta, the love of his life for more than 70 years.
Well, what a surprise it was to read in one of those “other” papers that Barack Obama is a smoker.
Spam is making headlines again. No, not the unwelcome flow of useless input that constantly pops into your computer; the other Spam, the pink meaty stuff that comes in a can.
It's last Friday morning as I’m writing this; you remember last Friday morning, don’t you?
“Oh, nuts; salmon again? Why can’t we have something else once in awhile, maybe hot dogs or a hamburger.”
The first time I ever remember missing my mother was about a week after she had deposited me and my paraphernalia in a dorm room, said goodbye, and left me to begin my first year at college.
We’ve all heard to the point of tiresome the old saying, “When…
It used to be fairly easy to know if you’d sinned or…