People can be so picky. They love you and your zucchini bread one day, the next, they want to kill you because your recipe left zucchini bread drippings all over their oven. So, clearly I will not be getting the James Beard award for excellence, but it’s not my fault. My mom was one of those seat-of-your-pants cooks. She just slapped stuff together and it tasted great, pretty…
A gorgeous Easter should be mandatory as a reward for all the ugly days we've had to endure! …
Every morning a small, gray bird plants himself outside my bedroom window and starts a high pitched chirp, like an avian Paul Revere warning the British are coming. His ear-splintering chirps sound like a chisel hitting a brick or a stone. I call him the Chisel Bird. I lay in bed thinking, There’s Dad. He’s come back as a bird with a chirp so loud he can wake…
My mom was a born competitor, and proof is in this cornbread story. (The other corroborating evidence is in my Six Simple Words That Can End Your Life post, where I narrowly escaped death by paring knife.)…
I love getting to know my kids friends and realizing there are no pesky serial killers or violent offenders to worry about. They’re good kids who I enjoy hanging out with too. I love them all, especially Reef, my daughter’s boyfriend, who entered sainthood the day he served as spotter — helping me pinpoint where my intestinally challenged dog had left lovely gifts on my living room rug.…
Italian women bound into a flurry of baking activity before big holidays like Easter and Christmas. Then they rush their baked goods to friends and family, as though the holiday will not happen unless every last baked good is delivered.…