Sophie Coors, the Southern folk-style artist, taught my sister to blow spit bubbles. They were at some fancy seated luncheon, the kind with strict expectations for behavior - a wedding or graduation party or New Year's formal event that required Margaret's attendance, participation and compliance. Margaret was not the compliant type, especially not at that … Continue reading The solace of a Southern kitchen.
"Your blog reminds me of Julia Reed's books," a friend said to me a year or so ago. "Really?" I answered, pretending I knew what she was talking about. "Yes," she said, "The one I really think about is Ham Biscuits and Hostess Gowns, but all of her books are great. They're about the new … Continue reading Make food that tastes good.
Meteorologically speaking, I suppose a Southern thunderstorm isn't too far removed from its Midwestern prairie-sweeping cousin or New England Nor'easter: warm air/cold air tussles, all of them, that range between small misunderstandings and full-blown wars. Meterologically speaking, they're all alike, I suppose. But there's something transformative about an afternoon storm in the South, a change … Continue reading Suspended requirements.
Life, I think, is like a champagne cocktail: best enjoyed while still fizzy, sublime in its bitter sweetness. ****** In my next life, if my karmic inheritance takes me to the next level of transcendence, I will return as a Quaker, serenely imparting peace among people. If you're wondering why I don't just study up … Continue reading For the love of bitter humans.
"I swear, I'm going to post an ugly picture of myself just so everyone can see my NOT perfect life and how FAKE this all is." friend's recent Facebook entry Growing up I had a mighty struggle with the superficial prettiness required in the South. My master plan, when I graduated high school, was to … Continue reading Being real.
