"This could be her last Christmas," my daughter said, speaking about the dog -- one of our dogs -- last Christmas, in 2020, the first pandemic Christmas. Another of our dogs had died earlier in the year, in mid-March before everything shut down. He, the one who died, and she, the one who remained behind, … Continue reading Thoughts go astray.
She arrived at the door with a big paper grocery sack, handed off the goods, and left promptly, knowing full well what life was like with a toddler and a new baby at home. In the grocery sack were three Ziploc bags: Wide noodles; sauce; chopped Romaine (freshly chopped from a real head of lettuce, … Continue reading Something sentimental.
(Originally posted with the title, "The Moon Is Like China," on August 23, 2014. The version below is a revision and, therefore, quite a bit different from the original.) One day, at some point in our childhood, my sister and I were riding in the car, and my sister, staring out the window, said, apropos … Continue reading Something recycled.
It's Saturday; let's not make this complicated. We'll start with some (possibly boring) background, hit the main point, and then get on with recipes and menu suggestions, the way Saturdays used to go around here. Fair enough? OK: At the market this morning, I went first to the butter and egg man (too late, eggs … Continue reading Something predictable.
Let's start in a silly place and take it from there: Remember that scene in the movie Forrest Gump where (when?) Bubba talks about shrimp? "Anyway, like I was sayin', shrimp is the fruit of the sea. You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it. [There's] shrimp-kabobs, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo. … Continue reading Theme and variations.
Here's what I know about writing fiction: it's harder than you might think. Last summer when I hit a dry spell working on the memoir/essay/cookbook project I started, I decided maybe I'd take the hint offered by a writer friend and try my hand at fiction. What she'd actually said over lunch, journalist speaking to … Continue reading Southern storyteller syndrome
So here's something you might have noticed: the characters in those delicious coming-of-age stories, the one that are always all the rage? They're never a day past 25 (if that). The over-30-and-40-something people? They've already come of age. They're full-grown, and their angst-of-now stories are called mid-life crises. Our stories, I mean, not theirs. Mine, … Continue reading Riding through the crazies.
I used to think it was just me. (I know, poor grammar. Blah, blah.) Anyway, I used to think I was the only one, the sole outlier who, even when given ample time to write a speech, etc., would do absolutely anything to avoid getting started. Surely I was the only one stupid enough to … Continue reading Please, box me in.