A few years ago, I spent a week in Northern California with a group of people who were gathered together from all over the country. One afternoon, someone turned to me and asked, “Where do you live?”
The nose is a the receptacle for many objects stuffed in there by little squirts — mostly little boys who have no “couth” whatsoever. Their goal in life is to embarrass, mystify and generally gross out parents and all bystanders. The more the merrier. It’s their job and they take it seriously.
I’m often disgusted with politics and hype and silliness. You’ll find POLITICS everywhere, even in an office atmosphere, sometimes in a church atmosphere — anywhere there are people.
There have probably been times in my life that I thought that I understood “sacrifice.” There might have been times I even though I made sacrifices. Those times probably had to do with the loss of certain creature comforts, or — more than likely — a lack of material things during leaner time…
For the past two decades my body weight has fluctuated substantially, up and down, gaining and losing, in both directions. It’s nothing I’m proud of, but it’s also not something I worry too much about. My personal physician stays on my case about dropping poundage (as he should) and— save th…
For the 20 years I have written this column, I have never missed a week. Not one. No matter where I have been in the world, I have always made time to write a thousand words or so about food, travel, and family.
My wife doesn’t believe in expiration dates. Seriously, she thinks that the “use by” date on a package or carton is merely a suggestion. Last week I found a can of vegetables in the back of the pantry that had expired during the Clinton administration.
My son eats too fast. He likely acquired that habit from his old man. I don’t know from whom I inherited my speed eating. It’s nothing I’m proud of, and in social settings I try my best to slow down. Though my son has one eating speed— full fork ahead.
There are “shoe gals” out there who are addicted to buying shoes. They have dozens. Since I can’t see my feet without bending over, I’m not too much into shoes — why bother with what you can’t see. I’m a “bag gal” myself. I pack up garbage bags full of purses to give to my friends about ever…
My “aunt” Ruby (R.I.P.) lived to be 95. Her sister (my departed mother-in-law) lived to be 100. Talk about the longevity gene blooming. I hope these strong genes are prevalent in my children.
Some people are outdoors enthusiasts, some are hunters, others are fishermen. There are golfers, and skiers, and bird watchers. Some people are leg men, while others go for different parts of the anatomy. Those are all well and fine and I can identify with several of them. But, to my core, I…
William and Deborah Grote of Austin, Texas are pleased to announce the engagement and upcoming marriage of their daughter Hailey Grote to Charlie Davidson of San Antonio, Texas, son of Charles and Betty Davidson of Hernndo.
True story. Thomas St. John was the oldest of seven brothers who grew up in the small town of Brooksville around the turn of the previous century. His father was Methodist, and his mother— my great-grandmother— was Baptist. The Methodist church in Brooksville was a mile from their home on th…
Marriage will change you in more ways than one — really.
The restaurant business is a harsh mistress. She is brutal on your mental and physical health, and very demanding of your time and resources. Yet I couldn’t imagine myself doing anything else. I love what I do.
Life is full of unexpected twists and turns. One of the most unforeseen and fascinating aspects of life is how— if one lives long enough— the things that seemed so trivial or laborious in our youth wind up becoming applicable and practical in everyday life.
Most folks who have addictions are messed up with drugs (street or prescription) or alcohol — or even sex. So they tell me. I wouldn’t know anything about that last part. You do believe me, don’t you?
Why have weddings become such a hassle? Little girls are bombarded from early days by society to go for the big, complex weddings “because you deserve the best on your day of days.”
There’s something in the water around here. That’s got to be the answer. I’ve been trying to drink a lot more of it lately. Maybe that’s not a good thing. Ever heard about “getting bent outta shape?” I’ve got a finger that’s getting bent. I’ve got one bony old finger that has developed a def…
I’ll be the first to admit that as far as humor goes, I’m a bit weird. I wouldn’t go so far as to laugh at train wrecks — unless they’re really funny.
There’s a sports widow, fishing widow, “pooter” widow and “grass widow. If you don’t know what grass widow is, just your great-grandmother. It’s a divorced woman. Oh, shame!
“We don’t have your rooms, Mr. St. John.” Those are the words a tour leader never wants to hear. The words weren’t, “We don’t have your rooms ready, Mr. St. John, because housekeeping is running a little behind.” Or “We don’t have your rooms ready, Mr. St. John because the laundry is down, a…
You know you’re getting old when the holidays exhaust you before they even get here. I think it is mostly the stress of getting everybody shopped for, packages wrapped and planning that fantastic meal that all the family so looks forward to.
The internet is chock full of get-rich-quick scams. Have you read any of the spams in your email telling you about the wealth you are missing? According to the advertisements, you can make a gazillion bucks the first month working part-time. You can buy a vacation home in Hawaii, send the ki…
My 12-year-old grandson is gearing up for a BIG Christmas. This boy is an only child. I can so relate to this. I’m an only child. My dad was an only child. His mother was an only child. It was kind of a sacred family thing.
I sit and write this column at 10:15 p.m. in a one thousand-year old converted barn while 14 weary Americans have just retired for the evening after a very long and full day of eating our way through the Tuscan countryside. It is quiet in Villa il Santo, but there is still an amazing energy …
I sit and write this column at 10:15 p.m. in a one thousand-year old converted barn while 14 weary Americans have just retired for the evening after a very long and full day of eating our way through the Tuscan countryside. It is quiet in Villa il Santo, but there is still an amazing energy …
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