The son is leaving for his first year of college, and I spent his last week at home making his favorite foods. Parmesan-garlic chicken with penne pasta. Homemade meatballs. Pancakes. Bacon. A different kind of ice cream every day. (Oh wait, the ice cream was for me.) Read the full story
Back when spring was new, I kept hearing a strange tapping, tapping outside my bedroom window. It sounded like a woodpecker pecking on the side of the house, except that we have vinyl siding.
Like every other red-blooded American, I got an Instant Pot for Christmas. The Instant Pot — a new-fashioned pressure cooker — was last year’s hot toy for grownups.
Y’all, I can’t even. The New York Times has printed the word … I can’t even say it. Rhymes with “pitmole.” The closest I can come to saying that word in print is “s—hole.”
On the first day of December, I started off the morning at Anniston High School with a performance of “The Nutcracker” ballet for area schoolkids. Every year, Knox Concert Series invites hundreds of third-graders to see the ballet for free.