The other morning, I read this article in the paper about how bad U.S. students are at geography.
Well, okay, actually I didn’t bother to read the whole article, I just read the headline.
Later that day:
Mama P.: Where is Marrakesh?
Me: What is that, like, a restaurant?
One of my favorite childhood memories was picking strawberries at Lewis Farms. It would be hot, usually, and by the end my flip-flopped feet were covered with dust and the soles stained with mushy strawberries.
I remember one summer my cousin and I picked so many that I brought home a nearly-full five-gallon bucket of them. [...]
Well, I’m over halfway through my book-a-week challenge. And that deserves some celebrating. Or at least a fun, easy read.
After all, it is summer, and the vegetable garden has taken on a life of its own and needs a bit o’ tending.
What is there to say about Dress Your Family? It’s David Sedaris. [...]
Yesterday I picked the first ripe figs from the fig tree. Aren’t they pretty?
This was, of course, after the mockingbirds had pecked apart at least a dozen.
Last year during the peak week I was harvesting a good 3-5 pounds of figs each day. It was a little intense, and I still haven’t eaten all of [...]
Let me just go ahead and say it: this was a lovely book. For some reason I also want to use the word ‘achingly’ to describe it but I’m not sure why or how.
All of the characters were so real, and so well-written and almost heartbreaking, but only in the way that real [...]
Mama P.: The speed limit’s 35 along here. It’s 35!
Me: I’m going 35.
Mama P.: Well! It should be 25.
Well, I’m not entirely sure how to begin this post. So I’m just going to go ahead and say it.
On the train the morning we arrived in Austin, I ate an expired yogurt that had been unrefrigerated. For two weeks.
Let me explain.
Two weeks earlier during the horrible, never-ending train ride to Portland we [...]
There have been only two people in my life who I’ve known to make homemade granola: my mom, and my great-aunt Suzy.
My mom’s version was one she got during her hippie days at college. It was very yummy but called for quite a bit of oil in the recipe—enough oil that the granola always left [...]
I almost stopped reading this book after the first chapter. Not because it was terrible, but because I was afraid it was going to be not-so-great, and then I would have to say something bad about it and, since Edgerton is a local, I would run into him somewhere in the future [...]
Gratuitous cute dog photo.
In case this didn’t work.
The scene: Dinner at his mom’s house. His cousins are in town. His mom changes the conversation to ‘What to do with my remains after I die.’
My guy: Well, I’ve got Dad’s ashes in my kitchen.
Me: Where in your kitchen?
My guy: In one of the kitchen cabinets.