Good morning, and welcome back to school, folks! No, I’m obviously not Mr. Beaverhausen. My name is Ms. Wentz, and I’m substituting for Mr. Beaverhausen for a bit, as he and his wife move here from Boston and get acclimated to our please-just-shoot-me heat and this summer’s entertaining monsoons. No, I have no idea what he looks like, darlin’, but it can’t be any worse than I look today, having worked for a week now in this room with the air-conditioning permanently set at 83 degrees, trying to put books away, organize desks, mop the floor, and pin lovely borders around the blackboard ... sorry, I mean whiteboard, I forgot I was ancient.
Mark your calendar for August 28, the 50th anniversary of Martin Luther King’s iconic “I Have A Dream” speech, which was delivered to more than 250,000 civil rights supporters from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.
“It’s going to be the next big YA book,” a publicist told me about Rick Yancey’s “The 5th Wave” (G.P. Putnam, ages 12 and up). This is the kind of comment a reviewer has to weigh. Is this sales spin, or a truly remarkable book that will captivate young audiences — and me? The only way to judge the hype is to read, or listen for myself. The last time I’d heard that kind of pumping, a publicist was recommending Suzanne Collins’ “The Hunger Games.” I devoured that book in a weekend and have watched its sales and fan base grow ever since.
North Carolina’s most famous missing person just will not go away.
If you asked me on any given day, really, where in the world I would least like to be at any given time, the mall – any mall – would rank right up there with a men's athletic locker room, and anywhere in Yemen. Give me an old-fashioned “shopping center” any day. In fact, if there were a shopping center with a grocery, a hardware store, a pharmacy, and a T.J. Maxx – oh, and an ABC store – that would be the consummate shopping experience for me. Sometimes, however, as hideous as it may be, I am forced to go to a mall with a friend who actually likes malls ... and who may have accompanied me to a bridal fashion show once, OK twice, like years ago, OK last March. (I adore all things bridal, you see ... like brides ... and grooms ... and cake.)
A new group of Johnson Interns will arrive this week to spend a year of service in our area. They will live together in a monastic model of community life that will require some adjustments, especially around food.
After all these years, all the lessons, all the ad-nauseum rehashing of every single stroke on every single hole by every single male member of my family – I finally get it. I can now appreciate a good round of golf.
Do you ever feel way down deep inside a loneliness that makes no sense?
Chris Christie has gotten in touch with his inner Maureen Dowd.
“It is like scrambling back into the frying pan to get out of the fire.” Native Egyptian and longtime Chapel Hill resident Samia Serageldin, is trying to describe where Egypt finds itself after the military overthrow of the Muslim Brotherhood-backed President Mohamed Morsi.
People talk about beach reading, but I think first of beach listening. My husband and I visited a friend on Okracoke, and I knew he’d be his usual serious self while driving---eyes on the road, watching for tailgaters, speeders, and lurking police cars. The last time we went, he worried about catching the ferry, disobeyed his own rules and caught a ticket before we made the boat. So I knew there would be no chitchat aside from my periodic plea for a bathroom stop, so I plugged into audios.
I hate going to Walmart. Not that I hate Walmart itself; honestly, Walmart employees are usually the nicest, happiest, friendliest folks around. Especially that man or woman who greets shoppers when they come in, and bids them farewell when they leave. They really love their jobs!
Detroit ran out of money and seeks to restructure its debt, namely its huge pension obligations, under Chapter 9 of the federal bankruptcy code.
Many are the excuses for this massive failure, with white flight being the most romantic and least accurate of the explanations.
“What is a claret jug?” It is the British Open’s Championship Cup that Phil Mickelson earned last weekend. This lovely silver jug was designed to hold and pour claret, a French red wine from Bordeaux and a longtime favorite of many Britons.
I don’t watch much television news, for several reasons. First, call me crazy, but I just want the facts, you know? I’d like to hear something like, “Today, North Korea’s president gave a speech in which he said, ‘Neener-neener-neener, you can’t make me stop building nukes!’ while simultaneously looking into the camera and flipping off the United States.”