It is Mardi Gras and I am sitting at the window, inhaling the nostalgia of Hillsborough’s historic flare, and the music inside La Place Louisiana Cookery is effectively creates the ambience of this new restaurant in Hillsborough.
The food here is obviously influenced by folks who know Creole and shrimp (say that while stretching out the lonely vowel in the middle) and here amongst the flare of a Southern town, Hillsborough’s newest restaurant is seasoned to feed those who crave authentic food.
North Carolina's metro mayors heard a sobering report when they met in Charlotte recently
Poverty is a bigger problem for them than it is for the state's economically distressed small towns and rural areas.
“We’ve got a new library in our front yard.”
My grandchildren's report should not have surprised me. These kids and their parents have chickens and bees in their backyard and a host of projects that sometimes make me wish I could be a child again, just to grow up again alongside of them.
But a library in their yard?
It wasn't a New Year's intention but a new morning inspiration that got me back into yoga class last week. I've written this column about yoga before, but despite all the endorsements I've given it in the past, I had let busy-ness and stress overtake me, and I had stopped going.
On Feb. 23, the Syracuse basketball team came down to Durham to play Duke.
With less than 20 seconds left in the game, Duke was leading, 60 to 58. Syracuse had the ball. With only 10.5 seconds left, the Syracuse forward, C. J. Fair, drove in for the basket. He collided with Duke player Rodney Hood. A referee blew a whistle, and for a few brief seconds, many fans held their breath. Was it a charge against Syracuse or a block by Duke? A referee ruled it was a charge by Syracuse
Welcome back to Part II of “How The Threat of Horrible Pain Can Make You Skinny” -- or, how I have finally discovered the answer to fast, effective weight loss -- which I learned because I was in desperate need of avoiding the potentially horrendous pain of a knee replacement. I know you probably think I’m just a ridiculous, wussified weakling because this potentially horrendous pain scares me so much, and you think I just need to get over it and woman-up, grit my teeth and take it, and you know what? I don’t care.
I have been an Ann Patchett fan for years. I have enjoyed the range and invention of her novels and even suspended disbelief as, in “State of Wonder,” she led me on an unlikely literary journey in the jungles of the Amazon .
I never knew her skill at nonfiction until I came upon her recent collection of 22 essays published from 1997- 2012, gathered in “This is the Story of a Happy Marriage” (book from Harper; audios from HarperAudio, 11 hours, 35 minutes). I listened to all of the essays, some of them a second time and then bought the book so I re-read the many passages that spoke to me. Listening and reading, I found myself in evocative landscapes layered with meanings that lingered and phrases that stopped me with elegance, honesty, or playfulness.