My poor mother.
Growing up, I tormented both parents. Criminally lazy, I did my very few chores only after the threat of bodily harm. I took evil delight in pushing my brother’s buttons (most of which I’d installed). I’d try to see how many kids I could drive with in my 1971 Dodge Dart Swinger, Lancelot (the record stands at 11). My religion was “Question Authority.”
It's been more than half a century since the theory -- yes the theory -- was floated that saturated fats caused heart disease, and food manufacturers slowly started to remove fat. In the 1990s you watched as "Low Fat" and No Fat" started popping up on grocery store shelves like dandelions in a field.
Themes attached to group shows make it much easier for the visitor to be a part of the process, and trees are a perfect example. We know what a tree should look like, and we can weigh our ideas against those of the artist; there is also the chance to compare one artist’s vision with another’s. And then there are the unending numbers of ways to present a tree through the medium of art.
He was quiet, wore glasses and was the kind of redhead that ran a real risk of bursting into flame when exposed to the sun. He was also one of the smartest, and most talented kids in our class.
Q. Many years ago, while my dad was stationed in Hawaii, I climbed mango trees to pick mangoes for chutney. I had a terrible reaction: My eyes were swollen shut, my hands were so swollen that I couldn't close them, and I missed school for two weeks.
Ladies and germs — we have an authentic Christmas miracle.
I’ve mentioned before how impossible is it to get Petey to choose our evening meal. I get bupkis, neither by spontaneous utterance, nor when he’s prodded by a spouse who shall not be named.
It's all been a big fat, supersized lie.
Found objects: stuff from scrap stores, flea markets, Dumpsters, abandoned houses and yard sales have found their way into art galleries by way of both highly trained artists and those who are self-taught.
Perhaps you’ve noticed my email handle at the end of the column every week; it’s ‘Momsequitur’.
Q. I got stung by yellow jackets last week and reacted terribly. I swelled up and broke out in hives all over my body. It was so unbearable, I had to go to the emergency room for treatment.
This week Craven Allen is showing ceramics and paintings and at the Durham Arts Council are three very different painting shows. Craven Allen’s exhibition space is beautifully arranged with Brad Tucker’s pottery seemingly floating on their glass shelves against the bright greens and yellows of Linwood Hart’s paintings.
When I write a column, it’s a careful dance.
When you think of summer produce, which vegetable or fruit first comes to mind? Corn? Watermelon? Tomatoes?
I'd wager that Swiss chard isn't anywhere in your top 10 ... or even your top 20.
Swiss chard zipped across my radar when my CSA (community supported agriculture) box arrived the other week. Inside was a big bag filled with chard and all its colorful stems; yellow, pale green, magenta and red. Chard's leaves look like spinach, only larger.
Art can be a powerful voice against evil, social injustice and corruption.
My kitchen sensai, Chef Chrissie, has taught me many things.