If you watched the television sitcom “Black-ish” last week, you saw how the dad on the show, Dre, faced down his 40th birthday and threw a party. I related to the episode because I, too, (ahem, cough) am facing down 40 this year. I’ve still got several months left of my 30s, but the hill beckons me over.
Aahhh ... Springtime is here. Trees are budding, flowers are popping up, birds are singing, and the grass is greening. It should be a time of happy beginnings, sweet expectations, and the bracing realization that there are only nine weeks left till we have to wear bathing suits.
An update on my training progress for The Great Saunter, a 32-mile, 12-hour walk around the perimeter of Manhattan island that I have registered for while under the influence of extreme stupidity. (I also blame my 25-year-old daughter, who has 25-year-old legs and feet, and who said, during a conversation, “We can do this.” I think she was talking to her legs and feet.)
March is the best. As this weekend ushers in the official commencement of spring, let us reflect on the greatness of March. This won’t be a column just about March Madness, though that’s certainly part of it. We’ll get to basketball. But first, flowers.
Over the next few weeks, people who have absolutely no idea what a bracket is and whether you need a Phillips screwdriver to attach one, will fill out the names of dozens of men’s college basketball teams without having a clue as to what they are doing or why they are doing it.
Call them out. Sometimes people deserve to be called out. Now, we know that the racist fraternity students at the University of Oklahoma were immediately called out, the fraternity disbanded and the university swiftly dealt the appropriate response.
Q. My husband has been taking lisinopril for years now to control hypertension. We never associated his persistent nonstop coughing with this drug until today.
On the rainy, windy morning this past Thursday, I found sanctuary in a teacup and saucer. My teacup contained church coffee. Because one of my beats is religion, I cover quite a few events at places of worship that include the requisite carafe of coffee. I’ve been to nine years’ worth of congregational gatherings that include food or at the very least, coffee. There’s always coffee.
Although I am not, at this time, a candidate for president in 2016, I have decided to create an exploratory committee that will explore ways I can avoid saying I am a candidate for president in 2016.
Who were those folks complaining two weeks ago that the Triangle hadn’t gotten any snow yet this winter? Certainly, ahem, cough, not me. Oh, alright, I wanted at least one real snow to see the world in a blanket of white and full of crisp winter promise.
Many of you noticed and remarked on something we were pretty pleased with a week and a half ago. We had the results of the UNC-Duke basketball game in The Herald-Sun the morning after the game.
A woman broke down in tears Monday when she told a jury she ran her fingers through the hair of a lifeless 4-year-old boy as a final farewell.
A few days ago, just as I was all geared up to waste a few hours on mindless digital drivel, my Internet went down.
Physicians have long recognized that popular pain relievers like aspirin, ibuprofen and naproxen can harm the digestive tract. These nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs) are a mainstay of arthritis treatment.
Duke University and UNC-Chapel Hill, for all their storied rivalry and occasionally sincere dislike for each other, lets that battle of the blues fall away when it really matters. At Wednesday’s game, Duke students wore “DEAN” T-shirts — in Duke blue naturally — but with the point of an in memoriam to the late great Dean Smith, storied UNC basketball coach and legend off the court as well.