A wedding damps our cynicism, lights some inner circuit, the kind we had as kids and then lost.
Did you say “over?” ... Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!
Posh’s wedding dress has been in a box in the basement for almost 40 years, getting dry, getting brittle.
I will let Smartacus go the same way the New England Patriots released Cam Newton: reluctantly and with a heavy heart.
I went to sort it out, rounded the corner and saw him: the bear who came for lunch.
A Chardonnay Mom works a tailgate party the way the Pope works Easter.
The Oregon Coast reminds me that the best way to fall in love is a little at a time, not all at once.
I don’t write essays so much as I pull on little threads to see how they’ll unravel.
LA architecture often looks like the broken omelets I make…like some version of anti-matter.
Hey, do the Americans need a team humorist? A satirist? A silly Socrates? I’d put on a toga, I’d munch a Pringle, I’d tell a story.