Book clubs are all the rage. They’re everywhere. Oprah has one. Civic groups and country clubs have them. Chances are your church or synagogue has one. (Come to think of it, they’ve been reading the same book for years). Whether they’re formal and structured, or a free-for-all in someone’s home, book clubs just might be
With Thanksgiving less than two weeks away, I have been contemplating my table setting. Some of the usual adornments shall remain the same. I will order a lovely floral centerpiece. I also plan on bringing out the special china reserved for such holidays, as well as the party silverware, even though the pieces require hand
So when is it safe to eat salad again? That’s the question on the lips of every diet-conscious woman in America. Which means almost every woman in America. Based on a warning issued about ten days ago by the Centers for Disease Control, romaine lettuce is the latest casualty on the healthy-eating food chain. The
Book clubs are all the rage. They’re everywhere. Oprah has one. Civic groups and country clubs have them. Chances are your church or synagogue has one. (Come to think of it, they’ve been reading the same book for years). Whether they’re formal and structured, or a free-for-all in someone’s home, book clubs just might be
I hate lunch. It is definitely my least favorite meal of the day. And by far the most boring. And also disruptive, much like an intermission during a play. Which I also hate. Not the play. The intermission. I frequently choose to skip it altogether. The lunch meal, not the play. I have read that
Six days and counting, and I continue to eat my way out of Florida. More good-bye dinners with friends we will not see for six months. So what if my clothes have gotten tighter? I am more than compensated by the fact that the non-use of my stove and dishwasher is a great energy-saver. “Where
In a temporal sense, living in Florida as a Snowbird is a lot like experiencing a second childhood. Not only do we once again have more time to play, but our very concept of time itself has strayed from the calendar year. In reality, our days do not flow from January to December. As children,
I’m so glad this holiday season is over. Because if I hear one more boast about brisket, I think I’m going to spray paint someone’s Dutch oven. When did brisket emerge as the national dish of December? And where was I when this was happening? Clearly not in the supermarket purchasing Lipton’s Onion Soup Mix.
Do you remember when dining out with friends was nothing more than an enjoyable way to spend an evening? When choosing a restaurant depended only on the type of food you preferred to eat that night, and where your table was located may have been a preference, but not necessarily a deal-breaker? When noise level
