We were visiting somebody, somebody could have been anybody, anybody that is, who has given me house-prowling privileges.
Popular Papa was, for a moment, mean old Papa but mean old Papa can live with mean old Papa. Live with it and sleep like a 3-year-old.
Every so often, and probably not often enough, we are reminded that life is short, fragile and wildly unpredictable and it behooves us to embrace it with all the ferocity that we can muster.
I’ve discovered the secret of gardening. Don’t sweat it. Don’t be afraid to slam in plants, flowers, bushes, bark and rock and when they’re worn, tattered and torn, tear them out.
Crazy, isn’t it, to be excited about a new convenience store, but this is Bakersfield and we specialize in small, odd and offbeat. We take pleasure wherever we can, reserving it for the times between, when our senses are parched and in need of a reminder that all is not lost.
Everybody was betting against them. Everybody except their wives, and wives are a gimme — but I’m not sure that privately, they didn’t also have their doubts.
Last Thursday was steady. If you’re Israel and Chris Vasquez, the father-and-son team behind Wood-Dale Market’s new store in the Grand Island Shopping Center at Ming and Buena Vista, steady is good. Steady is doable. Steady may mean that a weekend crush is imminent.
Last weekend I dug a hole. Men are good at digging holes. Especially when their tongue is their shovel and they confuse wagging it with making progress.
Recently, I bought a new pair of shoes. New shoes are one of life's greatest pleasures. The promise is that nothing ever could ever go wrong in your life again.
Every Saturday at 4 p.m. for the last three years, Owen Law has driven his 2005 Saturn from his house near Old Farm Road and Olive Drive to the Wienerschnitzel on Coffee Road for dinner. The menu does not change. Law orders a chili dog, French fries and a small Pepsi.
The Saturday morning ride is sacred. If you don’t believe it, talk to my friend’s wife. He told her and she felt compelled to take it under consideration.
We have been watching “The Crown.” Just when you think you’ve had your fill of English period pieces about rich English people who don’t know a pot from a pan or cannot fathom how they can live without an under butler, along comes “The Crown.” The Netflix series covers the life of Queen Eliz…
A few days ago, I bought two pounds of thinly sliced rib-eye at Wood Dale Market in order to make Pat’s Philly cheesesteak sandwiches for our Super Bowl party.
A couple weeks ago we were on the Second Avenue subway waiting for a train. A man wearing a black fedora was sitting on the pavement, his back against a wide, concrete column. He was playing the guitar and in front of him was a plastic jar stuffed with $1s, $5s and change.
David Hockney could paint your grandmother’s cat and it would be a masterpiece you’d pay $37 million for if she had a cat and you had $37 million.
I started doing yoga again. Not only have I become a better person but I feel as if I am developing an understanding of my body. I understand this: My body is stiff. If I were wood, you could build a house with me.
Three times a week, I take the dogs for a walk. A walk, if you can call it a walk. The “walk” includes leashes, collars and a sweatpants’ pocketful of plastic, newspaper bags. The only thing lacking is the brisk, walking portion of it.
Last week, I put down my phone. I went two days without checking emails or text messages. I felt like I kicked Oxycontin, at least for 48 hours.
Recently, it was Wool Growers for dinner. I assume most people in town have been to Wool Growers, but given that it is perched on East 19th Street, the East part may scare some off. If “East” deters, then they might be unfamiliar with the bustling hub of restaurants in east Bakersfield that …
I started January with two things: muffins and “True Grit.” They seemed related and I thought it might make sense trying to figure out why. If they weren’t, both were worth talking about anyway.
Have we forgotten the allure of the soft roll? Soft and buttery, top to bottom and side to side. Soft and flecked with salt on the outside. Soft as your softest pillow.
Once a year, twice is better, it makes sense to go through your stuff. Otherwise you can become submerged in things you may use and clothes you might wear.
I’ll bet you didn’t know there were dental implants available for $350. I’d been quoted around $1,500 per implant, but a billboard on Interstate 5 near Downey suggested I might be overpaying should I pay that much. I didn’t know if the implants were made of Halloween wax or PVC but $350 seem…
I tried to put my blue swimsuit on but Michael Phelps had a problem. The drawstring was unusually long on one side and had disappeared on the other. I had a short and a long.
I make breakfast Christmas morning. I own Christmas breakfast. My Christmas breakfast has become legendary in the family and among friends lucky enough to have eaten it.
Every Christmas for the last 45 years, Jeff Jenks has fashioned an animated Christmas scene replete with snow in the window of Jenks Tire Co. on 21st across from Sinaloa Restaurant.
Don’t let Joan Garibaldi fool you. Sure, you might hear about her charity work, her mothering and grandmothering skills, her hospitality and her proficiency in keeping a bunco game together for 58 years since 1959.
Sometimes a home resists home improvement. No matter how much you think about it, fret over it or plan to change it. Things go south and keep going, harnessing the tailwinds of failure.
We’re out of shape. Not fitness shape, but watching a 2½-year-old boy shape. That shape makes regular shape look like it’s out of shape.
No snow here, not much rain, but falling leaves. In Bakersfield, leaves count for weather. A welcome stand-in for rain and snow. The best man at your wedding when your first choice is unable to attend.
Last week, we took the photo for the family Christmas card. Although it sounds simple, given the digital pool of pictures from which to choose, a good family photo may be more difficult to produce than getting into vet school.
Sandy James sent a note — handwritten, in cursive — about the joys of east Bakersfield. Her theme was that east Bakersfield has gotten short shrift lately as the town spins south and north.