Yesterday, I unscrewed the green garden hose from the hose bib. It had been billed as the “last hose you will ever buy.” That last hose I will ever buy will be the first hose I throw away when I hook up the new, black, expandable hose that came in the mail this week.
A high of 94 on Monday? Get out the Patagonia fleece. Fall is on the way and count on it soothing our chaffed souls by week’s end.
I looked at the weather app on my phone last week because the heat and guessing the high for the day has almost become a parlor game. It was 7:30 a.m. and already 90 degrees.
I called my sister to wish her happy birthday. Pam was older but how much older I wasn’t sure. Better to let her bring it up, which she did before too long.
I thought I had the record after spending three hours assembling the Little Tikes Cozy Coupe for our granddaughter Nora's first birthday but it appears I have competition as well as company.
Ten years ago I was in a thrift store in San Juan Capistrano and bought a green, short-sleeved cotton shirt from the Hawkings McGill collection, a collection I was not familiar with then or have seen since.
Yes. That’s the answer to will she know what to do with a chocolate cupcake. Children are born with the cupcake gene and by their first birthday, it is in full bloom.
Tony’s finest moment may have been the day he caught a jack rabbit in the shop. Former Californian reporter Gretchen Wenner had had her car towed in after breaking down on I-5 in the middle of way-out-there.
I was in Redondo Beach for a 60th birthday party. Life moves in waves. One day, weddings and the next, 60th birthday parties. Both are rich.
In honor of Dad, Sue cooked artichokes on the anniversary of his death. He liked artichokes and wanted to share them with everybody. Dad liked them in season and out.
We’re all recovering from something, and there is no better recovery drink than chocolate milk — chocolate for your tattered soul and milk for your beautiful body.
I was talking to a friend a couple of months ago when he reached for a cup of water. After straightening his right arm to reach the cup, he bent it at the elbow so he could bring the water to his mouth. When he did, I was stunned. Stunned and sad.
When I walked into the condo in Mammoth, there was a keyboard on the dining-room table, sheet music and some how-to guides. Three weeks from now, Mom turns 90. What better time to learn.
Last week was the last week. I’m wistful and I’m not. Wistful because second- graders are becoming third-graders, third becoming fourth and fourth closer to, "Goodbye, Mama and Papa." Meanwhile, parents are doing their best to slow down this rocket ship.
Strike almost-one for the guide was that he looked like my ex-brother-in-law. Athletic, sparse beard and laid-back take on most subjects.
Thomas, our youngest, cooks for a living, both privately and in restaurants. Most recently he lived with us while working for a local family, before taking off for a five-month stint at a restaurant in Gloucester, Mass.
I was talking to a friend. He knows vaguely what I do for a living. “Vaguely” because it is vanity to expect anybody to know what you do for a living.
“Did you know that we never recorded our marriage certificate?" Sue said recently. “I went to the Hall of Records to get our affairs in order and found that although we were legally married, we apparently never turned in the paperwork."
The first hot day, you don’t think you’re going to make it. I’m not going to make it, you say to yourself. Summer hasn’t even started.
Hal “Comet” Bopp emailed about the column on an orange snowflake and a white styrofoam ice chest flying out of the back of the truck on the way to the dump:
Recently we went to a party where they were serving appetizers, one of which came in the shape of a crescent moon and featured a meat filling housed in a crispy crust.
I made a Smart & Final run recently. I bought Windex, Lemon Clean Pledge, a package of Soft Scrubs and a mixed case of San Pellegrino Limonata (which may be the best drink on the planet) and Aranciata (orange).
A few days ago, I became an ordained minister. “An ordained minister.” I like the sound of it. It’s as if I were chosen and had no choice other than to say, “Yes, I will serve.”
Sunday is a good day to go to the dump. Every day is a good day to go to the dump. However, cool, spring and a truck bed loaded with overflow from the garage is a day that says, “Look out, dump. Soon I’ll be driving through your pearly gates.”
Steve and Vickie Murray recently lost their youngest son, Sean, who died three days after his 26th birthday. To say he was loved would risk understatement.
Hard to look at the river and not want to float down it. Hard not want to go from here to there. Hard not want to enter as one person and exit another.
Wind Wolves Preserve is located southwest of Bakersfield off of highway 166. Heavy rain has brought an abundance of vegetation as spring comes to the preserve.