“You really ought to do something about your feet,” Sue said, looking at them, as if they were not feet but sea creatures that are normally found in the cold, dark muck at the bottom of the ocean and have no business floating to the surface.

I still haven’t killed my first mosquito. I’ve had lots of opportunities but these little ___ (fill in your favorite colorful word) are turbo-charged and smart. It’s as if this species, Aedes aegypti, "an aggressive, day-biting mosquito, which has the potential to spread viruses such as deng…

On my desk is a quart-sized Mason jar filled to the brim with coins. The jar, as the label indicates, previously held Luigi’s Italian beans, which if you have not had them, are like money, better than money and whose flavor is more long-lasting than anything money can buy.

Is it me or are the mosquitoes worse this year? If there was a year where mosquitoes would swarm like bad news, this is the one. Mosquitoes and pandemic go together like biscuits and honey or the opposite, because they are neither pleasing nor sweet.

Everything else has happened, why not an earthquake? Although 2020 had a nice ring to it when the corks were flying, this could be a cleansing year. An opportunity to give up and look forward to 2021. In basketball and baseball, they call this tanking, and sometimes it works.

We recently drove to Nevada to visit our former neighbor Heidi Dinkler. Remember Heidi? She was the first female captain in the Kern County Fire Department and then made assistant chief before retiring and moving, first to Oxnard and now to Gardnerville, Nev.

Maybe Keith Stephens wasn’t a saint, and I don’t know if he was, however if you’re crawling out of Poso on a bike and Marotta’s hurt you, Pfister’s embarrassed you and Laurente is one stroke away from putting you away like winter clothes, the water fountain and bench that appear on your righ…

A friend emailed about a book he’d read recently about Michael Jordan called “When Nothing Else Matters.” It was written by Mike Leahy, one of his college roommates.

Normally, I don’t do this kind of column. Not because I am above or below the subject matter but because other people are better at it and make it their life’s work. I’d like to think, though I may be kidding myself, that I traffic in light, love and humor.

I wanted her to die at home. In her comfortable dog bed in the garage or underneath the house in the cool dirt she loved so much during the hot summer and fall days. Chin to chin with Charlie, our 3-year-old terrier mix who would not leave her side at the end.

Claire called but she wasn’t looking for a media shoutout because that’s not Claire. To the contrary, I may take myself out of the running for a warm basket of herb bread by mentioning that Claire Porter's restaurant, Uricchio’s, is, as already reported by The Californian, reopening for take…

It doesn’t take mid-May, the end of a school year and an episode from “The Wonder Years” to make me think about teachers, learning and life but the three together in rapid succession don’t hurt.

No matter how many times you’ve seen it — one, 10 or 100 — it’s hard not to laugh when you watch the Festivus scene in "Seinfeld" with Jerry Stiller. Humor is hard to dissect and if you try too hard you can throttle the life out of it and not come any closer to what makes it funny.

You never know when the last time is going to be the last time, but the last time we ate at Noriega Hotel was just before Christmas with our friends Bart and Napier Hill. We sat next to a group of retired county employees who had brought a dozen or so great bottles of wine and were in the sh…

I counted my shorts and I have 11. I was happy to find that not all of them had toothpaste on them. Toothpaste and shorts go together like red wine and tablecloths. They will find each other in this life and the next.

A friend and I rode up Breckenridge this weekend to the farmhouse. This is a head-clearing, soul-refreshing, landscape-delighting ride. It was also an opportunity to look for poppies.

We’re out of flour again. “Out” or is Sue telling me we’re out because she wants first dibs on making a cake, pie or cookies? I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s hidden half a bag of unbleached Gold Medal Flour under a bed somewhere.

The dog was barking. Dogs bark, that’s not new, but Charlie, the little terrier, dachshund, fill-in-the-rest mix was barking in a way that indicated more than the usual disparate, nonspecific, someone-is-walking-by-with another-dog bark. This bark was higher pitched and more dramatic.

I have a soft spot for Bombas socks. A popup on the computer for the socks grabbed me with its tagline: “The most comfortable sock you’ll ever own.” After finding that to be true, I have ordered them for the children, Sue and myself.

Recently, I refinished some old oak floors. I’d been through the floor wars before, having done a similar job years ago. Then it was summer and I lost 10 pounds and surprisingly did not get a standing ovation when the floors were done.