My Grandmother would entertain us with her stories. Some evenings, at our urging, she would recite
The Spell of the Yukon by Robert Service, the sad improbable tales of Sam McGee and Dan McGrew.
There were lessons in the lyrics.
The Golden Rollin' Belly, a pub with British pretensions and waitresses in wench costumes, had opened that summer just in time for the race season at the Del Mar track.
Read MoreLast December was the first month in over 30 years I did not send an invoice to a client.
Read MoreAs I puzzled over the wide selection at Murray’s Cheese, the cheesemonger asked what I was reading. I said Hemingway's The Dangerous Summer. "Ah, a mahon," he recommended
Read MoreWhile I am not of the culture, I am listening, paying honest attention.
Read MoreHere in the high desert they say the sky is our ocean.
Read MoreIt was the toughest job I have ever had and one of the most rewarding.
Read MoreWe were 1950's free range kids. Woolman Street was our playground—we ran down the sidewalk and clambered up the steps to our small yards and porches to play.
Read MoreJust outside my window the garden brings hope and solace. It has lessons if we pay attention.
Read MoreI am the last person in my family to have known my grandfather Tom Liss. He died when I was 7, five years before my sister Dianne was born.
Read MoreIt was the first Saturday of spring, March 23, and the conditions couldn't have been better — 70-degree temps and an offshore wind.
Read MoreAfter a brief honeymoon in Salt Lake City, the couple arrived in Shelby, Montana, crossing the threshold of their new home on Valentine's Day.
Read MoreIt's not quite dawn and I am standing at the top of a dune at White Sand National Park. Cold, anxious and mesmerized by the breaking light, I can't believe I am here.
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Coq au Vin is the signature dish in my culinary repertoire. I use Craig Claiborne's recipe from the tattered New Times Cookbook that was given to me by my sister for my first Christmas as a newlywed in 1975.
Read MoreI am no stranger to graveyards.
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He said his name was Leslie as he smiled and gestured to his collection of cowboy hats. "Visiting from out of town?" "New York City," we replied, which was no doubt our first mistake.
Read MoreIt was my first time in the city, and I was, as New Mexicans like to say, enchanted.
Read MoreThe three of us, my sister Dianne, nephew Eamon and I, were standing on Jackson Street in front of what had once been my Grandmother Egan's house.
Read MoreWhen I was a young girl growing up in Butte, Independence Day was one of my favorite holidays, so wasn't hard for my sister Dianne to convince me to join her and my nephew Eamon for 4th of July weekend in in my old hometown.
Read MoreSlipping into the pool for the first time in nearly two years, it came back to me—the sense of well-being that I find in the water.
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