Veteran journalist Barbara Falconer Newhall riffs on life as she knows it.
I’m Barbara Falconer Newhall and I’ve got an incurable Case of the Human Condition. And since you do too, I’m counting on you to laugh and cry along with me as I riff on life as we know it . . . Below you'll read about my creaky, old fifties house, my forays into home gardening, my shopping stories, my spectacularly low-fashion wardrobe -- and more.
I’ve been contemplating writing this little photo essay on the toilets of China ever since I traveled there last September. It’s taken me all this time to overcome my mid-century Midwestern upbringing, where nice people didn’t talk about poop and pee in public. My nose for news finally prevailed, however when a Mainland Chinese couple allowed their toddler to urinate publicly on the streets of Hong Kong.
Bay Area residents — it’s not too late to catch this year’s Himalayan Fair at Live Oak Park in Berkeley. Today’s the second and last day of the annual celebration of the cultures of Tibet, Nepal, Bhutan and North India — and a terrific shopping opportunity.
I took a late afternoon camera walk in the woods the other day. The sun had dropped low in the sky, so the light was soft and was coming at everything sideways. Read more.
It’s Sunday morning. I pull the New York Times Magazine from the fat stack of newspapers on the breakfast table, fully intending to read the informative, thought-provoking articles inside. But I get no farther than page two, because that’s where the real estate ads are – the ones with the floor plans. Read more.
I’m worried about the strawberry. It’s too late for the tomato. Its innards were transformed into colorless, flavorless – but easily shippable – pulp decades ago. Which is why I’m concerned about the strawberry. Is it going the way of the tomato? Read more.
Art. Bouquets. More art. More bouquets. My idea of a good time. I spent the day yesterday at the annual Bouquets to Art show at the de Young Fine Arts Museum in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park — joined by two friends who enjoy flowers and art as much as I do. Read more.
There he was. In the flesh. Tall and slender and muscled and oh-so-handsome. Sigh. It was Superman. The Man of Steel of my girlhood fantasies. My dream man. Read more.