Here’s some help with the pot-growing argot in Heather Donahue’s book, "Grow Girl."
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.
Hey, everybody! Come take a look at my updated website — lots of great stories and pretty good pictures.
Genealogically speaking, I’m not that far removed from Scotland. My father’s father was born near Glasgow. But the complex – presumably – set of beliefs and customs he and his parents brought with them to the shores of Lake Michigan in 1873 are lost to me now. Tartans have given way to Levi’s. Haggis has succumbed to pizza and Chinese take-out. When I think about where I come from, I do not think of Scotland. I think of Michigan. Read More.
Want to see some sexy dancing? My favorite Zumba teachers and their fast-footed Zumba students show their stuff on a video. That’s me on the left. Read more.
My mother is gone, but when she died, she left a few things behind — a battered old purse, a small sofa she liked to call the loveseat. Read more.
I don’t see a clear difference between slaughtering a pig and cutting down a seven-story tree. Between netting the wild salmon I eat for dinner and harvesting my breakfast oats. Faced with a choice between killing a pig and killing the tree in our backyard – I’d kill the pig. Read more.