When I was seven years old my family bought an old house that was in need of a lot of love. The overgrown backyard was a nightmare for my parents, but a dream come true for free spirited, tree climbing, me. The tall grasses transported me to a jungle savanna where I’d scramble up dying cherry trees… Read more »
You know that scene from A Christmas Story where the father descends into the basement to battle the furnace and a cloud of gray smoke mingled with garbled obscenities seeps through the floor vent? That’s kind of how things go at our house when things go wrong with the plumbing. You’re probably wondering how plumbing and cheesecake are remotely… Read more »
When we were going to school we lived in a small attic apartment (the one with the paper dial on the oven). We had the privilege of living above a few different families and got to know them in ways that only a shared water heater and paper thin walls can. When our first downstairs neighbors… Read more »
When we were going to school at Utah State we planted a small garden every summer. We’d only plant a few plants, but between some combination of the plants getting radiant heat from a bordering concrete wall and being planted in rich, organic soil (compliments of our former downstairs neighbor), the harvest was always prolific. Our… Read more »
Anytime there is a gathering on Noel’s maternal side of the family, this dip is guaranteed to be there. I was first introduced to the dip by Noel’s aunt, the same one who changed my mind about hotdogs. When you go to her house and sit in her kitchen you immediately feel at home. Food appears… Read more »
Until just a few years ago I had never intentionally eaten a hotdog. In the course of my life I had maybe gagged down four or five hotdogs when extenuating circumstances necessitated it. (On the verge of starvation on some wilderness excursion, out of politeness when eating at someone else’s home, and maybe once to impress… Read more »
When I was a kid in Las Vegas my Grandpa Tick would take me on hot summer days to go pick fruit. We’d drive all over town to visit friends of his who grew figs, pomegranates, and lemons. Since I was young and spry, I got to climb the trees to retrieve the fruit and Grandpa would hold… Read more »
It just so happens that Noel is a fire building, tent erecting, hardcore hiking Scoutmaster. He takes all that manly skill, plus years of our kids conditioning him to be nonreactive to whining, and tries to inspire his suburban troops (all three of them) to try and like being outdoors, even just a little bit…. Read more »
Maybe I was a strange kid, but I didn’t really like Pop-Tarts growing up. I guess even back then I had a hint of good taste. There was one exception though. While I shunned Pop-Tarts ranging from strawberry to S’mores I could never turn down a brown sugar cinnamon Pop-Tart. There was just something about… Read more »
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