A few weeks back Rand and I were having a conversation with our friend Rob, who happens to be from England. The exchange went something like this: Rob: Bob’s your uncle! Codswallup! Bangers and mash! BLAH BLAH BLAH HOGWARTS. Me: I have no idea what you’re talking about. Speak American, please. Rob: Ahem … Did…
Note: My legal team has advised me to put a disclaimer at the beginning of this blog post, so here it is – this entry is in no way an admission of guilt, nor can it be admissible in court, because, um … it’s heresy or something. No, that’s not it. Oh, yeah, I remember…
I love cake. More than anything in the world, really (with one glaring exception). I am obsessed with it, in a way that few people will understand. Occasionally, I will rifle through old pictures, and find photos of cakes I made long ago. I remember them fondly, like old lovers. I long for them in…
I’ve started this post about four times. I kept trying to find a way to tie the topic matter to travel, and frankly, I couldn’t. It has nothing to do with travel. Instead, this post has everything to do with me. Or, more specifically, my mom. See, she’s just discovered Facebook. Since joining, she immediately…
The Fourth of July just passed, and as my husband and I stood watching fireworks with a couple of friends, I got to thinking a bit too heavily about what it means to be an American. No, I wasn’t drunk. Nor had I ingested any sort of chemical that would cause me to wax poetic…
I can’t take his money … I can’t print my own money … I have to work for money … Why don’t I just lay down and die? — Homer Simpson, The Simpsons – –
I’m finally (kind of, sort of) over the Colts’ loss a few weeks ago that I think I can finally talk about the Superbowl. And I promise I’ll make only one catty comment about the Saints. Maybe two. Some of Rand’s colleagues were over from the U.K. and joined us, along with a handful of…
It’s the Tuesday after the Superbowl. It is a day that holds a special place in my heart. Because on the Tuesday after the Superbowl, 2007, this happened: –
The other day we were hanging out with some friends – some American, some not, and we realized that none of us were really sure what countries are included in the phrase “United Kingdom”. Nor did we know what’s a part of “Great Britain.” England, we pretty much figured out (they’re those wussy guys who…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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