“A shot of tequila is the answer…” to just about anything that ails me, according to my husband. Leaning over the railing about to lose my dinner to the stingrays swirling below in the marina, the last thing I could … Continue reading
Sometimes I come home to find something foreign in my home. Usually that means my father is in town. The grandfather clock he dragged from my neighbor’s garage sale on a dolly is–less a found object than–a “how’d-you-get-that-around-the-neighborhood-and-into my-house object?” … Continue reading
I have a holiday secret. A how-could-you-forget kind of bad mommy secret. This might be the first year my German friends didn’t accidentally alert me that I missed St. Nikolaus Day. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe I found the freshest marzipan or … Continue reading
Grandmother’s Kitchen Sometimes I’m paralyzed by the idea that I can recall so few specifics about my grandmother. She was a cook undaunted by crowds lining up outside our church—serving three hundred or more in a night with her massive … Continue reading
Walking into the backyard this weekend, I was intrigued to see my thirteen-year-old kneeling under the grapefruit tree, digging. “What are you doing?” I asked. “I’m planting a time capsule,” she said. I smiled at the word “planting.” It seemed … Continue reading
“…[a]lluding to the snows of that season, the Germans say that “St Martin comes riding on a white horse.”[1] Mid-November marks one of my favorite adopted holidays. Why adopted? My husband is German. And while we Americans share many holidays … Continue reading
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