Cleaning out some boxes I ran across a yearbook Mississippi College had compiled for incoming freshman. Each student submitted a photograph and a bio.
Beauty is ageless.
If green is truly the new black, and since everyone from my 71-year-old mama to my 17-year-old niece begins ands ends every conversation talking about saving money, then 2010 could very well be the year for smart shopping. And that’s nothing to blush about.
With hundreds, if not thousands, of hairstylists chiseling, combing and coiffing the locks of ladies from the small town barber shops and beauty parlors to the swankiest of “citified” salons and image studios, I ask myself the same question that lots of first-time clients have asked me. Underwhelmed or downright displeased with their last cut, they sit in a new stylist’s chair and ask: “Why can’t I get a good haircut?”
From Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice” to Robert Altman’s “Gosford Park,” the English country house plays a role in the imagination as it has in English society and history. It is a role that has changed greatly over the centuries, as has the role of the servants who ran the places.
We are united by jillions of connections, visible and invisible. You can call it a network, or the World Wide Web, or links. But, no matter, we are tangled in a labyrinth that no one really understands.
In my family, life was a picnic. Everything we did as a family somehow revolved around eating. As a young girl my dad would take me to hunting camp with him and the extended family. Everyone was loaded in jeeps and pickups; each hunter supplied with a brown paper bag filled with breakfast biscuits (the homemade kind) sausage, ham, cheese, assorted snacks and a thermos of hot coffee.
“Barney came to the gossip bench and said ‘I barbecued a dog on a tractor axle yesterday down at the dump yard’ And nobody looked surprised, if they were listening at all ‘Cause when you’re old to act surprised you have to try real hard.” “Barney” – Written and recorded by Mac McAnally I’m to service station food what Craig Claiborne is to the finer dining establishments in New York. On my travels here and yon I have subconsciously recorded where the lamps are that warm the best burritos, egg rolls and, above all, chicken tenders that Mississippi has to offer.
Family, friends and others gathered Wednesday afternoon at the lobby of the Columbus Municipal Building as Garth Palmer’s family presented Columbus Police Department Chief Joseph St. John with Palmer’s police uniform, badges and other memorabilia at a special ceremony.
The human heart is conditioned to feel love for others on Valentine’s Day and to express it in numerous ways — a hand-picked bouquet of flowers, a heartfelt sentiment scribbled inside a card, or chocolates.
You know all about awards programs like the Oscars. You know there is a Baseball Hall of Fame (and maybe you know there are plenty of halls of fame for minor sports like, say, trap-shooting). Did you know there was a hall of fame for toys? Something called the Strong National Museum of Play, located in Rochester, N.Y., is on a mission of “exploring play to promote learning, creativity and discovery and to illuminate American cultural history,” according to George Rollie Adams, President and CEO of the museum.
The unpleasant history of racism in Mississippi through the 1950s has plenty of familiar stories of black people persecuted and white people allowed to persecute because that was just the way things were done back then.
Humans try to identify and organize things. It’s a big step to larger understanding, and of course it is essential in biology.
This week the news has been filled with stories of saints of every sort.
There’s frugal, and there’s free. Nowadays people have lost jobs and for the first time are worried about putting food on the table and a roof over their head. Frugality is avoiding unnecessary expenses, but what do you do when your income has shrunk to almost nothing? I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.
In October I ventured to Northport, Ala., to see what was going on at the Kentuck Festival of the Arts, an annual two-day conclave of artists whose work is top-notch.
I hope that “better late than never” is a truism, because with the rush of the recent holidays, I let a significant anniversary slip by.
Even though it’s cold outside, now is a good time to stroll through your yard with pencil and paper in hand, noting what worked and what didn’t in your landscape last year. Viewing it during the bare-bones winter season will help you see where changes should be made.
It’s oyster season, and I’m hankering for a trip to Apalachicola for an oyster orgy. I’ve only been to this part of Florida — the Forgotten Panhandle, as it’s known — once several years ago on a Southern Foodways Alliance field trip. Terry and I spent three days with others learning about the challenges facing the U.S. oystermen, going out with them on their boats, with tongs, shucking oysters, eating oysters, smoking mullet and worm grunting (hunting for earthworms). I came home with a deeper appreciation of these men and women and the hard work they do.
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