Someone tweeted something yesterday, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.(more…)
When it comes to food, I’m an omnivore who leans to the carnivorous side.
I’ve always tended to save more of the room in my belly for meat and less for the vegetables, to the point a lot of people don’t believe I get enough nourishment of the plant variety.(more…)
Yesterday, I wrote about a noose found in the garage stall Bubba Wallace’s team occupied for the Geico 500 at Talladega.
I should have waited to comment on the situation until the investigation was finished.(more…)
I want to talk about a noose.
Somebody found one in NASCAR driver Bubba Wallace’s garage at Talladega Superspeedway yesterday.
Whoever put it there wanted to fan the flames of racism and hate, but the plan backfired.(more…)
There’s a statue in the center of the city where I went to school.
It’s a lady who holds a bug above her head.(more…)
Southerners are really good at food. It is a fact of life. Some of us can really cook it. Some of us can really eat it.
The real gems can do both.
They usually have restaurants with names like “Big Daddy’s BBQ.”
Food is a way of life here, and it’s important.
I’m not sure if I have the words to tell you just how important food is to Southern people so I’ll just present a fact from my life as evidence.
Mama once made me a meatloaf cake with mashed-potato icing for my birthday. I kid you not.
I had a hard time with what to write for today’s WordPress Discover prompt, which is dish.
I think I’ll try to write a poem, because I’m running out of time.
Maybe I can make it rhyme.(more…)
This is a place where some days seem to feature all four seasons, and others offer only wet heat.
Days like today, when the breeze is just gentle enough to rustle the oak leaves, are meant for front porches and rocking chairs. (more…)
I went to watch a play Saturday night.
It was the first time I attended a live play put on by professional actors since a school field trip to the Alabama Shakespeare Festival.
The trip I took to Montgomery with the rest of the ninth-grade class is a pleasant memory except for one thing.
My phone was going crazy, and it wouldn’t stop. The screen showed a flash flood alert, but I dismissed it and glanced up at a small sliver of road through a rain-soaked windshield.
I was on my way to Georgiana, on a trip to see the museum inside Hank Williams’ boyhood home. (more…)
The first day of my trip to Birmingham was great, and it provided me with an opportunity to do something I don’t normally do. (more…)