Best Buys
Last time Patrick’s Grandma Pat was in town, I made some of my yummy shrimp-and-rice bake. It took her one bite to detect the chicken stock — oops! “Just make me a fish stick next …
My husband Patrick is the Dr. Frankenstein of bicycles. He takes a wheel from one, a seat from another, a pedal from a third, and patches together working bikes. He came by these skills early …
My oldest hits high school next year, and my worrywart Aunt Azelda is pestering me about his college plans. I suppose a little planning wouldn’t hurt, so I rang up San Diego’s Lynn O’Shaughnessy of …
Aunt Azelda wants to watch the sunset from the end of the Ocean Beach Pier. She’d like to get a glimpse of the baby hippo at the zoo. Most of all, she wants to graze …
My two middle boys went deep-sea fishing a while back, and a couple of Fridays ago I cooked up some killer fish tacos with their rockfish. But while the insides were awesome, the tortillas proved …
Rain pelted the windows for days in November and December. Snow piled up in the mountains. Hubby Pat bought lift tickets to Mount Baldy, a small ski area in the San Gabriel Mountains about 100 …
A sign you’re getting older: you start hearing your friends worry about their kids’ performance on the SAT. They all knew about the usual large-scale test-prep options, but I was curious about finding something on …
“Can’t we just rent a goat and let it do the weed whacking?” moaned my hubby Pat. He had been cutting the tall grass for an hour and still had an hour’s work to do. …
How have I held off on a video-game console for so long? I have no idea. But for my oldest’s 14th birthday, I’m breaking down, just a little. I’m renting him a game truck. Kathy …
There’s a new baby in the family. Little Jude was born to my niece in December, and his great-aunt Eve is assembling a gift basket for him and his mom. Instead of buying whatever is …
Every year, Patrick resolves to lose that spare tire. Every year, he fails. And then he complains about it. He caught me at a low point last week, and I barked back, “Well, why not …
Thick, curly locks that tend toward frizz + no time for styling = a bad hair day. “Time to get some professional advice,” offered husband Pat. “You’re starting to look like Phyllis Diller.” I resisted …
“Children have no respect for hangovers,” moaned my friend Karen. “Too much eggnog at the office Christmas party on Friday; too many tiny feet pounding on the floor early Saturday morning. I’ll never drink that …
“We wish you a Merry Christmas…so bring us some figgy pudding…we won’t go until we get some…” “Mom, what’s figgy pudding?” asked my youngest. “I haven’t the faintest, dear,” I replied, “but it must have …
The words of A Christmas Carol filled the living room. The fire roared in the potbelly stove, and homemade eggnog warmed our hands. My older brother’s fireside readings are a Christmas tradition I miss dearly …
Every Christmas, fat, multicolored Christmas lights line the rain gutters of the Kelly home. My husband Patrick bought them as a protest against the proliferation of white icicle lights dripping from our neighbor’s eaves. “Santa …