Buying the Farm
If you read our post last month, buried somewhere beneath all the poetic waxing, you may have figured out that we purchased a piece…
If you read our post last month, buried somewhere beneath all the poetic waxing, you may have figured out that we purchased a piece…
It seemed a little bit like I’d become a sort of urban anthropologist, as I slowly worked to clear this little pocket of land….
“Peapods,” says Kelly Coyne, pausing for emphasis. We’d just told her and her husband, Erik Knutzen, about making wine with peapod hulls. “It’s just…
Why is it that of my many friends who are some variant of vegetarian/vegan/pescatarian, it’s this here carnivore who is most excited that Burger…
I was a cheap bastard, even when I made a living wage. This won’t surprise any of the coworkers from my careers in marketing…
It has taken me more than a year to publicly write these words, and it’s still not easy. But here goes, at last: I lost my job. Thirteen months ago. This was not ideal.
It’s that time of year when I feebly try to encapsulate 12 months into 80 minutes of music. “Skeleton at the Feast” is our…
There are miserable things about living in the South. I’m not talking about racism and poverty, which are everywhere. (I’ve got a couple of…
I’ve repaired Adirondack chairs that were rotting and turned shipping pallets into adorable porch swings. But for my money (or lack thereof), peapod wine…