
Well, well, well.
Here she is, referring to herself in the third person and pulling the same bullshit as always.
Continue readingWell, well, well.
Here she is, referring to herself in the third person and pulling the same bullshit as always.
Continue readingSomehow, over the span of my 15+ years calling north Jersey my home, I never watched The Sopranos.
Last year around this time, I was regaling you all with my Christmastime sausage habits. Don’t worry, the sausage addiction is very much alive and well – I made kale and sausage stew on Sunday night and I have several varieties in the freezer, ready to be broken out at a moment’s notice.
When my parents moved away from New Jersey, I was sad for a few different reasons. No more quick weekend trips home whenever I was feeling needy, no more easy access to a car, having to find a new dentist, like an adult. Ya know, just some truly devastating inconveniences. But one thing I’m really missing in this cool, fall weather that’s finally arrived, is my favorite soup from Market Basket in Franklin Lakes, NJ – creamy tomato soup with ravioli.
There is perhaps nothing more luxurious than being a lady (or fella) who lunches. An LWL, if you will.
Today is my birthday, and for years, that meant I got to eat ribs and birthday cake.
I may have gone to The University of the South, but trust me, I have no delusions of being a southern belle. I’m a Yankee through and through, from the pace at which I walk to the way I say ‘pecan’. But as someone who has spent a solid chunk of her time there, I do have an appreciation of the South and of southern cuisine.