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Posts Tagged ‘postaday2012’

The Art of Dressing for Dinner

Posted in Food, Friendship, writing, tagged , , , , , , , , , on February 25, 2012 | 1 Comment »

I greet this Saturday with drool on my pillow, dreams of delectable dishes chasing across my starved palate. Will 6:30 this evening EVER get here? All day long, MTM will be torturing my nostrils with aromas. Simmering scents. Nuanced perfumes. Earthy smells. The four burners of the gas stove will work my abused senses into [...]

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Why Don’t We Do It in the Road?

Posted in Family, travel, writing, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on February 24, 2012 | 41 Comments »

An homage to Nashville, my home for the past couple of days. This Cootchie Classic had my mother telling me EXACTLY where I was conceived, right there in the comments on the original post. I’m going to spare your tender imagination, Dear Reader. Just reading that title makes me want to hurl. But, my parents [...]

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We’ll Go Honkey-Tonkin’

Posted in travel, writing, music, tagged , , , , , , , , on February 23, 2012 | 28 Comments »

You hafta go to the bathroom in this place. Not a standard greeting from an aged Southern gentleman, or any man desiring the chivalric title for that matter. He was slight. Abundant white hair, still arrayed in a flattened pompadour. Feisty. A force. He forced me to go to the bathroom. My job gives me [...]

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Flashing For You

Posted in Food, Marriage, writing, tagged , , , , , , , , , on February 22, 2012 | 46 Comments »

Last night, MTM and I were treated to a one-of-a-kind dinner at Lana Restaurant. Our Place, moved across town. John Ondo, the chef and our friend, put together a surprise meal that bowed to Mardi Gras, with oysters in every course, spinning the food with his talented flare. Thank you, John, for making such a plate-licking, [...]

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My Big Mardi Gras Reveal

Posted in Marriage, travel, writing, tagged , , , , , , , , , on February 21, 2012 | 49 Comments »

Late. My shoes clacked on the blue stone sidewalk as I ran. Perspiration broke out like a teenage rash on my upper lip. February in Charleston: does one call in sick to work to goof off at the beach, or choose to be semi-responsible with a meandering route to a rendezvous lunch of multiple courses [...]

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