I confess I’m uninspired today. Tired, burned out, and hastily trying to cram a post in between other important stuff that should (at least by other people’s standards) be priorities. I’ve been searching aimlessly all day for the one thing
I’ve been thinking a lot about labels and definitions lately. It seems like no matter where you turn in the food world these days, there’s some label you’ve got to confront; whether it’s the classic nutrition label on the jar
I have a confession to make: I think I’m starting to enjoy beginning my week with “Worst Cooks in America” and a Kid’s Meal Makeover. The show itself is getting a little more palatable (bah-dum bum…no pun intended there, folks).
Yesterday, I had the interesting experience of reading a comment from a reader in the Netherlands, Line, who asked the following astute and provocative question: “I can’t help but wonder if the state of good food and nutrition, or rather
So. I read this article yesterday, and I dismissed it, because it got me mildly riled up and I didn’t feel like playing that game at that moment in time. But this morning, once again, fabulous blogger Bettina of The
I just returned from the museum with J. and the boys. We’re nearing the end of our 10 days of happy happy family time — no work, no school for the boys — and, naturally, we’re needing to find a
Today is sort of a fun day for no particularly good reason. I mean, I’m still at work; we still had the usual craziness of juggling all the morning stuff and getting everybody out the door on time; I’ve been
An astute reader asked me recently what other people in our lives think about the way our family eats. She commented that when she’s at work, even if her lunch is no more radical than, say, some homemade hummus, other
It’s been a heck of a week. P. came down with a raging case of Coxsackie virus, and an ear infection to boot (talk about adding insult to injury!), prompting his doctor to advise us on Monday: “Don’t let him
Last night, things in our house went just about the same way they always do on a hectic weeknight. Nearly-4-year-old L. perched on a bar stool in the kitchen, helping me knead, stretch, and pound balls of pizza dough into