Archive for December 2011

Salt salt salt...too much salt

Reading Jane Brody’s New York Times “Sodium-Saturated Diet is a Threat for All” I was reminded one of the reasons I hate to eat out. Yep, hate it. Because of the salt drenched foods, that make me want to gag. When will the food providers get it? We don’t want salt in everything. Don’t need... Read more »

Reading is fundamental (in this house)

‘Twas in the weeks before Christmas when I learned about the Chicago Public Library cutbacks—apparently in the time period I’d been out of town in October, Grinch Rahm Emanuel had decreed “bah, to reading” on the public’s dime. I’d recently chatted with a young woman on the no. 3 bus who was enthralled with Michigan... Read more »

Last Newspaper Subscriber Standing Canceling?

It’s my age, I like a hard copy of the newspaper. And I like it in hand, not on some gizmo…a newspaper. Remains of a tree. So yes, I pay through the nose to get the New York Times–the hard copy of it, daily. What joy. Like chocolate, rich and creamy writing–without the calories. And... Read more »

The Unseen (or is it?)

At the current, sold out special exhibition at London’s National Gallery of Leonardo da Vinci, I learned about  new research to see what is behind the veil of this most unprolific of painters. After all, there are only a reputed 14 known paintings by this master. Fourteen? No wonder their as rare as a Lowell... Read more »

The Ides of December

What’s the matter with American business? For one thing, they have confrontational issues with their customers. And when they deign to acknowledge the little people, the corporations lick their lips in anticipation of their favorite word–MORE. They want more for less from us, like Bank of America’s lamebrain idea to charge $5 monthly fee for... Read more »
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    Candace Drimmer

    I was an accidental expatriate; love and marriage led me to it. One day I was a bandy-legged kid sitting atop my dogwood tree looking out of my small backyard world in 1950s New Jersey, wanting to move somewhere--anywhere, different. Next thing I knew my father had accepted a job in Houston TX. I was ecstatic, it was a foreign land in 1961 America. After high school graduation, my parents’ gave me a matched set of fawn-colored hardsided American Tourister luggage. Taking the hint, I went to college; well four colleges in five years--it was the 60s after all. Meeting a young hirsute anti-war, soon-to-be-Peace Corps volunteer, I fell in love. After finishing up college coursework for my degree, but before I even walking a graduation stage, I grabbed the paper airline ticket my boyfriend had sent me, my brand-new passport, and was off to the airport and Lima, Peru.

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