MARTHA AND ME (AND PRETTY NAPKINS)

My friend, Beth, and I passed each other on Park Street. She was on her way from class back to the Kappa house, I was on the way to my poetry workshop in Richardson Hall. We did this every Tuesday and Thursday (Thursdays often in a hangover haze. Shout out to The Hoot!). This day, she handed me a copy of the newly published book by an upstart who would go on to change the way we think about cooking, entertaining, and style. Entertaining, by Martha Stewart...

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SUMMER IS STRAWBERRIES

July 4th went out like a lion wearing red, white and blue bunting.  July 5th came in like a summer lamb, serene and still.

Our town’s roads once again reveal the pavement that was obscured during the school year by a wave of SUVs and sta-wags driven by moms ferrying kids to school, practice, orthodontist and tutor, and themselves to tennis games, yoga, shopping, and the market.  It’s a dangerous place to be, that road.  Everybody is in a hurry, chatting on phones, putting on make-up, glancing back to check on crying children, or to hand a teenager a water bottle for practice...

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CIAO, AMERICA! (THE BEER)

I drowned my nationalism in a stale beer long before Budweiser was purchased by Belgian corporation AB InBev. Italy’s iconic beers were robbed from their cradles years ago. Ironically, AB InBev purchased Peroni, too, but then sold it off to Asahi. Moretti traded its Italian passport for a Dutch one when Heineken acquired it.

But this isn't about international beer intrigue. It’s about America, damn it...

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