Last week brought a deluge of tributes to the late president. Here's one more, courtesy of an old sailor I met right here in Charleston at the Yorktown. But can you trust the yarns of an old sailor?
The season of feasts is drawing near, reminding me of my kids', husband's, and my own food-related quirks. Also? Here's why you should bless the cook—or cooks—behind your Thanksgiving meal this year
While some are already jamming out to Christmas carols, I'm getting PUMPED for Thanksgiving. 16 days and counting to enjoy the season before we're all Trypting out (as in Tryptophan) on turkey...
Get ready to switch your clocks. Me, I'll comply with DST change-ups if I must, but mostly I file the rigidity of the calendar seasons in the BS pile. I have my own guide to the seasons...
The house decorated in skulls, ravens, and sepia-toned family photos; $50 stuffed bears from the Coastal Carolina Fair; faces sweaty from rubber masks. My favorite fall memories are flooding back...
What do quinoa and handicap go-carts have in common? Well, me of course... A ridiculous food allergy story for your Tuesday, complete with phantom phone calls and a slow-mo Harlem Shuffle
While I have no desire to be the pond police, I don't really care to witness one of the dim-witted Aflac ducks outside my window get eaten. Welcome to my wild coyote showdown—guess who won?
What was back-to-school shopping like? All about maxis, minis, silk shirts, and swimming with gators... Plus! Some photographic gems I pulled from the Renae Brabham archives
Instead of turning and smashing a whiny lady's phone on the ground in the DMV the other day, I pondered our knuckle-headed knack for complaining. As they say, "Ain't nobody got time for that..."
Let freedom ring? The venomous chants and social media slamming don't represent the clear tone of the bell I would imagine freedom sounds like... Why silence isn't necessarily weakness
Bugs make me do weird things, like cussing up church picnics... But if I learned anything from this one, it's that perhaps after a particularly trying day, we can still right ourselves and press on
Anchovies, Texas Pete, oscillating fans—over the past quarter-century my husband's succeeded in making me accept many things he likes. His latest mission? Scary vampire movies. Here's what happened...
After years of sleepovers and thunderstorm terror and charming texts, here we are. A look back, plus a nickel's worth of wisdom for tackling the world on the other side of those 16 Candles...
The Yadkin River, the Gippy Plantation... a look back at what I've snagged out of Carolina waters over the years (no exaggerations needed—this stuff actually happens to me)
My attempts at Twitter and text-speak had me sounding a little too much like a Macaw—hello, good-bye, have a good day, call me... Here's what happened when I adopted different rules of engagement
Not the sort of place you typically visit when you don't have to, but a beautiful camellia bush beckoned me toward the church's graveyard this weekend. Read on for the spring treasures I found there
My shameless history with this addiction, including late-night bunk bed barters and promises signed by the light of the moon. Oh, and how they cured a mean case of writer's block....
