I recently came across a envelope full of old photos of my mom when she was a child. A relative had sent them to me after she passed away, and I guess I was not ready to look at them at the time. Now I see in the photos a beautiful child posing in front of a quaint south Boston brownstone, alongside relatives or friends whose faces I do not recognize. I remember my Irish family members as so much older than the folks pictured there. They were all characters who loved to sip whiskey and sing songs of the old country, but you would never know that looking at their stern, stiff expressions in the photos. I wonder what they were doing and saying just before the photos were taken, and I wish their names were listed on the backs. It would help me distinguish between my endless relatives named Mary.
A number of years ago I was on a tour of Highgrove Royal Gardens in England. At this, the private residence of Their Royal Highness, we marveled at the beautiful hostas and ooohed and aaahed over the meadows of wildflowers. It was all quite stunning, my dears. And at the end of the tour guide slowed her pace. She lowered her voice nearly to a whisper as she announced “And here … we have … the California Wild Lilac!” Sounds of delight and awe rippled through our tour group. My colleague and I exchanged quick glances—so much build up for a native California plant that we routinely fly by on the highway without a second thought (no booing here, I truly love our hardworking ceanothus). And I couldn’t help but think about how much coddling and care must go into keeping that Mediterranean climate-loving shrub happy so far from its native soil.
It took 160 hours of training for a 7 ½ minute improvement. To set a personal-record (PR) at the California International Marathon (CIM) in Sacramento on Dec. 4, I had to train harder than ever. That meant running 60 miles a week, six days a week (Sunday was my lone day off). My "recovery" runs were anywhere from 7 to 8 miles.
The mood went from dawn to dusk, a collection of contemporary paintings spanning the brilliance of an entire day in Monterey.
It’s the beginning of a new year, which means one thing is certain in the fitness industry: more new members sign up in January than in any other month of the year.
Aaron Rodriguez was selling sushi out of his house while he was still in high school. He was building a business and clientele before most kids even entertain the thought of culinary school. Rodriguez, 20, says it was the support of his clients that encouraged him to pursue being a chef.
As the whirlwind year of 2016 finally comes to a close, we’ve been witness to an impressive series of monumental happenings in world history, sports, entertainment and of course politics. For those that have been too caught up to make plans to ring in the New Year, here’s a list of local events to raise a glass for “Auld Lang Syne.”
I can’t believe it’s taken me 60 years to learn about WubbaNubs and Baby Einstein, things that are among my most valued possessions now.
The word “boutique” sends a message of stylish, individualized clothing. Entering a fashion boutique is akin to being transported into one of the fashion capitals of the world, where the quality, patterns and cloths used all depict the quintessence of haute couture.
The flu season is fast approaching—the other day while at a stoplight I was sandwiched in between two people who were coughing incessantly—but fortunately science has given us ways to get through the winter months with fewer sick days. In terms of preventing the flu, getting a flu shot—surprise—is a must-do.