So my four year old started sniffling yesterday, which makes him (and me!) miserable. My Old-World instinct is to go straight to the grocery store, where I buy an organic chicken, some celery and carrots, and put it in a pot. After all, if some homemade chicken soup doesn’t help, it’ll at least help him […]
The dollar store lures with its cheap thrills. Is it a hunt for bargains or for something more?
Yan can cook… but can he get my kids to eat their vegetables? Grace takes advantage of a cooking class with Martin Yan to get some parenting advice.
Growing up, my father marched our family down many a hiking trail. I was always convinced that the love for the outdoors had skipped a generation. Or has it?
My son has really gotten carried away with St. Patrick’s Day, a holiday I never really celebrated as a kid. What I remember most was the fear of getting pinched for not wearing green. Or the fear being harassed for wearing green while not Irish. Could this be a sign of his innate Irishness?
I’m trying to cut down on all the frenzied rigamarole of the holiday season. I let Steve decorate the tree, I didn’t volunteer to bring any graham crackers for the first grade gingerbread houses, and I tried to cut down on the number of presents this year. But one self-imposed ritual I refuse to give up is the photo Christmas card.
The Thanksgiving turkey was always accompanied by candied sweet potatoes. This very American dish seemed strangely appropriate for a family of Taiwanese immigrants, as the island’s early settlers survived on the hardy orange tuber when rice was scarce and expensive.
The old people were clapping their hands, Big Brother was air drumming, tapping his feet and beating on the back of the chair in front of him.