A continuation of a look at lupus: The Wolf at the Door
This is Heide Wilson and this is not lupus-lite. This is twenty years of hell and hope. This is Heide sporting a wig from lupus hair loss. I met Heide through the S.L.E. Lupus Foundation and the Lupus Research Institute. This was no random accident; I requested to speak specifically with a lupus patient who had suffered organ-threatening disease and who had advocated on behalf of lupus research and education. I was also keen on knowing more about the tragic racial disparities in lupus treatment. If I’m lucky, Heide ...
You may think you can huff and puff and blow my door down but I’m ready for you to get the hell out of my way. I know that I’m not alone. Get out of their way, too - all 1.5 million Americans with lupus have had it with you. So Mr. Wolf, take your fancy Latin name (lupus), your mean, fiery eyes; ferocious growl and vicious bite and turn it on your own body, the way you make us turn on ours.
Howling Back
We’ve tried it your way; we’ve tried to let your sleeping dog lie, but you insist ...
You don't have to be in, or for that matter actually from New Orleans, to enjoy a soulful, bowl full of red beans and rice, the quintessential New Orleans Monday dish. Nor, must you actually do laundry while cooking, although the origin of red beans and rice suggests that a "back of the stove" dish that simmers along mostly unattended is the perfect meal for "wash day." It has also been written that the leftover ham hock from Sunday's traditional ham influenced the Monday menu, in more ways than one, as the ham hock seasoned the beans.
Of course, today is ...
I always liked a fat and jolly, real Christmas tree. Height was important but not nearly so much as girth; I wanted a full tree that ever so gradually narrowed toward the angel at the top. Loft living changed my idea of the perfect tree. It inspired us to create a two-inch thick, FLAT tree. I'm in love with it, although not nearly as much as the memory of making it.
We like our loft and have maximized every inch of space, from floor to soaring ceilings. Even with inventive use of space (using unreachable ceiling beams as bookshelves for books ...
"She sent out for one of those short, plump little cakes called petites madeleines, which look as though they had been moulded in the fluted scallop of a pilgrim's shell. And soon, mechanically, weary after a dull day with the prospect of a depressing morrow, I raised to my lips a spoonful of the tea in which I had soaked a morsel of the cake. No sooner had the warm liquid, and the crumbs with it, touched my palate than a shudder ran through my whole body, and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary changes that were taking ...
Keep a straight face now. This is tragic. Poor Paula Deen, while unloading Smithfield Hams for Hosea Feed the Hungry, was hit in the snout by the arse of a pig. It was captured on camera in a small slice. She quickly saved face and calmly muttered, “oooh, I didn’t know it was being thrown.” This was one of those monumental moments that few of us expect: when pigs fly. Clearly, anything can happen now. Snowballs may survive in hell.
The good news is that Paula did not fall flat on her face; but let’s face it, she didn’t exactly ham ...
Let’s get this part over with—Crescent Dragonwagon is a funny name and a real person. Crescent attributes her name to the “pig-headedness and idealism of her sixteen-year old self.” She’s no longer sixteen; the name has stuck, and she’s stuck with the name. So what? Betty Crocker is not – and never was, a real person. Crescent is the real thing, authentic, in fact, and could bake Betty’s booty off any day, especially with this honeyed and browned-butter pecan pie.
A bit about the creator of the recipe before baking:
I first met Crescent in Eureka Springs, Arkansas in the heart of ...
For as long as I can remember, I have been haunted by a profound question. No holiday meal challenges this question more than Thanksgiving, so I'm asking you … which is your favorite? Cream? Fruit, or Nut?
I am, of course, referring to pie. As Andie McDowell sang so passionately in the movie, Michael, "Pie. Pie. I love pie." You may recall the scene in the movie in which John Travolta (the earthly angel) and his companions, Andie McDowell and William Hurt order every pie in the restaurant for dinner. Oh how I wish I had been invited to that tasty ...
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