Postcard #8 from Costa Rica: Sloths
At the bar in the Marriott after we introduced ourselves and began nibbling plantones and guacamole, our guide Ben asked the six of us what
At the bar in the Marriott after we introduced ourselves and began nibbling plantones and guacamole, our guide Ben asked the six of us what
Last night my mother, Maxine MacLeod, passed away peacefully. Today I’m sharing a memory of mom from 1947. (Not a lived memory—I wasn’t born yet!)
Zucchini. Zoo-keen-knee. What a disconnect between its name, free-spirited and lyrical, and the vegetable, ubiquitous and obese, tasteless and dull. (I cringe at the uppityness
I was not an ideal daughter. (Watch the comments section for confirmation from my siblings, cousins, aunts…) But in mom’s last years, blind, immobile, in
We promised you recipes, right? Our first one is associated with a trip we often take on Saturday mornings. A short one. Just across town
Local knowledge. It wasn’t listed in the New York Times 36 Hours in Tulum. We hadn’t heard about it from friends who’d been to Tulum.
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