A radish by any other name would taste as . . . radish-y.
Filling in the rugelach map, one sighting at a time.
Another low-carb special, I’m sure.
In which I consider what *really* matters.
The red-wine series begins.
Me, 44th Street, and Hollywood: Queens of slo-mo
Serendipity in action again.
Cross-cultural contact: ain’t it grand?
Only 515 miles to go before we sleep. Or eat again, mayhap.