Last week, my birthday passed without time to celebrate. No cake, no party. I’ve been working a lot.  My... more

In a roadside gas station along Highway 21, in the Missouri Ozarks, I scan... more

The clinical term for what happened was a myocardial rupture, which basically means her heart exploded under... more

Five years ago I took some pills hoping to lose the perpetual 10-15 pounds that I would always like to... more

We won’t drink the juice and we won’t make wine with it.  Because, well, feet. But the secret none of us... more

This Evan Williams Eggnog has all of what you’d expect in a nog. That strong taste of Christmas, of vanilla and cream and cinnamon and nutmeg.

In the original 1937 edition of The Hobbit, Tolkien promises in his description, “If... more

This month’s column was going to be about quitting my last job, but what’s... more

I still remember how he'd pour, like a ritual, like he still does to this day when he mixes himself a Beam & Pepsi at the end of the day.

A massive plaster moon rotates above the rooftop bar, casting a milky... more

In the back of my fridge, behind the bottles of Boulevard Tank 7 Farmhouse Ale and cans of Good People IPA and bottles of Lipton Green Tea with Citrus and assorted bottles of water, there’s a bottle of blue pop.

A true bourbon is a bourbon with a story worth remembering. It doesn’t have to be a good bourbon, but then a true story doesn’t have to be a good story.

I was twenty-two the year I realized I was scared of everything.