Since the tooth has been with me for a long time and has served me faithfully, I decided to write its story.
Local, organic produce is of the blessings of our age—which at times seems cursed.
Dazzling as this food was, it was not as impressive as the army of back-suited, beautiful young men and women who flew between the tables.
Last night I noticed how a repetitive task—each leaf pulled off the stalk, dipped in French dressing, and eaten—demands a particular sort of attention.
Something about the grazing deer and my breakfast in bed made me want to start the New Year with a few words about self-indulgence.