For those needing a Jean-Paul Sartre fix.
I wrote this six years ago. I have not been invited to contribute to the annual summer camps section since.
A) Your place lacks a Bat Cave. B) You have no butler. C) You do not live with a tights-wearing ward. D) Nobody at Stately Wayne Manor sweats out basement radon levels. E) Other.
Maybe if your mission in life is to sell grills.
Would she see anything interesting?
What were the consequences when, as a kid, you first dropped an F bomb in the presence of a parent or guardian?
Umpqua Bank's dress code isn't quite as relaxed.
Make of that what you will.
This illustration makes it look like it was easy. But some backyard hurlers experienced chronic control problems.
Check this out.
A colleague's infant daughter was visiting the newsroom.
The woman, a fine reporter, showed her baby girl a printed City Council meeting agenda.
A couple of ladies who are among my favorite correspondents noticed one another's names in The Slice and have reconnected decades after being high school friends.
They once went on a dress-up double date that included dinner at the Davenport.
This doesn't have his complete 2013-2014 stats. But he was in the Stars' game last night.
How could you resist?