This past spring, I had a book come out with the same title as this column. This was mainly because a lot of the material in the book first appeared here. This sparked some questions at book signings and in interviews as to how long this column has been around.
I should probably make a note of it somewhere. This Sunday, we turn our clocks back an hour — you know, “spring forward, fall back.” I usually never remember to do it until days later while constantly being confused as to what time it really is.
So far this year, I haven’t visited any of the New England states. I love it there — being around those small mountains of trees that are close to the ocean. When I’m away from New England too long, I find ways to remind myself that someday maybe I’ll get to live there. For example, my party lights arrived in the mail yesterday — little lighthouses that I now have hanging up in my bedroom area in my studio apartment in Westwood.
I was half asleep on the couch the other night when something struck me: I’m the human equivalent of a soft-serve “twist” cone. I jumped slightly at this realization — nothing makes me sit bolt upright, mind you. I’m a twist cone: a safe mix of vanilla and chocolate.
Though I’ve been happy to see a few small ethnic restaurants pop up along McMillan Avenue in Clifton Heights during the past few years, I’ve found it hard to stray from my old favorites like Thai Express and Red Pepper. So I was happy to be assigned to review the quaint and colorful Tea N’ Bowl (211 W. McMillan, 513-421-9111).
Many of you, at least a dozen, know my work as a music journalist for CityBeat and a variety of regional and national publications — some actually still in business — but virtually no one knows I’m also a musician of some discernible skill. I’ve never been in a band nor played out, though.
They say everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day. You should be so lucky. Being of Irish descent myself, I suppose pretending you’re Irish one day a year is better than nothing at all. But it’s not the same as the real thing, now is it? Ha, there’s nothing like a little ethnic smack talk to get the party going.
Wrapping up my first full year of writing a weekly opinion and analysis column, I’ve come to appreciate the absurdity of politics in a way I couldn’t fully fathom as a news reporter. Oh, sure, I’ve always realized that politics — both locally and nationally — really represents the human drama in microcosm, with all of the assorted hopes, fears, foibles and quirks that go along with it
In 1871, Henry Probasco gave the city of Cincinnati the Genius of Water sculpture and fountain. Her home became Fountain Square, and the square has been the center of the Queen City ever since. Fountain Square has been renovated multiple times.