As I find myself just a few years from turning 50, I also find myself with the very predictable mid-life interest in physical fitness. While health and longevity are my primary motivators, I can’t deny the influence of vanity. It’s not as if I’m hoping to grow six-pack abs, like The Situation on Jersey Sh
The Skyline Chili restaurant at Fourth and Sycamore was packed with Reds fans enjoying dinner before the team squared off with the Cleveland Indians. Even though I find sitting through nine innings something worthy of Amnesty International’s attention, I wished I was going to the game. But no, I had something even more painfu
I grew up in the 1970s, just a short walk from Rapid Run Park in Price Hill. Its hilly topography made for excellent sled riding in the winter, and its two-foot-deep concrete pond made for some treacherously fun bike riding in the summer. My friends and I would remove our socks and gym shoes and pedal around in the pond, laughing as, inevitably, our tires lost traction on the scum-covered bottom and we slid into the water. Good times, to be sure.
I see that look on your face—don’t try to hide it. Foodies are dumbfounded by non-foodies. So much so that foodies will sometimes react with shock and horror if you inform them that a steak from Ponderosa isn’t that bad, or that much different from a similar cut at Morton’s. They take it personally! As if you just verbally assaulted their beloved grandmother or something!