Plan well, eat well

We are at our usual halfway point of starting out the New Year sticking to a weekly family menu.

Each year, we do our collective household New Year’s resolution that, during the week, we will eat healthy, eat at home and shop wisely. (We can schedule in a restaurant or a guilty-pleasure meal on the weekends. For what it’s worth, my son and I both share the same favorite guilty-pleasure meal – gas station hot dog. You say it’s awful? I say it’s awfully delicious!)

How to further destroy journalism with one single bad idea

In my previous life as a newspaper editor, I received many calls from readers pointing out errors in the paper. Some were nice. Some were patronizing. Some thought they were the funniest, most clever people ever to engage in journalistic discussion. But every time they called, I always had the same reaction – I was mad. Mad, mad, mad. Mad at myself for not catching it. Mad at a reporter for writing it. Mad at a copy editor for missing it. But just mad. Because I knew that the folks putting together your daily newspaper knew the difference between “its” and “it’s” and the proper way to spell “annex.”

Welcome back, my old breakfast pal

Three years ago, I had one of the toughest break-ups of my life. And it’s never easy to break up with your oatmeal, especially when you’ve been together for more than 30 years.

You see, for most of my life, I have eaten Quaker Instant Oatmeal (maple and brown sugar flavor only) for breakfast. Sure, we do the occasional weekend bacon and eggs or waffle breakfasts, but the instant oatmeal was my go-to staple. But then, something changed. As I wrote back in 2011:

The perils of being a parent at a restaurant

So my family was at a restaurant the other night. We were situated in a booth, strategically arranged as usual so that (a) my two left-handed kids had free reign to swing their eatin’ arms and (b) there was no brother-sister under-the-table leg kicking capability. (Team Gibbons getting situated at dinner often looks like a well-choreographed dance. We’re fun that way.)