My editor, Jeff Houck, sent over a picture of pan-fried Scrapple slice and my heart fluttered like crazy. “Scrapple? Scrapple! What’s Scrapple? I asked him,” and within 30 minutes was off to the supermarket to find Scrapple, a distant cousin to Spam....
I witnessed something yesterday that compelled me to post something that was NON-ANIMAL: At stoplights, most people will chat on the phone, daydream or play air drum to the radio. Me? I sit there and rehearse different apologies to say to my kids’ daycare teachers,...
