Costume Party

“Olden days again?” my seven-year-old sighs as he catches me curled up on the couch. “You were watching that yesterday.”
“This is totally different!” I protest. “That was 19th-century England. This is 17th-century France. Look at those dresses! How could you mistake this for working-class London?!”

Soup Opera

I wouldn’t know a parsnip from a peanut, and I’d rather eat glass than shop for chicken necks. But my grandmother’s gone, and my mother’s not going to be around forever. Someone had to learn to make the matzo balls.