Affable and laidback, Scottish singer Susan Boyle likes to poke fun of Arizona—and herself—while talking about her debut U.S. tour, which comes to the Orpheum Theatre on Friday, Oct. 17.
Over the years, readers with a left turn to their politics have pointed their pens at me saying that I’m essentially a zombie lackey writer who follows orders from some higher right-wing power.
Casseroles are amazing. Their make-ahead versatility is a great helper in the kitchen.
As a travel journalist, I am constantly asked for my favorite travel experiences. The list is endless, but there is one destination that seems to raise the most eyebrows...
My right breast is deformed. Two surgeries and a five-day intensive radiation treatment have changed the structure of a perfectly beautiful breast. The skin is still smooth and the nipple looks identical to the original—it’s the implant itself that has dropped leaving the right breast lower than the left breast.
When Martha Sipple-Stevens found herself back in the dating pool a couple of years after her husband passed away, she was initially frightened about re-entering the singles scene as a fifty-something widow.
Jessie Clark used to go bowling once a week with her husband Bill. They bowled in a league arranged by AT&T, where Bill worked in Reno, Nev. So when Bill retired from the company in the early ‘80s, the couple also hung up their bowling shoes. Jessie took up painting and figured that her bowling days were behind her.
The American family continues to evolve, with multiple generations living under the same roof in more households than any time since the Great Depression.
True-life tales from some of Arizona’s most fascinating residents.
Dear Old Bag: Is it judgmental to call someone who habitually lies “a liar”?
“It’s time,” my wife will say, and we exchange grim nods before I rise. It is then, with a loaded sigh, that I forsake couch, ballgame and the comforts of suburban life to don the attire of a killer. In dark jeans, long-sleeved shirt and covered shoes—three of them—I pause at the patio door.
These are things you know about your son—a son who died when he was 25. They are secrets whispered in the dark, privileged information that you hold on to with all your strength.
Dear Old Bag: My husband of 50 years and I have been vacationing together for that many years. It has been 50 years of pain.
Planning out a big move across town requires a bit of organization. Enlisting the help of friends and family, packing all of the belongings carefully into containers and once moved, finding homes for everything—the to-do list can go on and on.
If real life was like a Dove commercial, every person would be considered physically beautiful, regardless of age, skin tone and size. But in reality, the media is sending the 50-and-older crowd plenty of messages about conventional beauty—and the answer isn’t frown lines and stretch marks, despite what marketing tools the Dove folks use.