TV happens. And once it's happened, it's gone. When it's gone, you move on, no tears, no tantrums, no videotape

For some Chicago expats, food is the medicine that blunts the pain of separation.

TV happens. And once it's happened, it's gone. When it's gone, you move on, no tears, no tantrums, no videotape

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft

Books are like blankets, the mere sight of them around the house provides warmth and comfort. They are like mirrors, too, reflecting places I've been, phases I've been through, people I've loved or thought I did.

You can map your life through your favorite movies, and no two people's maps will be the same.

Opening day. All you have to do is say the words and you feel the shutters thrown wide, the room air out, the light pour in. In baseball, no other day is so pure with possibility. No scores yet, no losses, no blame or disappointment. No hangover, at least until the game's over.