What kind of dish would a Texas clubwoman invent? One that’s not too greasy, not too spicy, and, well, sort of tasteful.
They’d tell a tale of a half-century of Dallas wheeling and dealing.
Look out, Waxahachie! Here come the Protonettes, the Big Bang Motel, and the Phil Gramm Institute.
It was the hardest decision I ever had to make. Had the time come to put my father in a nursing home?
Three photographers of international reputation reveal their own new yet unfamiliar first impressions of Houston.
A year of avaricious Arabs, belligerent bovines, convincing Connallys, dubious degrees, elusive Elvises, furious firefighters, George's goofs, hassled Hunts. Ingenious inmates, jilted judges, knotorious Kneppers, loose locomotives, migrant moose, normative nerds, overcautious orchestras, preposterous pythons, qualmish queens, rampant roaches, Sue Ellen's swimsuits, targeted transvestites, upset umps, vetoed Virgins, wanton Willies, x-tremist x-chairmen, yammering Yankees, and zapped zygomatics.
Take two Aspern: one a world premiere by the Dallas Opera, the other the Henry James novella on which the opera is based. Which is better for you?
The plane was heading to Houston at dawn. Surely the pilot was kidding when he said we would be landing in Nashville.
The question wasn’t whether my son was tough enough to play high school football. It was whether I was tough enough to watch him do it.
An East Texas librarian learns the perils of shushing the wrong guy; Houston and Dallas put on the ritz for couture; and Citizen Butt picks the Texas Supreme Court.