261 results for "Sam McManis,"
On his third beer, entering that transition between warm glow and steady buzz, Kevin O'Connell wasn't ready to leave happy hour at the Pour House, a bar on Q and 19th streets in midtown Sacramento.
Dogged by self- consciousness and suburban angst, I've always shied away from partaking in the whole U-pick produce craze that took hold a couple decades ago.
Shame on me for shirking my journalistic duty and failing before now to stop at Bravo Farms, the quintessence of roadside attractions along Highway 99.
Florence Avenue is one of those lovely and modest, in the word's best sense, neighborhoods where anyone in his right mind would yearn to reside.
Something so rare in these parts as a new trail is to be celebrated, cherished and, most of all, used.
I stumbled upon some human bones the other day. No, I was not out in "secluded" woods. No, I did not alert the authorities to what overheated TV news anchors always call a "grim discovery." And, no, I did not freak out in the...
Cowboy lore saturates this spiffed-up Old West town, found in every leather-scented saddlery and turquoise-laden gift shop, but especially among the chaps-to-spur-lined walls of the Desert Caballeros Western Museum.
NORTH SHORE, SALTON SEA I have turned the company car east toward Mecca, hoping it will serve as my portal into the palace of potassium that is the International Banana Museum.
Daytime drags on Mane Street in Pioneertown. Time elongates and lassos your ambition, rustles it down in the dusty street and leaves you spent and enervated in the post-meridian quiet.
So, apparently, my body, or "carbon unit," is running dangerously low at the cellular level. Unless I "change frequencies" in my electromagnetic field, I will die, someday.