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We’re glad Léna Garcia, whose mother found her name on a gravestone in Paris, didn’t shred her passport in the Netherlands this summer because we needed her to come back to run the newsroom, which she did without flinching after only three weeks on the job.
Camie Barnwell has written about Fiesta for nearly 20 years and says her unflagging interest comes from a love of most all things Spanish.
Gustavo Uribe, The Indy‘s classical reviewer, brought his father, Gustavo Uribe, on staff to write in the Real Estate section as the Gardenator, an uninhibited dispenser of gardening wisdom for these parched times.
Chloe Bee Ciccati took her dad on a camping trip among the redwoods for Father’s Day not too long ago, and they brought along their favorite reading matter.
“Carrot tops for a carrot top!” exclaimed Alex Melton, when we asked why she’s got a bouquet garni in her hair and is holding what looks like a bunch of circumcised vegetables.
Sawyer Tower Stewart’s parents have dubbed her the Milk Lord of Milpas Hill.
They loved them in Ljubljana. ArtBark’s production in Slovenia of Alma.Sama won such acclaim that the theater company was invited to the neighboring Festival Velenje and back to the Cankarjev Dom next year.
People can be forgiven for thinking Trixie the Angry Poodle is The Indy‘s totemic icon, but we’re really mostly in a Homer Simpson frame of mind, and we like to think we’re all “mostly balanced,” too — well, except when it comes to donuts and oil spills.
We dropped by our new arts editor’s office to get some caption information for this spot, but instead we found that Bruce the Dog, aka Mr. Wiggles, had taken over her desk and seemed a little uncertain over his elevation of status.
While Matt Kettmann was battling for survival out in the Sespe Wilderness (see p. 25), our fearless senior editor also fed about a zillion biting midges
