Carlson

These cabinets are so out of style, they’re scary. Photo by: Nancy Carlson

John Carlson: Redoing The, Gulp, Kitchen

By: John Carlson— After 36 years of marriage, I have finally figured out what separates the women from the men, the ladies from the gents, the chicks from the dudes, the babes from the … well, you get it. Redoing your kitchen. Greg, our neighbor and head guy from Richard’s…

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An Australian racing barstool rests, nearly obscured, in Lear Unlimited. Photo by: John Carlson

John Carlson: Little Racer Packed a Punch

By: John Carlson— If you are under the misguided notion that playing football is the optimum way to suffer a brain-rattling concussion, you’ve probably never driven an Australian racing barstool. I, on the other hand, have. This was due to the largesse of the folks at Lear Unlimited over in…


Properly employed, ugly sweat pants work like a calorie counter. Photo by: Nancy Carlson

John Carlson: A New Cool Food Tool

By: John Carlson— If you’re like me, engaged in that never-ending fight against flab, you know how handy it can be to keep track of caloric intake by simply jotting down notes recording your food consumption. Feeling a little bloated, but can’t imagine why? Consulting your notes may remind you…


If you could read my screech, love, what a tale the notes would tell...Photo by: Nancy Carlson

John Carlson: Too Late To Be A Troubadour

By: John Carlson— The other day I heard a terrible screeching, kind of like a cat in heat, that made my proverbial skin crawl. Then I realized it was me, singing. This amazed me, because there was a time when my voice was pretty good. Back in high school, for…


Swedish meatballs on rice with some lingonberry jam. Photo by: Nancy Carlson

John Carlson: Having A (Meat) Ball

By: John Carlson— Not long ago, my wife met my daughter down at Indy’s new IKEA store for some female bonding while shopping. Unfortunately, I was unable to join them there amongst the frantic bustling of the excited shopping hordes, mostly because I’d have rather been dead. I must say,…


Pie Face! Racks up yet another innocent victim. Photos by: Jimmy Hayes

John Carlson: Kids Games Not The Same

By: John Carlson— When I was a kid, I spent a fair number of rainy day hours playing jacks and pick-up sticks. Remember them? My Mom’s old pick-up sticks were stored in a cylindrical cardboard container at my grandfolks’ house, the skinny sticks being about a foot long and pointed…


A veteran's grave at Beech Grove cemetery. Photo by: Mike Rhodes

John Carlson: A Day to Thank Veterans

By: John Carlson— Do you believe in ghosts? I do, to a point. Maybe not the malevolent kind who supposedly haunt your house or your life, though I believe the occasional good scare is beneficial to one’s constitution. But there’s another kind of ghost, a far more positive kind ……