Hello. Chappell Roan’s music defines the queer experience in the most cunty girly pop pink fairy princess sort of way. And I love it. Let me tell you why… But first, a little intro. Chappell Roan, originally from Willard, Missouri, where she grew up Kayleigh Rose Amstutz, had a rather conventional Midwestern upbringing before catapulting into the pop music limelight. Her small-town roots and the traditional values surrounding her during her formative years play a significant role in the authenticity and depth of her music.

If you’ve read this blog, you’ve heard the phrase “Grimm’s Law.” A few months ago, I contrasted Grimm’s Law with a similar shift consonant shift in Armenian. It was too long, and it was somehow both too academic and too cute. Thus, I wanted to write a new piece that explained Grimm’s Law while removing all the other crap. Here is that piece. Let’s start with some basics. It’s not a law.

We just wrapped up choux month in Playing Around // xoxo Dorie — look at what we baked together! Bonjour! Bonjour! Am I the last person on the planet to discover the joys of the Atlantic Beach Pie made famous by Bill Smith at Crook’s Corner in Chapel Hill, North Carolina? I’m thinking I might be. I’m also thinking I might not have ever come around to it had Mary Dodd not mentioned how much she loved the recipe for it that’s in Cheryl Day’s newest cookbook, Cheryl Day’s Treasury of Southern Baking.

An earlier version of this article misstated the first name of John Holmberg. We regret the error. During two separate on-air broadcasts, a popular morning show host used his time to compare the Pride flag to a Ku Klux Klan flag, say gay male couples were “bad gays” for living in rural areas, and tokenize another gay staff member and asked him if it was better to be “straight or poor.

As Prince Edward, the Duke of Edinburgh, turns 60 today, I want to share a story about his sporting enthusiasm—and his character and personality—that has never been told before. It involves my husband, Stephen G. Smith, who wrote a feature for The New Yorker magazine in 1991 about the venerable and complicated racquet sport known as court tennis in the United States and real tennis in Britain.  Stephen’s account of the match they played was meant to be the surprise ending of the article, but it was cut in the editing.