Deborah Paul

Grandmas enjoy a more casual relationship with their grandkids than they used to, one that I’ve been fortunate to develop myself.

More than 100 judges from the likes of Esquire, Bon Appetit, and Vanity Fair narrowed the field of finalists, including these from IM’s 2013 issues.

The Star has more local stuff than it once did, I’ll grant you that, and much of it is good. Sometimes, though, you must get desperate to fill space, as with the piece you ran about a deer beaten on the head with a hammer on I-70.

It was then I realized how lonely I was without a pet. For the first time in my 60-plus years, there was no dog or cat to greet me at the door and warm my lap, no adoring creature to nurture and feed, no nonjudgmental soul to whom I could pour out my heart.

We’ve become accustomed to leaving the bed with what appears to be a temporary crime-scene drawing of our bodies imprinted on the mattress.

Mary was critically ill, and although she had implored her family not to worry me, they decided I needed to know. All I wanted was to climb in bed beside her, lay my head on her shoulder, and cry, but I didn’t.

Until recently, I was unacquainted with Walmart on a personal level, unless you count my son having been fired from his high-school job stocking the candy aisle for declining to work on the night of the first Passover seder.

I found my favorite authors and slid my fingers along the spines of books I yearned to read. And not just read, but buy, hold in my hands, and, when finished, tuck onto a shelf, mine to remember and admire for all time.

I find the first stage of a remodel much like surgery, in that once you agree, there is no time to second-guess.

The fact is, our lifestyles have changed. We do not live at Downton Abbey, and there are no servants—thank heavens—to polish trays and tip silver teapots.

To clear the air, know that I did not vote for your husband. Either time. But I believe in your fight against childhood obesity—make that obesity in general—and think I have a new tool for your toolbox.

For those who dream of taking the plunge, a guide to buying your Indiana lake home. Plus, a primer on renting, for those just testing the waters—featuring Wawasee, Monroe, Michigan, Tippecanoe, Patoka, and more.

You are widely known for browbeating would-be chefs, but since I am more of a traveler than a foodie, I prefer Hotel Hell, the show on which you visit inns and browbeat the owners. Watching you zip yourself into a sleeping bag atop a questionable bed rather than risk the dirty linens was a hoot, as was seeing you scrunched up, knees skyward, in a too-small tub.

A mode of transport can provide more uses than the manufacturer intended—and not all of them are risque.

From The Libertine to Recess and Oakleys to Bluebeard, Korean to Latin and sushi to steak, our critics choose the cream of Indy’s dining crop.