An American Ebola survivor has donated blood to help an infected U.S. doctor fight the deadly disease. Dr. Richard Sacra, missionary with the group SIM, received a “convalescent serum” created from plasma donated by former Ebola patient Dr. Kent Brantly, officials at the Nebraska Medical Center...
ABC News Butter and Black Pepper, a Steak's Best Friends ABC News 2 tablespoons coarsely ground black pepper. 6 tablespoons butter, divided. 24 ounces new potatoes, halved. Season the steaks on both sides with salt.
Michigan parent Kelli Stapleton recently pled guilty to poisoning her autistic teen daughter Issy. According to police reports, Kelly lured Issy into a van, "drugged her, lit the grills and left the van to get more charcoal while her sleeping daughter breathed in poisonous carbon monoxide fumes." Kelli and Issy both survived the attempted murder-suicide.
This week marks the twentieth anniversary of the passage of the Violence Against Women Act. This historic law dramatically changed the way domestic violence, sexual assault, and crimes against women are handled and prosecuted across our country.
Turns out, there’s an optimal time to make decisions every day — and it depends on whether you’re a morning person or not. Recent research proves that you’re just a better person at certain times of the day.
Apple cider margarita recipe Ingredients: 3 tablespoons coarse sugar 3 tablespoons cane sugar 3 tablespoons cinnamon Orange wedges 1 cup ice, plus more for serving 2 ounces orange juice 12 ounces apple cider 2 ounces Grand Marnier 2 ounces gold...
Japanese rice updates the tired old stuffed pepper Grand Island Independent We started by ditching the ground beef in favor of chicken, then replaced the flavorless white rice with the more robust japonica, a colorful Japanese variety.
by Dan Nosowitz Before eating many fruits and some vegetables, some people—bad, or perhaps ignorant people—do something which renders the produce less tasty, less colorful, less texturally interesting, and much less nutritious.
Over the weekend, I was finishing up some dishes while my two-year-old daughter played quietly in her room. Without warning, she burst into the kitchen and asked me a question that would send any reasonable parent of a potty training toddler into a full-fledged freakin' panic: "Where is my poop, momma?"
I’m not fighting cancer. Even though there’s a grade 3 tumor in my breast, vaguely star-shaped and roughly the size of a quarter. Even though some of my lymph nodes are potentially conspiring against me. Even though I’m about to have a mastectomy, and eventually chemo.
I’m not fighting — I’m surrendering. To the complete unknown. To the random. To my body. To people. To science. To holy shit there is nothing I can do. To God.