And now the end is near, and so I face the final curtain.
After more than eight years in the best job a fellow could ever have, I am stepping away from my position as food writer for the Post-Dispatch. Let the wailing and the lamentations begin.
And then let them stop. I am going, but I am not going far. I figure it to be about 40 feet, more or less. If I lean forward in my chair, I can see where my new desk will be.
