Kevin is the Napa Valley Register's city editor. His personal column about the adventures of everyday life in Napa runs every Sunday.
You can get more than you bargained for when you go shopping in Napa, says columnist Kevin Courtney.
A half million Americans injure themselves in ladder falls annually. Cheryl worries I will be one of them.
When your water line ruptures, say goodbye to normalcy. This is an instant crisis.
There's magic in grandbabies. Did you know this?
Cheryl went looking for holiday meal inspiration in the wrong place.
Home ownership is not for the faint of heart. Things are always breaking, leaking, clogging, peeling.
Columnist Kevin Courtney is thrilled by rain's arrival, and that's putting it mildly.
I must live a dull life, thus my obsession with Turkey Trot, the race held in Davis the Saturday before Thanksgiving. It’s not just my ultimate holiday event. It’s the best thing I do all year.
We thought we’d won the “rat war” in September when we deployed a high-tech trap that dispensed a lethal dose of electricity. On the first night, we zapped a one-pounder who’d been rampaging through our attic for a month.
Napa Journal columnist Kevin Courtney writes about country music this week.
Check out the latest installment of Napa Journal by Kevin Courtney.
“Historically” strong winds were forecast last weekend. Another big power shutdown was set for Saturday evening.
I cried when Bambi’s mother died. I haven’t cried for a deer since.
I ask not for your pity, but my car and I have been going through some hard times since last spring’s garage ouster.
I hate cold showers. Didn’t like them in the army, like them even less now.
Having once killed a rat with my bare hands, I thought I knew a thing or two about ridding a home of vermin.
Call me obtuse, but I thought I was healthy. I missed the warning signs.
Our breakfasts are better than ever these days. While eating Cheerios, we watch the Helena show on Instagram.
A neighbor wandered over last weekend and observed that I was still going full-bore on my porch project.
What would get me out of the office, bound for San Francisco, on a Wednesday morning?
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Cheryl and I both work 40-hour-a-week jobs, then we come home and Cheryl does all the cooking.
How quiet is my street most weekends? So quiet that cats have been known to wander onto the warm asphalt for a little snooze and not get flattened.
Body parts can fail without warning. Working one moment, malfunctioning the next.
Not to get all paranormal, but when I visit Napa Valley Expo these days I see ghosts.
Anyone returning to Napa after being away for a decade or so would be stunned by the changes around Soscol Avenue.
When we scheduled our four-day July “vacation,” things were deliberately left loosey-goosey. We intended to wake up each morning and make plans on the spot.
Remember when the city made downtown’s one-way streets two-way and some people freaked?
Two years ago, I ventured north to Lake Shasta to meet Cheryl’s two best friends from her Southern California childhood.
A person had better suck it up before attempting the long-haul drive from Napa to Los Angeles with minimal pit stops.
Cheryl drifted off last Saturday into the la-la world of wine tasting while I hung back and did such mundane tasks as refill the barbecue’s propane tank and whack encroaching raspberry canes.
Compared to the minimal greenhouse gas impacts of a family living in rural India or Botswana, Cheryl and I are environmental monsters.
Last weekend’s scorching temperatures, not to mention dirty air from the wildfire in Yolo County and the threat of PG&E pulling the plug, took their toll on the Courtney household.
You work next to someone for 20 years and you think you know them, but do you really?
We missed out on BottleRock this year. Our living room held us captive.
Going into fire season, Cheryl and I are in a mild funk.
Lucky Cheryl. All three of her children made the pilgrimage home for Mothers Day.
Cheryl recently began reviewing options for wall-to-wall carpeting for our living room makeover.
Two weeks ago I wrote a column lamenting Napa’s worsening congestion. The column was a laundry list of my favorite traffic gripes.
Wherever you look, there are pretty trees blooming their fool heads off this spring.
I drive several times a year to my periodontist in Vallejo for a cleaning and exam. Been doing it for maybe 20 years.
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I won’t forget the date. It was Feb. 13, a Wednesday.
I agree, the optics aren’t great. It looks as if Cheryl and I frittered away an entire year.
Most parents are ultra vigilant about safeguarding their children.
Century Napa Valley doesn’t get much business from me. I like small movies on small screens.
There is a possible serious downside to writing this column. It may label me as an all-time office crank.
Wouldn’t we all like to have figured out our income taxes by now and have big fat refunds coming our way?
Chaos reigned at my house last Monday morning.
I’m an asphalt-loving guy. How else to explain the joy I experienced in June 2010 while covering a paving celebration in north Napa.
A year ago this month my neck locked up. Practically overnight, I lost the ability to look over my shoulders. Even changing positions at night on my pillow became painful.
Jonquils, lilies of the valley, daffodils, quince — all of them began to flower in our yard before January ended.
Morning routines at the Courtney household are carefully calibrated affairs. Merely switching cars for the day can create chaos.
I was excited to finally meet my 3-month-old granddaughter for the first time. Then again, the drive from Napa to Long Beach is a long haul to view a kid who’s all flopsy and can’t even begin to say your name.
The new Netflix series, “Tidying Up With Marie Kondo,” has the power of revelation.
One definition of bliss is snuggling up at home on a rainy day and indulging in books or movies or whatever it is we don’t normally have time for.
My brother Joe in Indiana visited Napa just once. The year was 1973. When he died in October, he had gone 45 years without making a return trip.
This has been an unexceptional year. The Courtney family’s daily routines of 2017 continued through 2018. No changes in jobs, homes or cars. No health drama. This column managed to appear on each of 52 consecutive Sundays.
There’s an upstairs to our house — two bedrooms, a rec room and a bath — that I won’t go anywhere near.
My annual moment of athletic glory, the Davis Turkey Trot, got postponed three weeks due to bad air from the Butte County megafires.
My former Napa Valley Register cohort Doug Ernst is facing a medical calamity. He was diagnosed last summer with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, better known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. By October, when he sent out emails notifying the world of his situation, he needed a power wheelchair. Now he…
I’ve never held Long Beach in high regard. It’s ranked near the bottom of places that I would want to visit on a SoCal vacation.