News you can use
News you can use
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Consider this to be as though you accidentally tuned into the cooking channel. The difference is that I’ll tell you about the mistakes I made along the way. When Uncle Lee retired from being a fireman in Indianapolis, he and Aunt Joanne bought an Airstream trailer in which they spent every winter, lolling in the Florida Keys. This was back when cars were built as sturdily as ocean liners and were almost as big. I picture my aunt and uncle rolling down the highway, in the t...
After all my bragging about all the lovely rain we’ve been having, day after day after day, this past week we’ve been dry as a desiccated bone in the desert. I’ve been floored with a couple wet exceptions. Saturday morning I woke up with puddles on my bathroom floor, around the toilet. Easy to figure out where that water was dripping, from tank to tile. Josue, our resident plumber, electrician, fix-all man, is still in California. Leo looked at the tank and, wisely, said...
Here I am again, sitting at my computer, staring at a blank page of paper that’s not real paper, waiting for inspiration to write, to share with you, the latest happenings in my real life. And one of the most real things that occurs to me is guilt. I feel guilty. Real good ol’ Catholic guilt. Let’s take the little things first. Every day it rains, here on the high plateau surrounded with mountains in central Mexico. Beginning in June, through July and now into August. The e...
After our mutual agreement last week that Ariel’s car with Four-in-the-Floor and not enough wiggle room would not be a good car for my needs, Ariel went on the search for the “Right” car. Ariel’s morning routine includes a strong coffee, sweet roll, and Guadalajara newspaper at the Oxxo out on the highway. The Oxxo is a convenience store with the usual. You could walk in the door and feel right at home. The sweet roll might be a disappointment because Mexican sweet rolls,...
“Mom, are you having a mid-life crisis?” asked my daughter. “I can’t have a mid-life crisis. I’m too old.” “Last week a dog. This week a car. What are you thinking?” It wasn’t really even my own idea. When I first moved to Mexico, I lived in Mazatlan, a large city with excellent public transportation. I soon realized I didn’t need a car. Buses and pulmonias and taxis were easy, cheap to use, and could get me anywhere I wanted to be. It’s not the same here in Etzatlan, but...
If only I could live my life over knowing what I now know? Well, guess what. If you woke up this morning still breathing, you can indeed. Live your life over. Start right now. What? You think you need a special invite? A ticket? An epiphany? I’m not preaching to the choir here. I’m preaching to myself. After a miserable few days of standing knee deep in the mud of an alligator swamp, of feeling like I should be more Important, like I should be Special, maybe better edu...
You know how I love the rains, right? As with grandchildren, I love them more when they behave. You know. Sunshine days and rain in the early evenings. Another morning listening to rain pound down while the stupid birds are singing at the top of their lungs, “Here comes the sun.” Stupid birds. There is a lesson in here somewhere. After a leisurely trip visiting relatives along the route from Mexico to Minnesota, John and Carol wrote that they are home, having been towed the...
My back yard is full of baby doves foraging. Worms? Could be any number of bugs. They have a huge, juicy selection. All sizes, all colors. Last night we had a Bing-Bang-Boom-Jingle-Jangle-Whoop of a storm, precursor to rains tonight, all courtesy of Hurricane Enrique. I had to get up in the night and put rugs in front of the door and towels on the window sills to soak up the water. Did I tell you my house is anything but tight? When I went out to survey my kingdom I found a...
To the tune of “Just Another Manic Monday,” the rains, they came, “just another rainy Monday,” Tuesday, Wednesday. Every day, the rains, they came. I’ve no idea why that old tune came to me. There certainly is nothing manic about my life. I am the definition of life-in-the-slow-lane. Sunday, for the first time in a year and a half, I went out to lunch at a restaurant, the Etza Grill in town. Ate a meal I didn’t prepare myself. Sat with friends at a table and added laughter to...
“Ba ba ba ba boom. Take me in your lovin’ arms and never let me go. Whisper to me softly while the moon is low.” I woke in the night with the inimitable voice of Jo Stafford as she swayed in her chiffon dress, singing at the mike, complete with the “Ba ba ba ba booms,” the band members behind her, all in handsome suits, well, handsome for that nugget in time. “Hold me close and tell me what I wanna know; Say it to me gently, let the sweet talk flow.” Remember when all the...
Funny how some things never change. Remember back in school days when you had a big test coming up? Perhaps you went to bed worried and woke queasy, not wanting breakfast? I’m sure we all approached tests differently yet we each felt tinges of apprehension, dreadlocks of fear? I did well on tests, especially essay tests. I disliked multiple choice, gambler’s choice, because I had a tendency to overthink the possibilities. I could generally reason out how A, B, C and D cou...
A couple thousand years ago, somebody famous, broadly paraphrased, said, we do things we know aren’t good for us (or for others) and don’t do the things we know to be good. Well, what can I say? The shoe fits. Oh, I can always say more. Not only do I do what’s not good for me, but I lie to myself and convince myself that it doesn’t really matter. I’ve worked hard at catching myself and changing my mind before rip-roaring into action. About 40 years of hard work. And it is hard...
When I moved to Mexico, one of the first things I learned was to check inside my shoes before inserting feet. Evidently that is a popular hiding place, nesting site, attack barricade for scorpions. Next, I was told, never go barefoot. Not outside. Not inside. Thus, my night sandals live at bedside. One thing I can tell you for sure, if you’ve never in your life seen a scorpion, when you first see one, you will know exactly what it is, no doubts. Same as when you first hear a...
I am a blade of grass. When I don’t have water I turn brown, crisp, wither into the ground. I lie dormant until such time as rains come. I am the same as a blade of grass — except that I can reach for water. My cousin, that blade of withered grass, can send its roots only so far into the ground until it hits bedrock or can grow no further. On second thought, I am a blade of grass. It rained. You would have thought Christmas, Easter, the Fourth of July, and my birthday all cam...
We Americans are so tethered to our cars. It’s as though there is an umbilical cord between our brains and the ignition switch. When I first moved to Mexico, driving my vehicle stuffed to the roof with bare essentials, I lived in the fair-sized city of Mazatlan. In the first six months, I drove my van exactly one time. Public transportation in most of Mexico is good, easy and inexpensive. I was there on a six-month tourist visa so my trusty van and I had to exit Mexico. On r...
We are one week plus days past our second vaccination shots and feeling great. Carol said, “I wonder if the syringe had anything in it. Ben sent me a cartoon, unsigned, so I’ve no idea the artist. It depicts a stick figure saying, “Hi. I’m here to visit!” From behind an open door, “Do I know you?” “No. It’s cool. I’m two weeks past my second dose.” Below is a blurb: Remember, once you’re fully vaccinated, the CDC says you’re free to visit other people’s houses. Well, it...
I was going to write about the morning symphony, featuring “Variations on a Theme at Sunrise” with Bell-ringing Bird on timpani. This music assured me that the huge black cloud in the western sky was not a slow-moving tornado but a cloud of smoke coming from the landfill, recently plagued by brush fires. I was going to write about “The Rule of Three,” a phenomenon in my family that mechanical failings trundle down the line in triplicate, always. This past week my washing...
I’d been out of bed five minutes when I heard the clang-rang of my gate bell. We respect each other’s boundaries. When neighbors visited, they stood out by the gate and yelled, “Sondra, are you home?” I’d lived here a year when I figured there must be a better early-warning system. At the tianguis in town I bought a goat bell. I had a welder make an arch and attach it to the gate so the bell would hang free. When I hear the bell, I go out to the gate and open it for my guests....
Some days I can’t lose for winning. Sunrise, up earlier than I wanted. I moped around, felt mildly depressed. Not real depression. Real depression is serious stuff. Me, I’m in sort of a down-in-the-dumps lite. Ice-cream for breakfast sounds good. Will ice-cream help? But my freezer is empty. I haven’t had ice-cream for weeks. Back in the easy-peasy days before COVID, I bought hand-packed ice-cream from a woman in town. But knowing precautions were loosely held in that tiend...
I used to have a photo of my Dad in his crisp uniform, just back from Overseas. “Overseas” is a lost word, known to us older folks. Dad was in the Army Air Force in WWII. I was eight months old when he got home. In the picture, Dad held me in one arm, me in my cloth coat with matching winter pants. In his other hand he held a cigarette. I don’t know what happened to the photo. My Dad had smoked since he was eight years old, rolling corn silk out behind the barn. He lived...
There is magic in my world. If I do not see it, it doesn’t matter. If I do see it, it doesn’t matter. Every day is a song. Yesterday’s music fell to earth, gone. Today’s voice is in the wind, the sky. You may listen. Or not hear. This morning I awoke to Cathedral bells, To bird song riding pale green sunrise. The first sight out my window, a western tanager Atop a cluster of new mango leaves, strange fruit. One moment. One moment of attention. I’m granted only moments....
True Montanans fully understand Virginia Woolf’s expression that “The future is dark, which is the best thing the future can be, I think.” We are trained from early times to know that sunny days won’t last, that rains likely fall when the hay is down in windrows, that ants infest every picnic. Not necessarily gloomy, but realistic. We are taught thusly. Here’s a different slant, OK. What I have come to believe, and Woolf’s quote fits perfectly, is that if we could see through...
It’s a paradox. Constancy — firm, steadfast, permanent, consistent, un-changing. We can count on something with the property or nature of constancy. One thing we can count on is change. Saturday I double-masked my face, and with my bottle of sanitizer in hand, went to town, for the second time in a year. The first time was three weeks ago for vaccination. While this later trip was not of ultimate necessity, I let impatience rule and set off for my favorite furniture store wit...
Because of the pandemic, health cautions and precautions, these past several days, I’ve found myself to be the only gringo in town, or to be precise, on the ranch. Tom and Janet drove their big yellow cargo van to Arizona for medical appointments and to bring back another load of belongings from storage. Lani and Ariel exited Etzatlan about when winter entered, gone off to lounge on a beach somewhere near Manzanillo. John and Carol, in a fit of stir-crazy, packed up their a...
Back in the olden days, in grade school, teachers used low-tech machines which made copies for all manner of school work, from pictures to color (don’t color out of the lines) to test questions. Teacher, most of whom we called Miss: Miss Brown, Miss Naomi, Miss Mary, would snap a stencil onto the drum of the machine. The slick paper, the stencil, and the ink combined to make an unforgettable sensory memory scent, sort of chemical alcohol. If you were Miss Brown, Miss Naomi o...
