Author Archives: Bronwyn Wilson

We Don’t Have Wild Parties (Often)

You would definitely want to ask these party-goers for a damage deposit. I hope the cat with the lampshade on his head has a designated driver.

You would definitely want to ask these party-goers for a damage deposit. I hope the cat with the lampshade on his head has a designated driver. (Or is that a flower pot?)

“I’ve added a $100 deposit to your bill. It will be returned to you when you check out, provided there isn’t any damage to your room,” says the front desk clerk at the Kohl’s Ranch Lodge in Payson, Arizona.

I reply in a kidding way, “We don’t have any wild parties planned. However, we are celebrating our wedding anniversary. Even so, we’ll probably not damage the room.”

The clerk, a woman in her twenties, smirks as if to say, “We’ll see how well you behave after we check your room upon departure.” read more

What You Don’t Expect at a Mexican Restaurant (or maybe you do!)

healing

Last night I sat at a booth in a Mexican restaurant with two girlfriends, whom ~ for the purposes of their protection ~ I’ll call Sunshine and Sunflower.

We chatted away, munching on tortilla chips, and laughing at our good fortune of enjoying girlfriend therapy, which is so much cheaper than other kinds of therapy. Not to mention, so much safer. (Insanity is not good for the health of others.) Besides, what professional counselor lets you chomp on tortilla chips and salsa during a counseling session? read more

The Nights I Waltzed in My Orange Muu Muu

Seated in the doctor’s lobby, I fill out the medical forms inquiring every aspect of my health history. That done, I flip through a magazine called Phoenix Home and Garden. I get lost in the pictures of gorgeous gardens with waterfalls and gurgling fountains and pergolas smothered in lush green vines. Finally, I’m called.

The doctor, a nice-looking young man who could easily moonlight as a fashion model for Esquire, glances over my forms.

“You have insomnia?”

“I had insomnia,” I say, “I’m not dealing with it now.” (Insomnia had nothing to do with the reason I was seeing the doctor. But he wanted to focus on it.) read more

If Snakes Slither Through the Crack in the Cabin Door and Slide into the Red, Heart-Shaped Hot Tub, I’m Outta Here

Prospectors in the 1800s camped at Big Bug Creek in search of gold.

Prospectors in the 1800s camped at Big Bug Creek in search of gold. Giant insects attacked one group of prospectors in 1863, thus the name Big Bug Creek~as the story goes (which I read online).

“I want to go home,” I tell Jerry. “It’s creepy here. I hear monkeys outside.”

“Aw, c’mon. Have fun. I’m having fun. Be adventurous.”

It’s a little before sunset and we’re inside Cabin #4 on Big Bug Creek.

When we checked in at the front desk at the main lodge, I asked the clerk if he knew why the creek is named Big Bug Creek. I hoped he would calm my apprehensions of mammoth bugs waiting for us in our cabin.

The clerk, a sixtyish gentleman wearing gray slacks hoisted by suspenders, answered without making eye contact. “I have no idea,” he said. “We have no big bugs. Now, please read this form and sign it.” read more

The Big Bugs at Big Bug Creek Better Not Touch My Coffee

This is how we cool off in Arizona.

This is how we cool off in Arizona.

I’m looking forward to Wednesday when the temperature plunges to the heavenly temperature of 111-degrees. According to our local news, Sunday’s 118 temperature is the fifth-hottest day recorded in Phoenix since the beginning of time.

With the threat of another scorching hot day predicted, Jerry and I wake as the Arizona sun makes its appearance for the proverbial crack of dawn. We hope to get some shopping done before high noon when the street’s asphalt bubbles and boils. Bubbling asphalt can be hard on the tires. read more