Author Archives: Bronwyn Wilson

“BLAHHHHHHHH, BLAHHHHHHH, BLAHHHHHH.”

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Surprises can be around any corner, such as this mural on the side of a building in Prescott.

Surprises can be around any corner, such as this mural on the side of a building in downtown Prescott.

This calm scene is the view from our table before I had to run for my life.

This calm scene is the view from our table a few moments before I had to run for my life.

The alarm sounded last Monday as I enjoyed lunch in a Prescott cafe with Jerry and my sister Jodee. I had just bit into a luscious, crumbly cherry scone when the blasting, earsplitting, teeth-jolting noise interrupted the moment of cherry deliciousness.

“BLAHHHHHHHH, BLAHHHHHHH, BLAHHHHHH.”

I put my hands over my ears, as did many of the other customers in the cafe. The fire alarm kept blaring, “BLAHHHH, BLAHHHHHHHHHHHHH” and blasted so loudly the dishes on the tables shook. I didn’t smell smoke. I didn’t see flames licking the walls. I decided we had a false alarm and someone would turn it off and all would be well again, albeit with less hearing ability.  Instead, the alarm continued as customers in nearby tables calmly pushed back their chairs, stood and joined a mass exodus heading out the front door. What?! We need to leave the building? My sense of survival suddenly kicked into gear. If this is for real, I’m not sticking around while the burning roof collapses on our heads. Look out everyone, I’m getting out of here! Jerry slowly followed behind with his coffee mug in hand, strolling as casual as anyone not worried about the searing pain of being singed to a crisp. Jodee exited casually as well, thankfully with both my purse and hers in hand. (Thank you Jodee. I’m grateful for your quick-thinking.) All the customers and restaurant staff stood in the parking lot, grateful to  be alive. Soon, we we’re notified the danger had passed and we were ushered back inside. As we took our seats back at our table, a fire truck pulled into the parking lot. If this had been a real fire, the firemen would have arrived in time to see a smoking pile of ashes that was once a cafe. read more

Some Things I’ve Learned in Life

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1. Don’t regret. Instead, think egret. It’s much healthier to think of birds with distinctive white plumage than regret some of the stupid things you may have done when you were younger. And egrets, by the way, don’t give you a lot of guilt.

Don't regret. Think egret instead.

Don’t regret. Think egret instead.

2. Don’t worry. This is a futile exercise like regret. So rather than imagine the worst regarding your spouse, child, or dog who isn’t home at the proper time, make a point to redirect your thoughts to elegant birds in the heron family. read more

Compromise Is Overrated

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It's 107 outside. Inside I'm watching Downton Abbey Christmas, entranced by the tree.

It’s 107 outside… and inside, I’m watching Downton Abbey Christmas, singing Christmas carols with them and entranced by their tree.

I’m in the desert and it’s 107 outside, a climate enjoyable only to cactus and lizards.

With that said, I’m thinking of Christmas trees.  I just finished watching Downton Abbey Season 5 and fell agog at the sight of the Christmas tree featured in the last episode. It’s the Christmas tree of Christmas trees, a dazzling, regal spectacle of fairytale lights and ornaments. It towers twenty or thirty feet tall at least.

Jerry and I have had differing opinions on Christmas trees over the years. He wants the kind of small fake tree you pull out of a box, stick on a table, and plug in. I prefer the whole ritual of riding our horse-driven sleigh out to the woods to chop one down. Although that could prove difficult here in the desert, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility while residing in Washington state. I envision the joy of finding our special tree, bringing it home, turning on the Christmas carols, slurping mugs of hot chocolate~and together Jerry and I hum Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree and do a few high leg kicks in between our “ooohs” and “ahhhhs” at the tree’s beauty. read more

Time Stands Still Where the Pool Noodles Are

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Camelback Inn, Scottsdale, Arizona

The words below the clock read: “Where time stands still” at the Camelback Inn, Scottsdale, Arizona.

Where time stands still.

These words greet you as you enter the Camelback Inn in Scottsdale. The words, posted on the hotel’s exterior above the lobby, assure hotel guests they will enjoy themselves so much they will never look at their watch. At least that’s what I took away from it.

You probably remember the times where time stood still for you~your first kiss (thank you Pete Martin); your first car (beep, beep, the hey-everyone-I-have-a-new-car excitement); and all the everyday moments when time stops because you’re so engaged in the moment you forget about the clock. Like when you’re at Starbucks chatting with your girlfriends, in deep conversation about the Kardashians. Oh, okay, you don’t chat about the Kardashians at Starbucks and neither do I, but you know what I mean. read more

No regrets! Well, maybe a few

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I regret not telling you sooner that I have a personally autographed photo of the Cartwrights. Such an exciting aspect of my life that I've kept hidden until now.

I regret not telling you sooner that I have a personally autographed photo of the Cartwrights. Such an exciting aspect of my life that I’ve kept hidden until now.

A friend once said to me, “I make it a policy to never regret.” She said this after I asked how she liked her new living situation of sharing a home with her friend. When I told Jerry about her reply to me, he said, “Ohh! She regrets.”

Whether we admit it or not, we all have regrets. Of course, it’s best to move on and not dwell on what-could-have-been.

I regret very few things in my life. That said, here are the ones I do.

1. I regret taking showers in 7th grade P.E.  Why did I feel I had to submit to authority and strip naked? I really didn’t exercise that much, so I didn’t need a shower. No matter. I was forced to stand in line au naturel with other junior high girls, all of us dripping wet while holding a towel the size of a toilet paper square. The P.E. teachers checked us over to make sure we showered.  If we weren’t wet to their satisfaction, we were sent back to the showers. I regret I didn’t go to a parochial school where no one had to get naked for any of their teachers. read more