I Hoped For Pancakes, But Got Marriage Counseling

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It’s 11 a.m. and I’m thinking about pancakes. I’m at the new, just-opened Denny’s in Maricopa, Arizona. This is not the average run-of-the-mill Denny’s that many of you might be familiar with. This is like Strawberry Shortcake Denny’s with pink and red striped awnings and cherry red neon lights spelling out breakfast and lunch. Maricopa doesn’t have a real-life, well-known, sit-down chain restaurant. Maricopa offers lots of fast-food joints where you scream your order at the cashier behind the counter. You scream because the teenage employees have cranked-up the music so loud your head hurts. read more

My Beloved Slippers (sob, snivel, snurp)

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I had no idea of the anguish ahead of me. After all, the room had a beguiling allure of happy color and Mexican art with a beautifully tiled bathroom.

The bathroom had color but no hot water.

But my room on the second floor of the Hotel Trébol in Oaxaca City had a flaw. It didn’t have hot water.

Our Compassion Mexico Sponsor Tour stayed in several hotels while traveling in Oaxaca and its outskirts in January of this year. After staying two nights, we left the Hotel Trébol for other hotels, with plans to return for our final three nights. As soon as we checked back in at the Trébol, I requested a different room. read more

You Don’t Need A Purpose

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Several hundred smiling Mexican children line the pathway. They shake pink and blue balloons with the same kind of a vigor you’d expect from too much caffeine. As we hike up the path, the children greet us, one by one, with handshakes and hugs. We trek along the cheerful pathway of bouncing balloons and happy children toward a huge arching banner with the words “Bienvenidos” (welcome).

Our greeting feels like heaven.

This is how I expect heaven will be ~ a jubilant greeting of happiness and joy full of children and colorful balloons.  Perhaps heaven will be a little warmer, as my three sweatshirts did not keep me warm. read more

I’m in my pajamas and it’s after midnight (and life goes haywire)

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“I think I need to go to the hospital,” Jerry says to me. “I’m having chest pains and they’re not going away.”

I’m in my pajamas and it’s after midnight. I had stayed up to read my book (When A Crocodile Eats the Sun).

I go down the list of heart attack symptoms. “Does it feel like an elephant is stepping on your chest?”

“No,” he says, “it’s periodic stabbing pain that comes and goes.”

“Trouble breathing? Pain radiating down your arm?”

“No, but my breathing is shallow when I have the stabbing pain….Ohhhhhyeeech, there’s another one.” Jerry puts his hand over his heart. I suggest calling 911. “No, just drive me,” he insists. I throw on some sweat pants and grab my keys. read more

My Bed Traumatized Me

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I thought the list “Things to Do Every Day” might improve my life. I found it in an article online and copied it down. First on the list: “Make the bed. If you do it first thing, you start with a win.”

This completely contradicts what I heard at a writer’s workshop. The leader said, “Make time to write. Don’t make the bed. Use that time to write. Who cares if your bed is made?”

I wanted more time to write. Yahoo. I would stop making the bed.

Yet, the idea of not making the bed bothered me. I had made the bed every day since my childhood. But Jerry didn’t seem to mind the bed in a chaotic upheaval of bedraggled blankets. Actually, the cats loved the explosion of sheets and blankets and nestled in it. read more