Just Thinking…about Miracles and Friends

A few friends expressed that they wonder why I seem not to be in contact very much or responsive to their emails. My apologies.

I’d like to report that I just don’t have enough time to communicate between downing margaritas in Acapulco, jetting off to…

It’s Taco Tuesday.

10% off at Ross Dress for Less, if you are over fifty-five. I qualify.

As I check the nearest Mexican restaurants offering the Tuesday special, trying to align the ones with the least offending Yelp reviews near a Ross store, I hesitate. Should I spend money this…

“Tell us”, one of the two female students in the MBA program inquired, “how we will find noodles when we are in the US?”

I assured them they would find noodles.

“Eat whatever food presents itself”, I told them, encouraging them to eat American food just as later, I would…

Recently on a sunny Mexico day, I stayed after a group of writers I often join, had left. I wanted to chat with the friend who was hosting the session. I’ve seen her come a long way in her writing since I first met her, although clearly, I’m in little…

How I Learned About Car Sleeping

Back in the US from a year of enforced albeit ever so pleasant pandemic confinement in Mexico, I headed through flyover country. Comfortable and safe in my Prius, I searched for known and unknown sites and sights. …

Lizard Broth, Spider Eggs, and Marquez

Lizard broth and spider eggs have not been on any menus I have seen; however, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Colombia’s Nobel for Literature 1982 winner, learned to eat them before he was six.

I learned that bit of trivia when I visited an impressive remake…

If on a winter’s night, a traveler…no, no…that’s Italo Calvino’s latest book.

Let me start again.

If on a winter’s day, a professor…ah, yes, this one is me.

If on a winter’s day, a professor skids on ice past snowy partially covered gold domes to the wide and windy portico…

Even the trees suffering from crown shyness, an ailment I learned about recently, engulf me. Those beautiful, usually green creatures, looming above my head, enrapture me. Some like bristlecone pines, standing alone, bask in the sun while others reflect the sun’s rays. A few grab one another, shutting out new…

Remembering a Mother’s Dying Days

What if my memory of my mother’s dying is not accurate?

What if she didn’t die in a small, hilltop tuberculosis hospital in Southern Ohio? …

Barbara Cole, Ph.D.

Traveler (80 countries), Writer (fiction/nonfiction), Reader (unlimited), Manager(corporate/startups), Driver (2 dozen countries). Loves comedy, food, life.

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