If you are among the folk who do not believe in paranormal, mediums, psychics, tarot readers, and the lot, pass right on to the next read. I can appreciate your position.
Right up front, let me say that I do believe in them, some of them that is. My support for them is right along with how much I think I can trust all accountants to know the latest tax codes, all doctors to be familiar with comprehensive research about spinal nerve endings, or all teachers to move all little whatever his or her name is, on to the next…
“How’s Oscar doing?” I write in an email.
I was asking my friend about a challenging employee she has dealt with for years. I have never met the man and feel no need to do so, yet I find myself asking about him, his work performance, and his family situation. I’ve done this for the years she has known him.
I know not why.
I question her about people in her neighborhood, others she has mentioned encountering. Not all of them but many.
I have questioned myself about why I do this. Why are their lives of concern to me…
Nobody eats gulab jamun alone. You’re supposed to have a family, at least some friends, to share the experience.
But me, I eat it alone. Just like I consume about every meal.
For those who are unacquainted with this most delicious Indian dessert, go to YouTube or an internet site where you can see it, even learn how to make it. Better yet, go to your local Indian restaurant. After you have consumed a belly full of biryani, samosas and other delectables, experience this melt in your mouth dessert.
I confess I’m pretty happy not sharing the sweet dessert with…
Sa Ta Na Ma
A hefty auburn cow, protruding hump on its back and sporting two-inch horns, saunters beside me on my left. On my right, four nondescript dogs run back and forth along the wide beach, frolicking as only happy dogs do. One stops for a second in front of the cow as if to greet her, then continues with his friends. A crow dips into the water, missing his goal, a tiny scampering crab.
Sa-ta-na-ma I say. To myself.
Dawn is arriving on the Arabian Sea. We are among the few on the never crowded Goan beach.
Slouching over the kitchen sink, I glance up at the eight-foot Monstera deliciosa. The plant monster, commonly known as a Split-leaf philodendron, sprouting a new leaf, partially hides the three-tier fountain and the stone tower house next door. Stretching upward and outward, abutting my wide window, the plant grows. Often when washing dishes, I think of how I love this ever gently changing creature, all the while trying to change my attitude about my immediate task: dishwashing.
It’s that time again. Time to wash the dirty dishes, utensils, pots and pans.
I plug the sink, turn the faucet , drizzle…
A 72 Hour Visa Run Mid-Pandemic
Fresh roses surround the Virgen Guadalupe as she looks down on the travelers, me included.
I sit at the SMA Transportes San Miguel bus station on a Sunday morning, at the height of the pandemic. And the holiday week of Thanksgiving. Not a time to travel. Virus rates in the US continue to skyrocket. Mexico wins the award for having the most cases in the world. Previously, frequent travelers like me would scan a travel site, book reservations and be gone. Now, we develop new plans.
I feel I have little choice but to…
Yes, I confess. I eavesdrop.
No, not the kind where I try desperately to overhear my neighbor whispering to her lover. That’s pretty easy without trying, given the thin walls where I’ve been living recently.
And I’m not talking about the kind of eavesdropping the scullery maid hiding behind the linen closet enjoyed between the laundress and the butler in Downton Abbey or in an English mystery. I’m talking about the kind of eavesdropping you cannot help but hear, even when you do not want to listen to the prattle. …
Early food porn, arriving in a brown paper wrapper with my name and address at the bottom. I slid the latest Gourmet magazine from the wrapper, opened and turned it upside down, allowing advertising postcards to fall into the post office mailbox trash. A quick scan through it, I rushed. Opening other mail, usually business related, now I had an idea of which articles I’d read first.
These were not coffee shop reads or ones to inhale in company.
I wanted to be alone with Gourmet, just me and the columns, sneaking away from everyone and my responsibilities, cowering under…
Here I sit, in the garden of the Tower next to the casita where I live. In front of me are multiple items about which could be written entire stories, maybe even books. As I scan my surroundings, before I get to the dracaena, the wandering Jews climbing over the adobe walls, or before I confirm that a squirrel has not molested the pomegranates hanging overhead, I look at the wooden coffee table.
Once in the table’s life, varnish shined over all of it. Now, only the four wooden legs share any such history. …
32 Ways to Travel in COVID-19 Times
Asleep on a Greyhound bus when I was twelve, I awoke to see skyscrapers across Ohio cornfields. Slept too long, I thought. Now I was arriving in New York City. My first experience traveling alone, all 100 miles from my home, and excited I was. Columbus’s Leveque Tower looks a bit like the Empire State Building, but it is more than 500 miles away from NYC.
Since that scary day I have traveled to more than eighty countries, driven in more than two dozen and consider traveling as much a part of my…
Traveler (80 countries), Writer (fiction/nonfiction), Reader (unlimited), Manager(corporate/startups), Driver (2 dozen countries). Loves comedy, food, life.