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We’re All Doing It — Some More Often Than Others
On the super fun days I get to fill my washer with a hose. I know—you’re jealous. All I need is one helper, two walkie talkies, and we’re off like a fireman and a kiddie pool. I spin and pull the dial that usually signals a water drop, and yank the hose across the floor. I prop it far enough down in the drum so it doesn’t flip back out (only takes once to learn such lessons), and radio the chosen child. “Okay… let it rip!” “Ten-four… here it comes.” “Thanks, buddy.” “You’re welcome.” I’m not sure which part he enjoys more: the walkie talkie or feeling needed. I add…
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She Just Knew
We stood in the back of the rustic church and rocked our boys like footballs. My only goal was to gently bounce mine into sleep. I was focused on us. I had noticed her before but we were quite different and not drawn to one another. Coming from an indigenous Mexican background she was awkwardly shy, avoiding eye contact and touch. We sang songs in her language and swayed to the rhythm while flags were waved and the audience clapped off beat. I was distracted by everything. My limited Spanish skills kept me from getting to know anyone past the typical greetings. People stared and seemed curious about new white people in…
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Dark Chocolate Lies
If someone handed you an hour to yourself and said you had to spend it in one store, where would you go? Target? Nordstrom? Apple? The Dollar Store? REI? Since I am not eating sugar at the moment (grr) and I can’t afford new clothes (grr again), I would probably head to Whole Foods. Not to buy much, just to wander around and inhale healthy scents oozing from BPA-free packaging. Unless there’s a rad candle with a decorative chunk missing and multiple discount stickers. Then I’m in. This store we call Whole Paycheck draws me in like the idea of dark Amedei in my mouth. I’m sure I’d love it, but…
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Why The 14-Year-Old Is Driving
Besides short children running out in front of my car, picking up our youngest at 3:02 is usually a mellow event. The kids lug backpacks large enough to climb into, are mostly all in a hurry, and not too concerned about motorized vehicles. When local police show up, two men packin’ heat and one cone can do wonders for the chaos. No need to be fluent in Spanish to follow along; the flat hand held in your direction is a universal symbol. Stop or else. On this particular day my 12-year-old accompanied me. The bell rang, we greeted the only gringo (ours), and pulled between a sea of dark hair,…
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Dangle Your Modifiers In Someone Else’s Fairytale, Por Favor
Once upon a time there was a lovely faculty member, and she was the fairest smarty pants in all the camp. “Kill the adverbs and avoid split infinitives.” Totally nodding my head in agreement, wise instructor lady. Love your class so far, but if you call on me I might have to break up with you and slip out the double doors. Your basic writers conference gives you tools to become a better writer. Tips to hook your reader. Insights to hone your craft. But when you attend the Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference, you get a whole lot more than basic. And when one of your instructors is the Senior Acquisitions…
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Easter Fail
I knew he was familiar with the Easter story, but I had never heard our seven-year-old try to re-tell it on his own. We only read the full account of Jesus’ death and resurrection once a year; I expected him to get a couple details wrong. Pride welled when he began. Then perfectionism kicked in and disappointment welled when he continued. Not disappointment in my boy—in me and my parenting skills. We use a visual aid called Resurrection Eggs and the carton contains a dozen plastic eggs, each one containing an object to help convey the meaning of Easter. For example, in the orange egg you’ll find praying hands, and the…
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“Your Hard Drive Is Shot”
Writing to you live from the other computer…. Our laptop crashed last week. Took a corner too fast and bam—head on with an innocent user. The low-pitched incessant beep was enough to make me want to smother it in the night, but I still had high hopes it could be restored. After a phone date with a lovely lady from the Apple Genius Bar, she deduced it needed an in-person appointment. So Doug took it to nerd (compliment) number two, who delivered the sad news. “Your hard drive is shot. We can fix it for $425, but in nine months your laptop will be obsolete anyway.” Obsolete? It’s only six…
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The Circus Next Door
I asked God to direct my writing and give me material. This is not what I had in mind. Large trucks pull into the empty lot around lunchtime. The photo-wrapped trailer shimmies up to the far fence and faces the road. The other one shimmies up to our side yard. That’s close enough, thanks. Nice of you to block the dust, but I don’t need you checking out our laundry or feeding our dogs through the chainlink. My attitude plummets when truck and trailer detach, back doors swing open, and a washing machine appears… about 20 feet from mine. Let me guess—you want to borrow a hose? And tap into our…
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10 Años of Blessings… and Mud
Where were you on February 28, 2006? Not exactly a national day to remember, I know. But for us it was the day we moved to another country. To another culture. To another life. Our oldest was four, I was 35 weeks prego with our second, and we spent our first night in Baja, Mexico. Actually, in El Porvenir. But more specifically, in a 5th Wheel trailer. Have you ever tried to sum up ten years of your life in a few hundred words? My life in suburbia could be condensed rather easily: got married, got a job, got a puppy, bought a house, chaperoned a bunch of proms, pulled weeds,…
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Carols In The Closet
She looked up from her phone and spoke with authority. “We need to take cover. Now.” Her children followed like obedient ducks. But we, the west coast visitors who had never received any such emergency text, questioned her urgency. Right now? In the middle of dinner? Two families and a live-in mum around a table, eating simple pizza and crudités before the impending Christmas feast, ditched our plates, grabbed a few carrots and vacated. I felt a blog post coming on, so I snapped this pic and followed the fam. Our friend Erik (well aware of how long this might last) grabbed his guitar and yelled to our oldest, “Micah—grab…
