Poking and Clicking

“You gotta keep poking and clicking,” a friend tells me. “That’s what my daughter does.” By this, she means that learning new technology is not a straight path. I have to play with it. I have to find the process of learning fun and challenging and not get hung up when I make mistakes along…

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Friends Like Angel

This time of year still hits me hard. It is the anniversary of the death of my best girlfriend, Angel, who died too young and left an Angel-shaped hole in my life. “Can it be six years?” I ask my husband, Peter, in disbelief. Angel died at 50 years old, six years ago. In the…

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A Great Time to Get Old

“It’s a great time to get old!” That’s what my husband, Peter, says. He’s right. And getting old is—as the saying goes—better than the alternative. I was thinking this while waiting for my father to get a pacemaker. My father had no idea he needed a pacemaker until two days before he got one. They…

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The Job I Want

“Dress for the job you want!” was advice I heard from an early age. I took this advice to heart. I was working a lowly job in a government office while applying for jobs in businesses around town. I had never worked in business, but I had a freshly minted business degree, so I bought…

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A Lot of Cake

The plan was to buy everyone cake. My husband, Peter, and I are finally getting ready to leave Mexico, and we can’t say we are too happy about it. The last two months in San Miguel de Allende have convinced us that it is a place we want to return to, and now leaving it…

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My Grouchy Friends

I have a weakness for grouchy people. I have a couple of friends I would describe as perpetually grouchy, and I’m not quite sure why, but I think they are good for me. To clarify, I’m not fond of being around people who are in the habit of deliberately messing up their lives. I think…

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A Dog Knows

“What a sweet dog!” I said, in Spanish. “She is a sweet dog,” the man walking her answered, in English. He had an Irish accent and was walking the young dog down the street as my husband, Peter, and I made our way home from dinner. “And she has no idea what will happen tomorrow,”…

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Patron Of The Arts

My landlord, Jorge, is a patron of the arts. When I imagine a patron of the arts, I imagine some fabulously wealthy person in the past, supporting the creation of art in Italy or New York—someone with an impossibly luxurious lifestyle, maybe with a couple of designer dogs on diamond leashes standing at attention nearby.…

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Super Bonito

“Maybe I’m a little old for this dress?” I suggested tentatively as I made my way to the mirror in the little shop. I was in the artisans’ market in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, where they sell everything imaginable—and quite a few things I had never imagined. I was wearing a dress that had…

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Room for More

My husband, Peter, and I were traveling in Mexico when we suddenly found ourselves without a place to stay. Over the years, all our accommodations while traveling have been quirky in one way or another, but they have all been pretty much what we were expecting, and we’ve never had any insurmountable problems. This week,…

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