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.…

Read More

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…

Read More

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,…

Read More

Time For Butter

My great-uncle John never buttered his bread. “I don’t have time for butter!” he insisted. I never knew how much time butter took, but apparently it was more than Uncle John could spare. Time passes so often without notice. A day seems to pass in the time it takes to butter a piece of bread.…

Read More

Adequate Accommodations

“I can always sleep in my rain jacket,” my husband Peter announced. Vacationing in rental homes is usually a bit of an adventure. We don’t need luxurious digs, and instead look for apartments offering a hefty discount if we stay for a full month. We did this three years ago in Pamplona, Spain. The apartment…

Read More

Listening To The Bells

The bells ring more or less all the time here. My husband, Peter, and I are in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, a city filled with old churches. Every old church has at least a couple of old bells, and all the bells are rung frequently. Since there is so much I do not understand…

Read More

How Things Are Done

One reason to travel is to discover how things are done all over again. My husband, Peter, and I are in Mexico, and I was thinking this as we stood, confounded, in front of the washing machine. It would not start. There was a dizzying array of buttons and commands. I was pleasantly surprised to…

Read More

Out Of The Jungle

In my dream, the jungle was thick and dark. There was a river running through it and I was on a small raft, careening down it. The current was flowing fast in the center and I wanted to steer closer to the banks, but the jungle was filled with monsters—prehistoric creatures that roared when they…

Read More

Finding A Better Way

“You’ll never guess what I did!” my husband, Peter, announced. “You’re right. I won’t.” “I microwaved the masking tape!” I can’t tell you how pleased he was with himself. My husband has a hack for everything. When I buy a roll of masking tape that is good for nothing but causing intense frustration, I am…

Read More

The Postscript

Nothing is as fun as eating broccoli and breaking bad habits “I bought more broccoli because I knew you were coming,” my mother informed me. You can never get enough broccoli, that is my belief. I am lucky in that I never had to acquire a taste for vegetables out of some sort of concern…

Read More