(re-run) It was Labor Day weekend. We needed to get a handle on the mess in the garage. I asked my oldest to watch my youngest while we parents worked outside. She was nine, in 4th grade already for a week, and the baby was almost two and a half. Then a series of unfortunate… Continue reading Popsicles, Light Carpet, and Stitches
Juan met two women one night while dancing in a bar. He had a matchbook with one of the Donna’s phone numbers on it and another matchbook with the other Donna’s name and number on it. He couldn’t remember which was which, so he picked a matchbook and called. “Hi, this is Juan. Are you… Continue reading Horseback Riding on a First Date
(re-run from twelve and a half months ago) Another day, and it’s another dinner with Sis in the rehab wing. Her regular table mates at dinner, Rhonda and Cecily, are the most alert residents in the dining room. One is in her 90’s, the other over 100. Cecily smiles when I wave hello. Rhonda looks… Continue reading The Bed by the Window
I can’t eat green pepper. I can’t eat a lot of things. The older I get, the more things I need a certain way to keep me happy. When I was four years into a past relationship, I knew it was in trouble when the boyfriend started adding green pepper to everything he served me.… Continue reading Watch Out for the Green Pepper
(re-run) The lunch plate has a light beige blob, a medium beige blob, and a dark beige blob. One blob turns out to be pureed bagel. It is Sister’s rehab in a Jewish community home. The signs are in both English and Hebrew. The synagogue has gorgeous stained glass windows. The doors are all automatic.… Continue reading Four Blobs of Beige
People over fifty have to have colonoscopies to make sure they don’t have colon cancer, although my chorus friend Travis, who just turned 51, says there’s a less-invasive test nowadays. Not for me. I was due for my ten-year test, so I bought the clean-out meds and took them at the prescribed time. They didn’t… Continue reading The Eight-stick Day
When our daughter came out, covered in dark hair just like her dad, the nurse slapped an i.d. tag on her tiny little foot. For some reason I reached over to read it.