Do You Know the Way to San Jose

She started sleeping over

And left a toothbrush

Then, she stayed over the weekend

And left a nightgown

Next, she’d stay for the weekend plus Monday

And left some moisturizer

Imposing a situation, she started arriving on Friday evening

And brought a pair of sneakers

Just in case they decided to go for a walk in the morning

After a while, she’d just stay

Bringing the notebook and some clothes

She wanted to talk about the relationship status

And her little romance was over

I was making a coffee this morning and I realized how nice the cup was. I know nothing about china, but the cup belongs to a set that came from a lady I met just once. That was about ten years ago, when my father-in-law was volunteering at a nursing home and invited me to come along. I learned the lady died about a year ago and left the set to my in-laws, who gave it to us. It looks like it has never been used.

That reminded me of two more stories, one real and another one sent by the kind of friend who never has time to write you something personal, but forwards you stories (which may well be real too).

The real one is just a flash that stayed in my memory. There she was, my mother, trying to put on brand new clothes on my brother and me. We were probably 4 and 5 years old. The clothes didn’t fit! She had been saving them for a special occasion and we had outgrown them. All I remember is her face. A mix of sadness, disappointment, regret, anger… I don’t know. I don’t have the words to adequately describe how she looked.

The other one concerned a man burying his young wife who died of a sudden heart attack. Someone commented on how beautiful the gown she was being buried in was. The widower said: ‘It was my gift to her, but she never wore it. She was waiting for a special occasion. I guess this is it.’

And remember the movie ‘Sideways‘? Paul Giamatti’s character was saving that special bottle of 1961 Château Cheval Blanc for a special occasion. Instead he ends up drinking it from the bottle (or was it from a disposable cup?), concealed in a brown bag, seated alone in a fast food restaurant.

… you have to move your shopping items from the time you pick them at the shelves until you place them in the fridge or in the pantry?

Well, let’s count it:

From the shelf to the shopping cart or basket – 1

From the cart to the check-out counter – 2

From the check-out counter to the bag and back to the cart – 3

From the cart to the trunk of your car – 4

From the trunk to the cart of your building if you live in a condo – 5

* Then wait for the elevator and take the cart back before someone complains.

From the cart to the table or counter (or the floor, in some cases) – 6

From the table or counter to the fridge or pantry – 7

Seven times! Depending on the amount you buy or the help you have! (Let me know if I miss any step)

And you haven’t even eaten them yet! Much less prepared them (which deserves another post)!

Isn’t that amazing?

Make sure you don’t let your food spoil or there will be another trip: to the garbage!

PS: Every time you think it’s expensive it is to eat out at restaurants, think about this.

I have seen this old lady in Miami twice.

She seems to be a hoarder on wheels. Every inch of space in her car, or what’s left of, is filled with stuff, except for the driver’s seat.

The first time I saw her I didn’t have the courage to approach. I was angry with myself. She probably had a great history to tell and what were the odds I’d see her again?

Well, I did see her again and I wouldn’t miss the opportunity. I walked towards her and politely asked her to tell me a little bit about herself.

She started saying that someone had taken the money for the sale of her father’s house and she wished some lawyer out there could help her.

I told her I write stories that I post on the Internet and if she minded if I wrote her story. “Yes, I DO mind!”, she replied very angrily.

Then she literally started to dish me out. And all the writing community!

“People who write stories do so because they don’t have anything better to do! Because they don’t have a job!”

That, of course, hit me a nerve. Not the job part, but the storytelling part. How did she dare say that about one of the most beautiful human abilities?

“Well, actually I do have a job. A very good one”, I replied.

She softened up. “Oh, what do you do?”

“I write and translate entertainment content for a media conglomerate.”

“I met some interpreters in court! You are all crooks.”

“And I also write stories”, I insisted. “If I write about you maybe someone out there will come forward and help.”

“No! Nobody will help me! Nobody cares! You know nothing! Bla bla bla!”

But I didn’t give up.

“But you said you wish some lawyer could help you. If I write your story…”

“Don’t you have anything better to do than writing stories?”

Well, she went on and on, pretty much humiliating me at every turn.

Sometimes you just have to give up a good history… If indeed there was one.

Bitterness is the worst thing that can happen to a human’s soul.

If you are in Miami don’t miss this:

Photo: Courtesy of Emilia Campos Schaffler.
Who has a much better camera than I do. Thanks, Emily!
I tried this shot about twenty times but nothing came out even close.

If sunsets are this wonderful imagine the sunrises!

Too bad most of us are sleeping.

Including me… I blame it on the booze from the evening before!

I am not a neat freak but I have assigned a place to each object in my home.

Of course my husband happily ignores it.

He doesn’t have the mental nor the physical capacity to put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher so I didn’t expect him to put the toaster back to where it belongs each morning.

So I had this brilliant idea: I placed the toaster on his way on the floor so he’d bump to it and hopefully hurt his toes.

It worked, although I had to hear to some unpleasant f* words.

But he never left the toaster on the counter again.

I am soooo mean!!!!

It came with no warning of any kind. I didn’t even see the guy approaching. It happens sometimes, I must not look that bad.

It was so straight-forward that I was left with no words.

I wondered if I should have felt offended or happy with so much honesty.

Well, I felt offended because the guy looked like a psycho.

Had he been good-looking it would have made my day.

I replied calmly:

Well, I can give you my e-mail but your message will probably go to spam.

I didn’t wait for his response and ran away without looking back.

Such a crazy world!

*It happened again during a tennis lesson in Seattle. A guy storms into the public park’s court and asks me if I can be his girlfriend. My coach interferes saying I am married. He totally ignores her while staring at my boobs. Kudos to him for the balls to behave with no qualms.