It was a year ago today that I celebrated my wedding anniversary on a Friday that was anything but good. I didn’t spend the day with my husband, but a good fiend. And not at the Cheesecake Factory abut in the middle of nowhere China. We went to a coffee shop that boasted of an Asian brew known as Copi Luwak. … Continue reading From Buttbeans to Snowflakes
So where do you live? The instant message question that popped up on my phone seemed innocuous enough, but answering it seemed impossible. Gee, I don’t know. Physically, I’m in Chicago. Mentally, I’m anywhere but. I’m in Bangkok during yoga, I’m at a Chinese Market while chopping onions. I transport back to our slumpy dumpy house when … Continue reading Double Exposure
It was sight more rare than tattoo-free forearms at JPUSA. Twelve perfect long stem roses and a note from my husband. I placed the velvety buds in a mason jar and let the sweet fragrance filled the room. But instead of having a Hallmark moment, my mind drifted back to the previous Valentine’s Day. I was in China … Continue reading Thorns
I got an email from one of my students from China who recently moved to the Arizona. She is missing the rice, her friends and the cheap price of haircuts. So I wanted to mail her a gift. Snow. Yeah, I know. A bit impossible. She has never seen it, tasted it, or experienced getting hit … Continue reading Thaw
It was the ultimate oxymoron. A cool funeral. One that honored life, not death. One for a man who lived a life of rich poverty as part of the JPUSA community since 1988. Don. Don was a living reminder that life is fleeting, that every day is burning a hole in your pocket and to think twice of how … Continue reading Spent
I call him skeeter. That’s what Frank* reminds me of.Actually, with his tweed cap and trimmed beard, Frank reminds me of someone who should be smoking a pipe at an English pub instead of making cornbread at a Jesus Hippie Community. Anyway, he started telling me his story while cracking thirty six eggs. “I was a drug evangelist. I liked … Continue reading Mosquito Theology
“It’s all yours!” She handed me the key to the room, which was slightly smaller than her corset. A few weeks prior, the space was equally as intriguing as her couture, a decorating style I dubbed Italian Cemetery. White plaster gargoyles and figurines were mounted on the walls, adorned with wreathes of dried roses. All … Continue reading No Carpet.