Life As I Know It

“Miriam!” “Yes!” I turned suddenly to see my friend with her hand on her hip “Aren’t you listening to a word I’m saying?” I smiled a crooked smile and said “frankly my dear… no” “Ah! What is wrong with you”? “Nothing” “Yes there’s something wrong. We just passed Neiman’s and you didn’t even glance.” “Oh, did we? When?” “Somewhere in between… what’s with you? I sigh one of those horrible sighs that reaches into your heart and makes it skip a beat “I don’t know. It’s a mixture of hormones or my past reaching into my present. My present making me feel jaded, my future being a blur. Or the lunch we just ate that gave me heartburn. Take your pick” She laughs, “You need serious shop therapy and I know exactly what will do the trick” so she swings me around and we head straight to the vintage shop I love. She drags me through the rows of 1950’s dresses, art deco pieces, and old tacky furniture. I drag my feet through the store not showing interest in anything. I’m having one of those days wh...

The following short story is dedicated to a dear friend of mine who taught me that forever is the time you make infinite… Goodbye. That’s the last thing he said to her. Goodbye. She hated goodbyes if you ask her what she needed… she’d say she needed more hellos. But all she got was a goodbye. A finale, a conclusion. The end. TAN-TAN. Like the notes at the end of a Mexican song that tell you to applaud. But after years of farewells, I’ll be seeing you’s, and until we meet again moments she’d learned there was no point in being picky about farewells. You were fortunate, more than blessed, if you got a goodbye at all. He was leaving to a place where she could not follow. Where phones, and computers didn’t exist, only memories and old photographs. After they said goodbye she got in her car, and just drove. She felt like driving, hitting the open road, never looking back and never getting anywhere. So she just drove, as she bit her lip trying to hold back the tears. She was facing the sunse...

Long ago I did a couple human interest articles; I was able to interview extraordinary people with wonderful stories. This is one of my favorites : Friendship is a gift everyone is able to give and receive. True friends are loved for their qualities. Their minor faults are overlooked. I think it began when I asked Mrs. Louise who her best friend was. This was her story: “I met my best friend when I answered a local add. Her name was Irene Herrera. She was in need of a roommate and I was in need of a home. I remember the first time I met her. I walked up her porch and noticed a small sign posted over the doorbell, and index card that read in simple block letters BELL. For the truly moronic there was an arrow. She opened the door and she had a big smile on her face as she welcomed me in. She had a wide face and long red hair piled up on her head like she’d done it in a hurry. A pencil and a pen were sticking out of it. She had an old deep green kimono patterned with dragons, a big white ...

I was 5 when I realized that tag was one of my least favorite games. I was in junior high when I realized guys never stopped playing tag. I was in high school when I realized you could get hurt chasing someone. Tag required running after someone that you never quite knew if you could catch. When played with boys it was even more challenging. They were sneaky and too fast for my taste. The minute they were a grasp away, they’d change direction and be gone in the blink of an eye. At times “you’re it”, at times your not, but when you spent that amount of time running the pursuing became a hunt. I was sipping chamomile tea three weeks ago when I realized I still hated tag. When you are older and a game of tag is what “He” has in mind, then you might as well stop running, sit down, grab yourself a soda pop and let him come to you. It’s cute when you’re five to chase someone; it’s a child’s game then. But if you’re in your twenties and older and he’s still playing tag well it’s simply that- ...

The worst thing about NOT being in a relationship is having to give advice about love. I love my friends and if there's something I can do to help. I'm the first one there. But at times having to give advice is a bit draining. Especially when you have to give advice about something you never followed. It reminds you that at some point that's not something you believed in. And that if you had maybe there would have been a different outcome. But there I was on a roller coaster, of all places, when my friend turns and looks at me and says "What do i do? What would you do?" "Scream" I said. She says "Why?" "Because we are about to drop" She looks down and realizes it. And we scream. When we get off, she realizes I haven't given her any advice so she asks again. I look at her and say "Love is a bit of a roller coaster. Sometimes you're up and laughing with giddiness. At times you are down. Screaming inside, holding your stoma...

I rummaged around through the racks looking for a dress for a special occasion. And that’s when I saw it; the most beautiful 1950’s vintage yellow silk dress. It was a one-shoulder dress with a bow cascading over the shoulder with exquisite crystal beading around the waistline. I tried it on to find that it looked even more amazing on. Perfect fit, tailor made just for me. My fashion side would have bought it in an instant but my cynical side thought I could find something better and less pricey. So I put it back on the rack, promising myself that if I didn’t find anything else I liked I would come back and buy this dress. After many tight silk pencil dresses, itchy chiffon dresses, too bright colored gowns, and non-flattering out fits I found myself a bit disappointed. I had yet to find something to wear. A bit defeated and very much ashamed of the time wasted, I found myself traveling to the first store. And as I desperately searched the racks, I observed a girl getting out of the ...

So there I was surrounded by Jimmy Choo sandals, Prada sling backs, Manolo Blahink satin pumps, and in the middle of a fashion blank. As I walked browsing, the sales clerk asked me "what kind of shoes are you looking for?" "Something special" I said. "Arent we all" she says and then proceeded to laugh hysterically. It is normal to pick up the wrong type of shoes every now and then, so I carefully browsed and I began to think about the analogy between men and shoes. Some shoes are drop dead gorgeous. But you have to pay a high ticket for. Then there are the "all that glitters isn't gold shoes". Those completely stricking stilettos that look absolutely fabulous, but after being worn for no more than an hour begin to cause unnecessary pain. There are the shoes you've worn out; ready to be thrown out, but for some reason or another you cannot part with. The shoes that make you feel secure, that you can step over anything and not fall. The ug...