C. Michaels's Blog, page 4
July 31, 2013
Tropical Weather
What does it mean when the online weather forecaster says, Tonight – Clear with 60% chance of precipitation?
My neighbors think I am it, I am the one to ask what to expect from good ‘ol Mother Nature’s weather decisions, especially this time of year. Yes, it is the rainy season in Mazatlán, meaning that we get all types of wonderful T-storms, some of them a little too exciting if you know what I mean. They will ask me, “Cynthia, is it going to rain tonight?”
I always respond with an exact answer, “We have a 60% chance of rain tonight, maybe we’ll get lucky.” Or, “A hurricane is on its way, get yourselves ready!”
It is interesting how my ego inflates whenever they ask me what to expect for the day’s weather, but in all honesty, I simply repeat what I read on my weather site. Now, I must tell you a story that will counter my last statement. There was a time where I would never have repeated my internet knowledge. That day came a little over a year ago (fade to the past, let’s hear the music that makes us feel like we are regressing, please)…
It was a little over a year ago. I was upstairs in my office, my niece, who was living with me at the time, was working downstairs. I took a look at my favorite online weather forecaster and let out a scream over what I saw. “Meli, get up here to see this!” I cried.
I remember hearing the sound of a desperate woman running up the stairs, obviously worried that there was something terribly wrong, perhaps even terrified at what she would find.
I saw her and motioned for her to come to me, to look at the computer. My eyes were still on the screen with total disbelief when I could feel her presence next to me. I pointed, “Look, I cried. Just look at the forecast for tonight. What are we going to do? I don’t even own a sweater. Yes, I do have a few pairs of socks, but this, oh my. We could make a fire in the chimenea, but that would put us outside. No, that won’t work.”
Meli began to laugh, she bent over with her hand clutching her gut, while she backed away where she could collapse on the nearby couch. Tears filled her eyes. It was contagious, I joined her whimsical stance. I even had to clutch my middle to hold the pressure being put on my gut from my uncontrollable laughter.
When she was able to speak, she said, “We need to find warm shelter for the night.”
We brainstormed, but couldn’t think of anyplace that would protect us for what was soon to be an historical storm landing on top of our little city.
Finally, I thought of an idea. “Let me refresh the screen, maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe, just maybe we won’t need to come up with a survival plan, and if so, we can resume our normal lives. We can plan a nice bbq dinner on the patio, take a walk on the beach to see the sunset. We can keep the doors open to enjoy the cross breeze that helps to cool us down at the end of the day.” I smiled at her, “Ready? Cross your fingers, honey. This may be the most important refresh I have ever performed on this keyboard.”
We both became serious; we could hear the drum roll in our heads as my finger nervously approached that one key that would determine our destiny for the next few days. I turned to look into her eyes one more time, the anticipation she displayed was heartfelt. I was touching the key! I took a deep breath. TAP. Done. Our heads moved closer to the screen, staring for the refresh to complete, hoping hoping…
What we saw was never to be forgotten by either of us. There was a perception emitting from the two of us that we might just be trapped in the realms of the twilight zone.
“Ha!” We declared together. We were going to be alright after all. The screen went from saying…
-160 degrees f with snow TO 71 degrees f with clear skies.
She sighed, then said, “You want to take Rani to the beach and see the sunset?”
I jumped up and called my dog, “You bet, it should be a good one tonight.”
When we entered the street outside my house, the neighbor saw us. “Hey Cynthia, what’s the weather forecast for tonight?”
Together, we smiled and said, “Warm, with clear skies, no worries.”
Well, that’s my story. Yes, I am a follower of the weather, but in this town, I have learned to use discretion. You just can’t predict what will happen in the skies without a smile and a wink to a friend who shared such a moment, a blip in time that would have certainly been in the headlines of the international community.
I sometimes see T-storms announced for every night of the week, but a few minutes later, most of those declarations have changed to clear skies tonight.
Lesson here? Wait until an hour before you show off your knowledge of this weather phenomena, look out the window to see what the sky looks like, then feel free to wander outside where your neighbor might prompt you to enlighten him with real knowledge of the weather.
Yes, tropical weather. I really don’t see the forecast errors that much different than what I heard when I was up north. But, do be ready to do a fire dance if that sky above you is dark with streaks coming from the clouds, maybe sheets of light flashes over to the east of you. Use that common sense, and you should be safe.
Sorry, got to go… the site is telling me that there is a tsunami coming… I need to warn my neighbors!
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
My neighbors think I am it, I am the one to ask what to expect from good ‘ol Mother Nature’s weather decisions, especially this time of year. Yes, it is the rainy season in Mazatlán, meaning that we get all types of wonderful T-storms, some of them a little too exciting if you know what I mean. They will ask me, “Cynthia, is it going to rain tonight?”
I always respond with an exact answer, “We have a 60% chance of rain tonight, maybe we’ll get lucky.” Or, “A hurricane is on its way, get yourselves ready!”
It is interesting how my ego inflates whenever they ask me what to expect for the day’s weather, but in all honesty, I simply repeat what I read on my weather site. Now, I must tell you a story that will counter my last statement. There was a time where I would never have repeated my internet knowledge. That day came a little over a year ago (fade to the past, let’s hear the music that makes us feel like we are regressing, please)…
It was a little over a year ago. I was upstairs in my office, my niece, who was living with me at the time, was working downstairs. I took a look at my favorite online weather forecaster and let out a scream over what I saw. “Meli, get up here to see this!” I cried.
I remember hearing the sound of a desperate woman running up the stairs, obviously worried that there was something terribly wrong, perhaps even terrified at what she would find.
I saw her and motioned for her to come to me, to look at the computer. My eyes were still on the screen with total disbelief when I could feel her presence next to me. I pointed, “Look, I cried. Just look at the forecast for tonight. What are we going to do? I don’t even own a sweater. Yes, I do have a few pairs of socks, but this, oh my. We could make a fire in the chimenea, but that would put us outside. No, that won’t work.”
Meli began to laugh, she bent over with her hand clutching her gut, while she backed away where she could collapse on the nearby couch. Tears filled her eyes. It was contagious, I joined her whimsical stance. I even had to clutch my middle to hold the pressure being put on my gut from my uncontrollable laughter.
When she was able to speak, she said, “We need to find warm shelter for the night.”
We brainstormed, but couldn’t think of anyplace that would protect us for what was soon to be an historical storm landing on top of our little city.
Finally, I thought of an idea. “Let me refresh the screen, maybe it’s a mistake. Maybe, just maybe we won’t need to come up with a survival plan, and if so, we can resume our normal lives. We can plan a nice bbq dinner on the patio, take a walk on the beach to see the sunset. We can keep the doors open to enjoy the cross breeze that helps to cool us down at the end of the day.” I smiled at her, “Ready? Cross your fingers, honey. This may be the most important refresh I have ever performed on this keyboard.”
We both became serious; we could hear the drum roll in our heads as my finger nervously approached that one key that would determine our destiny for the next few days. I turned to look into her eyes one more time, the anticipation she displayed was heartfelt. I was touching the key! I took a deep breath. TAP. Done. Our heads moved closer to the screen, staring for the refresh to complete, hoping hoping…
What we saw was never to be forgotten by either of us. There was a perception emitting from the two of us that we might just be trapped in the realms of the twilight zone.
“Ha!” We declared together. We were going to be alright after all. The screen went from saying…
-160 degrees f with snow TO 71 degrees f with clear skies.
She sighed, then said, “You want to take Rani to the beach and see the sunset?”
I jumped up and called my dog, “You bet, it should be a good one tonight.”
When we entered the street outside my house, the neighbor saw us. “Hey Cynthia, what’s the weather forecast for tonight?”
Together, we smiled and said, “Warm, with clear skies, no worries.”
Well, that’s my story. Yes, I am a follower of the weather, but in this town, I have learned to use discretion. You just can’t predict what will happen in the skies without a smile and a wink to a friend who shared such a moment, a blip in time that would have certainly been in the headlines of the international community.
I sometimes see T-storms announced for every night of the week, but a few minutes later, most of those declarations have changed to clear skies tonight.
Lesson here? Wait until an hour before you show off your knowledge of this weather phenomena, look out the window to see what the sky looks like, then feel free to wander outside where your neighbor might prompt you to enlighten him with real knowledge of the weather.
Yes, tropical weather. I really don’t see the forecast errors that much different than what I heard when I was up north. But, do be ready to do a fire dance if that sky above you is dark with streaks coming from the clouds, maybe sheets of light flashes over to the east of you. Use that common sense, and you should be safe.
Sorry, got to go… the site is telling me that there is a tsunami coming… I need to warn my neighbors!
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
July 24, 2013
Late Night Visitor
The other night, I was peacefully sleeping when suddenly the lights in my room woke me, the brightness painfully ruining my sight for a few seconds. My heart skipped a few beats while I backed up to a sitting position where I could lean against the bed’s backboard, my six or so pillows giving me a soft landing. I pulled the covers up to my neck for protection. I’ve seen that done in the movies, but in reality, the sheets heed no shelter. When I could focus, I saw a beautiful woman standing in the doorway, a woman with impeccable taste in clothes and shoes. Oh, and of course, her accessories were of utmost taste. I squinted my eyes, and rubbed them. Then I realized who she was.
Maddy, the main character in CAUSUAL WOMEN – A SHORT STORY. Wow, it was another visit from one of my characters!
“C. Michaels,” she said in an angry voice, “I'm here to air out my grievances with you, and I don’t plan on leaving until I have some reassurances that you will take care of my problem.”
Still stunned by her beauty, not to mention the fact that she was in my bedroom at 2 am, I looked down at my dog, Rani, who was sound asleep. How odd, I thought. My roommate is a remarkable watch dog, and yet, here she sleeps as if this stunning woman had never barged into our room.
“Listen, Maddy, and yes, I know who you are. I must say, you are even better to look at than I imagined. But enough of that. I can only say to you that I'm working on your debacle. You know that we all have our ups and downs, today is your down time. Look at it this way, you only have up to go.”
“Yea right. But what if I stay down? I hate it, but I'm dependent on you. You made me, you brought me up, and then you ruined me. It's you who can help me, and no one else.”
I looked at her and told her to sit on my bed. “Maddy, you’re a strong woman.”
“Yes, I know that, but it's you who made me that way. Do you know how horrible it is to depend on another for the choices I make? Worse, I have to wait to see what you decide I’m going to do. I hate it, it isn’t fair!”
“Maddy, you wouldn’t exist without me so stop complaining." I heard my harsh words and took a deep breath to calm myself. "I’m sorry I’ve taken so long to show you what turns your life will take, but I’m ready now. Really, you must trust me. I have no intentions of leaving you in the gutter, but I don’t think I want to tell you what's in store for you either.” The look on her face made me cringe. I continued, “I don’t have a crystal ball for myself anymore than I can see one for you. Perhaps we both just have to trust that there are happier times ahead for you. But…” I looked into her beautiful eyes, “don’t think for a minute that the times ahead of you will be a bed of roses. You'll have happy times, but what would the readers think if your life was perfect? Can you imagine how boring it would be to read about a happy lady who never had a bad day in her life?”
“Maybe I don’t care about the readers, maybe I’m ready to be that boring happy woman.”
I was stunned at her attitude, and said, “Really? I think you're forgetting why you exist in the first place. Maddy, without those readers paying attention to you, your existence will evaporate into the steamy misty humid air of Mexico. Think about that.”
I could see that she was beginning to appreciate my reasoning. Her expression was still, unfortunately, full of apathy, but the confusion and anger had begun to change to an understanding. She was giving into the fact that I was in control.
“You created me as a miserable, sad woman. Then you introduced me to a life full of erotic touching, something I was new to, something that I now cannot live without. I need to feel. You made that happen. I’m not just a fantasy woman in a book, I'm real to me. I need you to complete me as a woman, I hate what you did to me in the end. Please. I’m at your mercy.”
I was feeling for this woman, but also needed to explain a few things. I proceeded carefully with my reasoning. “Again, I can’t tell you your future because I don’t know it yet. Don’t you see? It isn’t just me that dictates your life. When I’m writing, it's you who makes decisions that compose your present and future. I realize this is difficult for you to comprehend, but your actions help me determine your next moves. Sometimes I can’t make my fingers type fast enough to keep up with you. But I try because I’m afraid if I don’t get it down while you’re showing me, I'll lose it. Yes, you do depend on me for the events in your life, but I depend on you for telling me what they will be. Not all the time, but it happens often enough. Where you are correct is this… nothing will change with you until I start writing again. The good news for you is that I am ready. Does this help you?”
“You put me in quite an embarrassing predicament; I just don’t see how things can get better.” She looked at me with her big eyes, “Are you going to fix my life? Can I trust you to do that?”
I sighed, and tried again, “I told you, we must do this together. It really works like that. The good news for both of us is that I will start turning your short story into a novel. Do you understand what that means?”
I could see her body language, her breathing subsiding. I thought of her character, and how fond I had become of her. She wasn’t a wimpy little lady asking for help. No, she was a great woman who, through no fault of her own, had taken a fall in her life.
“Maddy. Together, we can help you. I’m ready to work on this, are you?”
A tear fell from one of her eyes. She slowly put her hand up to wipe it away. “Thank you for this, I already feel better.”
She stood and I watched her walk to the exit. She nearly had the door closed when I said to her, “Could you turn out the lights please?”
I heard Rani sigh as she readjusted herself in her sleep.
Read CASUAL WOMEN – A SHORT STORY at http://www.amazon.com/Casual-Women-Short-Story-ebook/dp/B00D5MI2C8 AND look forward to CASUAL WOMEN – THE NOVEL to see how Maddy handles the problems that destroyed her life at the end of her short story, due for a late fall release.
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
Maddy, the main character in CAUSUAL WOMEN – A SHORT STORY. Wow, it was another visit from one of my characters!
“C. Michaels,” she said in an angry voice, “I'm here to air out my grievances with you, and I don’t plan on leaving until I have some reassurances that you will take care of my problem.”
Still stunned by her beauty, not to mention the fact that she was in my bedroom at 2 am, I looked down at my dog, Rani, who was sound asleep. How odd, I thought. My roommate is a remarkable watch dog, and yet, here she sleeps as if this stunning woman had never barged into our room.
“Listen, Maddy, and yes, I know who you are. I must say, you are even better to look at than I imagined. But enough of that. I can only say to you that I'm working on your debacle. You know that we all have our ups and downs, today is your down time. Look at it this way, you only have up to go.”
“Yea right. But what if I stay down? I hate it, but I'm dependent on you. You made me, you brought me up, and then you ruined me. It's you who can help me, and no one else.”
I looked at her and told her to sit on my bed. “Maddy, you’re a strong woman.”
“Yes, I know that, but it's you who made me that way. Do you know how horrible it is to depend on another for the choices I make? Worse, I have to wait to see what you decide I’m going to do. I hate it, it isn’t fair!”
“Maddy, you wouldn’t exist without me so stop complaining." I heard my harsh words and took a deep breath to calm myself. "I’m sorry I’ve taken so long to show you what turns your life will take, but I’m ready now. Really, you must trust me. I have no intentions of leaving you in the gutter, but I don’t think I want to tell you what's in store for you either.” The look on her face made me cringe. I continued, “I don’t have a crystal ball for myself anymore than I can see one for you. Perhaps we both just have to trust that there are happier times ahead for you. But…” I looked into her beautiful eyes, “don’t think for a minute that the times ahead of you will be a bed of roses. You'll have happy times, but what would the readers think if your life was perfect? Can you imagine how boring it would be to read about a happy lady who never had a bad day in her life?”
“Maybe I don’t care about the readers, maybe I’m ready to be that boring happy woman.”
I was stunned at her attitude, and said, “Really? I think you're forgetting why you exist in the first place. Maddy, without those readers paying attention to you, your existence will evaporate into the steamy misty humid air of Mexico. Think about that.”
I could see that she was beginning to appreciate my reasoning. Her expression was still, unfortunately, full of apathy, but the confusion and anger had begun to change to an understanding. She was giving into the fact that I was in control.
“You created me as a miserable, sad woman. Then you introduced me to a life full of erotic touching, something I was new to, something that I now cannot live without. I need to feel. You made that happen. I’m not just a fantasy woman in a book, I'm real to me. I need you to complete me as a woman, I hate what you did to me in the end. Please. I’m at your mercy.”
I was feeling for this woman, but also needed to explain a few things. I proceeded carefully with my reasoning. “Again, I can’t tell you your future because I don’t know it yet. Don’t you see? It isn’t just me that dictates your life. When I’m writing, it's you who makes decisions that compose your present and future. I realize this is difficult for you to comprehend, but your actions help me determine your next moves. Sometimes I can’t make my fingers type fast enough to keep up with you. But I try because I’m afraid if I don’t get it down while you’re showing me, I'll lose it. Yes, you do depend on me for the events in your life, but I depend on you for telling me what they will be. Not all the time, but it happens often enough. Where you are correct is this… nothing will change with you until I start writing again. The good news for you is that I am ready. Does this help you?”
“You put me in quite an embarrassing predicament; I just don’t see how things can get better.” She looked at me with her big eyes, “Are you going to fix my life? Can I trust you to do that?”
I sighed, and tried again, “I told you, we must do this together. It really works like that. The good news for both of us is that I will start turning your short story into a novel. Do you understand what that means?”
I could see her body language, her breathing subsiding. I thought of her character, and how fond I had become of her. She wasn’t a wimpy little lady asking for help. No, she was a great woman who, through no fault of her own, had taken a fall in her life.
“Maddy. Together, we can help you. I’m ready to work on this, are you?”
A tear fell from one of her eyes. She slowly put her hand up to wipe it away. “Thank you for this, I already feel better.”
She stood and I watched her walk to the exit. She nearly had the door closed when I said to her, “Could you turn out the lights please?”
I heard Rani sigh as she readjusted herself in her sleep.
Read CASUAL WOMEN – A SHORT STORY at http://www.amazon.com/Casual-Women-Short-Story-ebook/dp/B00D5MI2C8 AND look forward to CASUAL WOMEN – THE NOVEL to see how Maddy handles the problems that destroyed her life at the end of her short story, due for a late fall release.
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
July 17, 2013
Summer Night Lights
It is the summer of 2013 and what a great one it is for the city of Mazatlán. She has been declared a safe haven for vacationers and they are responding in hordes; how nice it is that folks can now come to see her without worrying about endangering their family members. Yes, it is the season for Nationals to spend their precious time off from work and head for the sea.
The other morning, my dog and I walked to the end of the beach to a wonderful spot called Bruja (Broo ha), which means witch. How intriguing to walk each morning and touch a huge boulder with my foot, a rock with that name. I love its rather steamy reference to the beautiful women who fly over the top of town on their brooms. I'm still waiting to spot one, but feel confident it will happen one of these days. And when it does, I certainly hope they will give me the consideration I deserve for religiously touching their monumental rock with my foot all these years. If they were to land on the sand from the sky, I would even tell them how I constantly tell tourists that they must do it, it is a custom. Now, I have made that up, but rituals have to start with someone’s imagination, so it’s not a lie.
I have really gotten side tracked with all the witch talk, so I will now return to my story. What I saw that morning was delightful… some folks were fishing from the shore, some had bags full of shells they had obviously labeled as precious, some were jogging. All of them had smiles.
When Rani (dog) and I reached Bruja, we diligently touched the rock, and then Rani was let off the leash to do her business. My face was growing new smile wrinkles watching all the happy beach people. I cleaned up her business, and summoned her so I could reattach her leash. When we started back,I noticed something. It had become a video game to walk past all the people, folks taking memory photos of their families. I didn’t think it appropriate for us to be in their sacred shots, so we dodged them, reminding Rani to follow without tugging. I think my favorite scene was that of a tall surfboard with mom, dad, older son, and little sons and daughters. I would love to own a photo of my family like that. I thought, “Yes, this is going to be a special one the family will enjoy for years to come.”
I love it when I can help the visitors out; I take their camera so they can all be in the photo. I've even had some groups ask if Rani can be part of the memory I’m shooting for them. To this date, I haven’t been asked to join them. After all, we would need to find another photographer.
I see this each day, and think nothing of it other than it makes my mouth curl up into a smile. Then the other night, I met some friends further south at a wonderful palapa bar on the beach. We met in time to enjoy the sunset. As the time neared, we did the usual ooos and aaaws as the sky turned a luscious pink, and darkness replaced the bright daylight. The sunglasses came off, I tucked them inside my purse for safety. That night was a particularly clear one, the stars were breathtaking. The three of us were yickety yacking as time passed, great fun. Well, other than the fact that the bar had no wine. Huh?
Suddenly, flashes whipped through the sky, it didn’t make sense. It is the rainy season, but why were the stars out? All over the beach were flashes! I have read about UFO sightings lately, could it be?
I focused on where the last flashes had flickered, hoping I would spot a real angel from another planet. Suddenly, FLASH here, FLASH there… it was one of the most amazing displays of lasers I had ever seen!
My mind was excited, I was in the right spot at the right time. History was about to be made, when it clicked… I focused on the light displays… then I laughed.
Then I remembered.
Mexican families have a delightful habit of capturing each moment of their family members with their cameras. Oh, how I longed for my camera not to be broken. I thought, I need to get me a new camera. Yes, I need to learn from these tourists. Yes, I want to be just like the Mexican Nationals who visit this beautiful town each summer. I need to put that camera on my list.
"Ahhh," I had such mixed feelings rushing through my insides. Yes, I did miss out on seeing aliens land on the beach in front of the chair I was sitting in, but the warm, delicious emotions I had... well, they made everything alright. Maybe even better than dealing with the uncertainty of what the aliens might have wanted of us. Yes, things worked out just fine; now, if I could just find a good camera. I'd go find a tourist on the beach and ask them to snap a photo of Rani and me, maybe even take my friends out at dusk and meld into the laser show while pushing the button repeatedly on that shiny new camera.
Oh dear, I've lost track of time. Where is that dog of mine? It's time to walk to the rock, put my foot against it, and maybe even touch the hearts of folks by becoming their photographer.
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
The other morning, my dog and I walked to the end of the beach to a wonderful spot called Bruja (Broo ha), which means witch. How intriguing to walk each morning and touch a huge boulder with my foot, a rock with that name. I love its rather steamy reference to the beautiful women who fly over the top of town on their brooms. I'm still waiting to spot one, but feel confident it will happen one of these days. And when it does, I certainly hope they will give me the consideration I deserve for religiously touching their monumental rock with my foot all these years. If they were to land on the sand from the sky, I would even tell them how I constantly tell tourists that they must do it, it is a custom. Now, I have made that up, but rituals have to start with someone’s imagination, so it’s not a lie.
I have really gotten side tracked with all the witch talk, so I will now return to my story. What I saw that morning was delightful… some folks were fishing from the shore, some had bags full of shells they had obviously labeled as precious, some were jogging. All of them had smiles.
When Rani (dog) and I reached Bruja, we diligently touched the rock, and then Rani was let off the leash to do her business. My face was growing new smile wrinkles watching all the happy beach people. I cleaned up her business, and summoned her so I could reattach her leash. When we started back,I noticed something. It had become a video game to walk past all the people, folks taking memory photos of their families. I didn’t think it appropriate for us to be in their sacred shots, so we dodged them, reminding Rani to follow without tugging. I think my favorite scene was that of a tall surfboard with mom, dad, older son, and little sons and daughters. I would love to own a photo of my family like that. I thought, “Yes, this is going to be a special one the family will enjoy for years to come.”
I love it when I can help the visitors out; I take their camera so they can all be in the photo. I've even had some groups ask if Rani can be part of the memory I’m shooting for them. To this date, I haven’t been asked to join them. After all, we would need to find another photographer.
I see this each day, and think nothing of it other than it makes my mouth curl up into a smile. Then the other night, I met some friends further south at a wonderful palapa bar on the beach. We met in time to enjoy the sunset. As the time neared, we did the usual ooos and aaaws as the sky turned a luscious pink, and darkness replaced the bright daylight. The sunglasses came off, I tucked them inside my purse for safety. That night was a particularly clear one, the stars were breathtaking. The three of us were yickety yacking as time passed, great fun. Well, other than the fact that the bar had no wine. Huh?
Suddenly, flashes whipped through the sky, it didn’t make sense. It is the rainy season, but why were the stars out? All over the beach were flashes! I have read about UFO sightings lately, could it be?
I focused on where the last flashes had flickered, hoping I would spot a real angel from another planet. Suddenly, FLASH here, FLASH there… it was one of the most amazing displays of lasers I had ever seen!
My mind was excited, I was in the right spot at the right time. History was about to be made, when it clicked… I focused on the light displays… then I laughed.
Then I remembered.
Mexican families have a delightful habit of capturing each moment of their family members with their cameras. Oh, how I longed for my camera not to be broken. I thought, I need to get me a new camera. Yes, I need to learn from these tourists. Yes, I want to be just like the Mexican Nationals who visit this beautiful town each summer. I need to put that camera on my list.
"Ahhh," I had such mixed feelings rushing through my insides. Yes, I did miss out on seeing aliens land on the beach in front of the chair I was sitting in, but the warm, delicious emotions I had... well, they made everything alright. Maybe even better than dealing with the uncertainty of what the aliens might have wanted of us. Yes, things worked out just fine; now, if I could just find a good camera. I'd go find a tourist on the beach and ask them to snap a photo of Rani and me, maybe even take my friends out at dusk and meld into the laser show while pushing the button repeatedly on that shiny new camera.
Oh dear, I've lost track of time. Where is that dog of mine? It's time to walk to the rock, put my foot against it, and maybe even touch the hearts of folks by becoming their photographer.
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
July 10, 2013
A Crab Named Louie
I love the word, anticipation, and all that it stands for. Here in Mazatlán, we have seasons. Not like the seasons I’m used to up north, not the regular four seasons we learn about as children, but rather, creature seasons.
The shrimp from the sea are abundant in the winter, the colorful birds migrate here in the spring, the iguanas appear in the summer, turtles lay their eggs in the summer… jelly fish have their months of the year. But out of all these amazing species, there is one that sticks out in my mind as wildly fun to watch, and yes, have conversations with.
The sand crab.
This particular crab breed is rather large with spindly legs. His body is three to four inches in length, and like other crabs, has prominent, protruding eyes. Legs make this creature enduring, they are about eight inches in length and he uses them to scuttle through the streets of my neighborhood.
I have done extensive google searches to learn more about these creatures, but to no avail… they are either called sand or fiddler crabs, or maybe another name. All I know is what I saw two years ago. I believe it was July, but maybe August. Since my memory is decidedly taking a break from getting this right, I will hand over the reign of storytelling to Louie, a crab I met two years ago. Now, Louie is no longer with us, but his story will forever be in my heart. Here is his tale. Please keep in mind that Louie told me of his experiences, but some of his facts may not be correct. After all, he was just a crab, but a most endearing creature in my memory. Memory? I still have one?! Yes, for Louie, I have sweet visions of his life planted in my mind.
I woke for the first time that I could remember. My instinct was to keep my eyes closed while I pushed at the sand above me while shimmying up the wall I had created. I felt that I was making progress when something wonderful happened… I made an energetic thrust with my legs, and a whole new world opened up to me.
It was safe to open my eyes. I crawled out of the hole and looked at the site on the beach. There were many of me-type creatures that had ascended from the depths of their past homes just as I had. It was a sight to be seen. For an instant, my eyes blurred from some wet stuff that came out of nowhere. My heart was warm, I felt a belonging. The sea in front of me was an aqua marine color. I wondered if I was supposed to crawl toward those immense waves. I looked one more time around the desert of sand, at all the holes that had erupted, just like the one I had made. I thought, “You mean to say that we have been living underground for the last year thinking each of us was alone?”
I was astonished, and felt a sense of family. Then I saw something curious. All my new buddies had started on their trek, but not toward the sea. They were headed in the direction of dry ground, into the neighborhood of the dreaded humans!
I felt fear, but something told me to follow. It was a true exodus away from the confines of our sandy nests. The next couple of days were terrifying. Oh, the horror I saw, but lived through to tell.
I made it to the street where these monsters moved carelessly on tires. How did I know what a tire was? I have to chalk it up to instinct. I saw new friends running for their lives, but to no avail. That first day, I lost many of these new comrades, but in a strange way, it made me stronger.
The second day, I shuffled along the side of the road (I have very long legs that are made for moving), staying clear of the metal monsters. Some of the horrors I saw were disturbing, to say the least. Smashed family members lay on the ground, one of my friends was lying on a windshield (I think that’s what they call it), belly up.
By mid day, I had made it to the end of one of the dangerous roads where I found a nice little house. I could hear music coming from inside, and somehow, I knew I was home. There was vegetation throughout its little plantation, plenty of places to nest. I decided it would be safest if I slept during the day, I would come out at night.
It was my second evening when I almost had a heart attack. Ha! That was when I met the lady of the house. She heard my scuttling sounds, and began searching through her palm trees and plant life. I thought I was well hidden when our eyes met. I was terrified until she smiled and in a tender voice, said, “Well, I’ll be. What a cute little guy you are. Do you live here now?”
That was the beginning of my summer relationship with the lady. She would be careful each night to keep her furry beast she called a dog in the house when she came to me for conversation. She made my time in the delicious vegetation I called home a delightful experience, when one night, very late; I had the most incredible urge to make my trek back to the sand hole I had emerged from all those days ago. I left her, sadly. No note, no telling her… it was the hardest thing I had ever done, but I had no control over the sensation. I left word with a beautiful red bird (who undoubtedly was suffering from sleep deprivation), in hopes that she would get my message, and understand why I had to leave her.
Yes, that is my story of Louie. He was a dear friend, and the cardinal did get word to me. I have since learned that other beaches in town don’t house these amazing creatures, what an honor it is to live on the north beach. Please, if anyone knows what kind of crab Louie was, post a comment.
Anticipation, it’s near the time for Louie’s grandson or granddaughter to emerge from their sand hole. I do hope they will make it to my little home down the street, and stay safe from the metal monsters we humans call cars. Yes, anticipation. That’s what overcomes me this time of year.
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
The shrimp from the sea are abundant in the winter, the colorful birds migrate here in the spring, the iguanas appear in the summer, turtles lay their eggs in the summer… jelly fish have their months of the year. But out of all these amazing species, there is one that sticks out in my mind as wildly fun to watch, and yes, have conversations with.
The sand crab.
This particular crab breed is rather large with spindly legs. His body is three to four inches in length, and like other crabs, has prominent, protruding eyes. Legs make this creature enduring, they are about eight inches in length and he uses them to scuttle through the streets of my neighborhood.
I have done extensive google searches to learn more about these creatures, but to no avail… they are either called sand or fiddler crabs, or maybe another name. All I know is what I saw two years ago. I believe it was July, but maybe August. Since my memory is decidedly taking a break from getting this right, I will hand over the reign of storytelling to Louie, a crab I met two years ago. Now, Louie is no longer with us, but his story will forever be in my heart. Here is his tale. Please keep in mind that Louie told me of his experiences, but some of his facts may not be correct. After all, he was just a crab, but a most endearing creature in my memory. Memory? I still have one?! Yes, for Louie, I have sweet visions of his life planted in my mind.
I woke for the first time that I could remember. My instinct was to keep my eyes closed while I pushed at the sand above me while shimmying up the wall I had created. I felt that I was making progress when something wonderful happened… I made an energetic thrust with my legs, and a whole new world opened up to me.
It was safe to open my eyes. I crawled out of the hole and looked at the site on the beach. There were many of me-type creatures that had ascended from the depths of their past homes just as I had. It was a sight to be seen. For an instant, my eyes blurred from some wet stuff that came out of nowhere. My heart was warm, I felt a belonging. The sea in front of me was an aqua marine color. I wondered if I was supposed to crawl toward those immense waves. I looked one more time around the desert of sand, at all the holes that had erupted, just like the one I had made. I thought, “You mean to say that we have been living underground for the last year thinking each of us was alone?”
I was astonished, and felt a sense of family. Then I saw something curious. All my new buddies had started on their trek, but not toward the sea. They were headed in the direction of dry ground, into the neighborhood of the dreaded humans!
I felt fear, but something told me to follow. It was a true exodus away from the confines of our sandy nests. The next couple of days were terrifying. Oh, the horror I saw, but lived through to tell.
I made it to the street where these monsters moved carelessly on tires. How did I know what a tire was? I have to chalk it up to instinct. I saw new friends running for their lives, but to no avail. That first day, I lost many of these new comrades, but in a strange way, it made me stronger.
The second day, I shuffled along the side of the road (I have very long legs that are made for moving), staying clear of the metal monsters. Some of the horrors I saw were disturbing, to say the least. Smashed family members lay on the ground, one of my friends was lying on a windshield (I think that’s what they call it), belly up.
By mid day, I had made it to the end of one of the dangerous roads where I found a nice little house. I could hear music coming from inside, and somehow, I knew I was home. There was vegetation throughout its little plantation, plenty of places to nest. I decided it would be safest if I slept during the day, I would come out at night.
It was my second evening when I almost had a heart attack. Ha! That was when I met the lady of the house. She heard my scuttling sounds, and began searching through her palm trees and plant life. I thought I was well hidden when our eyes met. I was terrified until she smiled and in a tender voice, said, “Well, I’ll be. What a cute little guy you are. Do you live here now?”
That was the beginning of my summer relationship with the lady. She would be careful each night to keep her furry beast she called a dog in the house when she came to me for conversation. She made my time in the delicious vegetation I called home a delightful experience, when one night, very late; I had the most incredible urge to make my trek back to the sand hole I had emerged from all those days ago. I left her, sadly. No note, no telling her… it was the hardest thing I had ever done, but I had no control over the sensation. I left word with a beautiful red bird (who undoubtedly was suffering from sleep deprivation), in hopes that she would get my message, and understand why I had to leave her.
Yes, that is my story of Louie. He was a dear friend, and the cardinal did get word to me. I have since learned that other beaches in town don’t house these amazing creatures, what an honor it is to live on the north beach. Please, if anyone knows what kind of crab Louie was, post a comment.
Anticipation, it’s near the time for Louie’s grandson or granddaughter to emerge from their sand hole. I do hope they will make it to my little home down the street, and stay safe from the metal monsters we humans call cars. Yes, anticipation. That’s what overcomes me this time of year.
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
July 3, 2013
The Night Dogs
Magic happens here in Mazatlán every night of the week. If you watch for the sun to set, it’s easy to spot this phenomena… it always happens around dusk. Yes, from dusk until the wee hours of the night, you can find this delightful tribute to the human soul.
I am speaking of the dogs… ♫ Who let the dogs out?! ♫
Oddly, until recently, I hadn't taken part in the festivity. I did go to this area of town for a brief moment years ago with my friend, but didn’t really get a full grasp for what the experience was about. This time, I had a friend visiting from out of the country, and he, along with my girlfriend and I, ventured into the area of town where these dogs come out. They stood on every corner of the neighborhood, staring at us. There were lit lights surrounding each of them, tempting us with their lure, the pull they had on us.
Suddenly, our ears picked up the distant sound of music. It gave us strength to pass by the dogs, our fear subsided.
I thought of that wonderful scene in Dirty Dancing where Baby sneaks out after hours only to find the hut where the help is partying by dancing through the night. And yes, it was a delicious dirty. I’m certain the name for the movie came from that scene.
We boldly passed each of the staring creatures, following the sound of music. It was nearly midnight by this time. Our ears continued to direct us until we found a hut-like building much like the one from the movie. It was as if we were in a trance while we slowly ascended the rickety stairs to the upper floor.
The room was full of dancers; along the edges of the walls were chairs where mostly men watched the performers. I found myself thinking, What would a mild earthquake do to this structure?
We were the only gringos there, but friendly smiles directed our way told us it was safe, a warm place to be. We all relaxed and began to dance to the small band that was playing. Time went by, when a man pulled my friend to the side. My girlfriend and I were horrified, as the two of them seemed to be in a contentious conversation. Several minutes went by when my friend grinned and left the other man. He reached us and gently took our arms to lead us out of the dance club.
We made it to the bottom of the stairs before he told us what had happened, “The man wanted to dance with you ladies. I told him I was your brother, and it was my job to look after you.” He laughed at our expressions, “Don’t worry, he was friendly and had many nice things to say about the two of you.”
A wave of guilt came over me, I began to tug at my dress. Damn, I thought. Why did I wear this? My judgement is often off the mark when I venture out at night in this town. I forget that what is appropriate for the beach may not work on land. More tugging, How can I give this dress more length? I looked at our brother, and said, "Is the dress too short?"
The twinkle in his eye gave me my answer. He laughed, and suggested we not go back to the dancing hut without a brother.
It had become very late by this time, so we began walking to the car. Then we saw them.
The DOGS.
What was it about those dogs? We had resisted their temptation before, but now we seemed weak to them. They had us this time, and there was nothing we could do about it. We walked up to the first one we came upon and smiled.
I said in a delighted voice, “I’ll take mustard, mayonnaise, and jalapeños on mine, por favor.”
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
I am speaking of the dogs… ♫ Who let the dogs out?! ♫
Oddly, until recently, I hadn't taken part in the festivity. I did go to this area of town for a brief moment years ago with my friend, but didn’t really get a full grasp for what the experience was about. This time, I had a friend visiting from out of the country, and he, along with my girlfriend and I, ventured into the area of town where these dogs come out. They stood on every corner of the neighborhood, staring at us. There were lit lights surrounding each of them, tempting us with their lure, the pull they had on us.
Suddenly, our ears picked up the distant sound of music. It gave us strength to pass by the dogs, our fear subsided.
I thought of that wonderful scene in Dirty Dancing where Baby sneaks out after hours only to find the hut where the help is partying by dancing through the night. And yes, it was a delicious dirty. I’m certain the name for the movie came from that scene.
We boldly passed each of the staring creatures, following the sound of music. It was nearly midnight by this time. Our ears continued to direct us until we found a hut-like building much like the one from the movie. It was as if we were in a trance while we slowly ascended the rickety stairs to the upper floor.
The room was full of dancers; along the edges of the walls were chairs where mostly men watched the performers. I found myself thinking, What would a mild earthquake do to this structure?
We were the only gringos there, but friendly smiles directed our way told us it was safe, a warm place to be. We all relaxed and began to dance to the small band that was playing. Time went by, when a man pulled my friend to the side. My girlfriend and I were horrified, as the two of them seemed to be in a contentious conversation. Several minutes went by when my friend grinned and left the other man. He reached us and gently took our arms to lead us out of the dance club.
We made it to the bottom of the stairs before he told us what had happened, “The man wanted to dance with you ladies. I told him I was your brother, and it was my job to look after you.” He laughed at our expressions, “Don’t worry, he was friendly and had many nice things to say about the two of you.”
A wave of guilt came over me, I began to tug at my dress. Damn, I thought. Why did I wear this? My judgement is often off the mark when I venture out at night in this town. I forget that what is appropriate for the beach may not work on land. More tugging, How can I give this dress more length? I looked at our brother, and said, "Is the dress too short?"
The twinkle in his eye gave me my answer. He laughed, and suggested we not go back to the dancing hut without a brother.
It had become very late by this time, so we began walking to the car. Then we saw them.
The DOGS.
What was it about those dogs? We had resisted their temptation before, but now we seemed weak to them. They had us this time, and there was nothing we could do about it. We walked up to the first one we came upon and smiled.
I said in a delighted voice, “I’ll take mustard, mayonnaise, and jalapeños on mine, por favor.”
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
June 26, 2013
H2O
What does one do when they lose something that they have always had, something that they never think about, it’s just there?
A week ago, a main water pipe broke near the plant by the airport. Evidently, there are three main pipelines that feed the city. Monday, I did my usual chores of watering my plants, showering, flushing the toilet, washing dishes after breakfast. All was good. I had a guest staying with me, a friend I had been looking forward to seeing, a well planned event.
Then, BOOM! My tanks that feed the house with the liquid gold emptied. No problem. The way my system works is this… the two tanks on my roof top get low on water which triggers a pump to engage a ground level tank to push the new water to the top of the house. The lower tank is fed from the city pipelines. I was still unaware of the problem, that is, until I realized that the pump began to hum. Not a sweet song, it was a pump singing the blues, a whining sound.
When I realized that I was hearing the sound of dry pumping, my instincts kicked in. I ran outside to check the system, and sure enough, no water in the lower tank! I promptly turned off the pump, doing a little water prayer to ensure that it had not burnt out.
“Ok,” I said to myself. “This kind of thing happens in the summer. I will go easy on the water until tomorrow when the city fills my holding tank again.”
That was Monday.
I religiously read the papers, looking for the answer to why I was no longer getting water from the city. That was how I learned that one of the main pipes was damaged. But, the news was good. It was fixed in record time, water was to once again flow through the underground highway of water channels. I was cheerful, I could let my guest flush his toilet once again, oh joy!
By Tuesday, the city had been restored, no more problem. But, why wasn’t I feeling the love? Ah, granted, I was slow in figuring this out. I live in the north end of town, known as the end of the water main. Yes, the water was flowing again, but with very little pressure. It didn’t have the power to make it this far.
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday…
I told my mom on the phone the other day, “I can’t flush the toilet unless it’s absolutely necessary. I can’t do this, I can’t do that… you know, Mom… a bunch of crap like that.” I heard my words in my head, and after several days of frustration, I laughed. Crap?! Did I really say that? I laughed hard with silence on the other end of the line, when I suddenly became conscience of a sound in my ear. Yes! My mother was laughing out of control with me. It was music to my ears, that crazy sound from folks who had given up being angry, frustrated, victims. It was sweet, enchanting, loving.
Did I learn anything from this experience? Hell yes! In this world of modern conveniences, any of us can at a moment’s notice be thrown into a position of being that brave pioneer, that person who must maintain the strength to be creative in order to survive. Beg, steal… whatever it takes to keep the plants alive, maybe take a swim in the pool to rinse the sweat from the body… to conserve in any way, each precious drop of available liquid.
Ah, strength is good. Go ahead, life. Throw it my way. I’m up for the battle to stay strong. But, maybe, just maybe… could I get some credit on the books, and have a break? NO! I DIDN’T SAY BREAK. Bad word, no more breaks, Mazatlán, PLLLLEEEEEAAASE.
I must appreciate the little things in life because you never know when those little guys might become monumental.
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
A week ago, a main water pipe broke near the plant by the airport. Evidently, there are three main pipelines that feed the city. Monday, I did my usual chores of watering my plants, showering, flushing the toilet, washing dishes after breakfast. All was good. I had a guest staying with me, a friend I had been looking forward to seeing, a well planned event.
Then, BOOM! My tanks that feed the house with the liquid gold emptied. No problem. The way my system works is this… the two tanks on my roof top get low on water which triggers a pump to engage a ground level tank to push the new water to the top of the house. The lower tank is fed from the city pipelines. I was still unaware of the problem, that is, until I realized that the pump began to hum. Not a sweet song, it was a pump singing the blues, a whining sound.
When I realized that I was hearing the sound of dry pumping, my instincts kicked in. I ran outside to check the system, and sure enough, no water in the lower tank! I promptly turned off the pump, doing a little water prayer to ensure that it had not burnt out.
“Ok,” I said to myself. “This kind of thing happens in the summer. I will go easy on the water until tomorrow when the city fills my holding tank again.”
That was Monday.
I religiously read the papers, looking for the answer to why I was no longer getting water from the city. That was how I learned that one of the main pipes was damaged. But, the news was good. It was fixed in record time, water was to once again flow through the underground highway of water channels. I was cheerful, I could let my guest flush his toilet once again, oh joy!
By Tuesday, the city had been restored, no more problem. But, why wasn’t I feeling the love? Ah, granted, I was slow in figuring this out. I live in the north end of town, known as the end of the water main. Yes, the water was flowing again, but with very little pressure. It didn’t have the power to make it this far.
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday…
I told my mom on the phone the other day, “I can’t flush the toilet unless it’s absolutely necessary. I can’t do this, I can’t do that… you know, Mom… a bunch of crap like that.” I heard my words in my head, and after several days of frustration, I laughed. Crap?! Did I really say that? I laughed hard with silence on the other end of the line, when I suddenly became conscience of a sound in my ear. Yes! My mother was laughing out of control with me. It was music to my ears, that crazy sound from folks who had given up being angry, frustrated, victims. It was sweet, enchanting, loving.
Did I learn anything from this experience? Hell yes! In this world of modern conveniences, any of us can at a moment’s notice be thrown into a position of being that brave pioneer, that person who must maintain the strength to be creative in order to survive. Beg, steal… whatever it takes to keep the plants alive, maybe take a swim in the pool to rinse the sweat from the body… to conserve in any way, each precious drop of available liquid.
Ah, strength is good. Go ahead, life. Throw it my way. I’m up for the battle to stay strong. But, maybe, just maybe… could I get some credit on the books, and have a break? NO! I DIDN’T SAY BREAK. Bad word, no more breaks, Mazatlán, PLLLLEEEEEAAASE.
I must appreciate the little things in life because you never know when those little guys might become monumental.
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
May 28, 2013
Keepin’ It Real Behind The Wheel
I have driven in Seattle, Barcelona, and now Mazatlán. Obviously, I’m omitting many cities. But, let’s go on… nowhere, other than in Mazatlán, has driving felt more like a video game. Let’s have some fun and play.
First, drink a cup of coffee, or something that will make your mind feel alert. You are about to experience the drive from the north end of town to its southern tip. In order to fully enjoy, really be part of this sensational ride, it is advised that you read the words aloud at a rapid pace.
Next, we must decide who drives what car. The choices are a pink VW bug convertible (top down), a red Jeep Wrangler (with snazzy chrome bumpers), and a Grey Chevy truck.
Let’s see, I will take the Jeep; the other two vehicles will be driven by our fictitious drivers, Garry (pink bug) and Lester (Chevy truck).
Ready? Let’s do this!
“Rani, get into the Jeep.” Rani is, of course, my dog. “Ok, Rani, let’s start the fun.”
We pull out from our driveway into the street. A few blocks away are the guards at the front gate. As usual, I greet them with my best Spanish accent, (I’ve really got buenos dias down) they wave and gawk at Rani, then say sweet things to me as if we are close friends. Love these guys.
Now we get serious, we’re on the main drag. We drive a few miles, it’s imperative that we make good time to be prompt for our appointment. No problem, I’ve got this one figured out.
I’m enjoying the views as I always do; I take us over the bridge, and veer to the right. We’re headed toward the Golden Zone. In my rear view mirror, I see a pink VW bug approaching us, “Slow down,” I say out loud. He passes us, the driver looks our way, he gives us the peace sign. I laugh, “What an odd car for this man to drive.”
We enter the busy section, but to my dismay, I see the brake lights of the bug. “Nooo.” I quickly look to see if I can move into the left lane. “Damn.” I see a Chevy truck coming my way. Sure enough, the bug stops. I mean, this guy stops right in the lane. I can’t believe it, he is getting out of his car, he’s going into the store!
I hit the brakes, the Chevy passes and I maneuver the car into the left lane. We’re good again. I see the light ahead of us change to red, we stop behind the truck. Well, the light isn’t really red, just the left turn arrow is red. “I can’t believe it, the truck wants to turn left, we’re sure to be late!” We sit there, watching the cars in the right lane pass us, driving through their green light. Finally, the light turns red for both lanes… “Ok, Rani. We’re almost there, the arrow will turn green soon and this Chevy will get out of our way.”
We’re off again. I see more stop lights ahead so I move into the right lane to avoid other left turners. Whoops, bad timing, BUSES ahead! I signal to get back into the left lane but need to wait for the PINK BUG to pass! He smiles and gives me another peace sign. “I can’t believe this guy!”
Left lane again… the pink bug is suddenly driving like an old man, I get into the right lane to pass, “No!” This guy is now driving down the middle of the road, driving perfectly between the two lanes. “Ok, mister. Make up your mind, I don’t have all day.” I get into the left lane before spotting the orange cones in the street. A man is sweeping the lane. I slam on the brakes. “Why don’t they warn us better?” The cones are almost on top of this worker.
I wait for others to pass on my right so I can get away from the cones, “I don’t believe this.” The Chevy passes me. I am distraught; I’m not concentrating enough on the game. “How did this left turner catch up with us?!”
We get through the Golden Zone, switching lanes to avoid the busses, the street cleaners, drivers like the one in the pink bug. I sigh, we’re now driving along the malecón, so picturesque. The sea is showing off huge swells today, wow. I can’t believe my fortune, I actually live here!
We are late. The pink bug is now in a single lane, he chose the left one. But we’re where the street vendors display their goods making the right lane useless. Lots of tourists are out today, I’m stuck behind the peace sign guy. “Relax, Cynthia. Nothing you can do about this.” I smile at the thought that everyone in this town is late for functions. They don’t call it Mexican Time for nothing.
The Chevy races up behind me, he passes just before the road downgrades to one lane. I can tell by his driving that he’s frustrated with the pink VW. He’s trying to pass it, but too many oncoming cars. I’m hopelessly coming in at last place today, when something wonderful happens. Just after the Chevy passes a parked car, I realize that it’s pulling out of its spot. “Damn, a lucky break!” I smile, while waiting for this precious real estate.
When I have the Jeep safely parked, I turn to face the back seat and say to my furry friend. “Let’s go, Rani. Time for an espresso doble.”
We cut across the street to the Looney Beans Coffee Shop where I order my espresso and a water bowl for Rani. “Ahhh, this is nice.” A table with a perfect view of the sea across the road is waiting for us. Five minutes go by before my friends join me.
“Hey, Garry, Lester,” I say with a big grin… “what took you guys so long?”
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
First, drink a cup of coffee, or something that will make your mind feel alert. You are about to experience the drive from the north end of town to its southern tip. In order to fully enjoy, really be part of this sensational ride, it is advised that you read the words aloud at a rapid pace.
Next, we must decide who drives what car. The choices are a pink VW bug convertible (top down), a red Jeep Wrangler (with snazzy chrome bumpers), and a Grey Chevy truck.
Let’s see, I will take the Jeep; the other two vehicles will be driven by our fictitious drivers, Garry (pink bug) and Lester (Chevy truck).
Ready? Let’s do this!
“Rani, get into the Jeep.” Rani is, of course, my dog. “Ok, Rani, let’s start the fun.”
We pull out from our driveway into the street. A few blocks away are the guards at the front gate. As usual, I greet them with my best Spanish accent, (I’ve really got buenos dias down) they wave and gawk at Rani, then say sweet things to me as if we are close friends. Love these guys.
Now we get serious, we’re on the main drag. We drive a few miles, it’s imperative that we make good time to be prompt for our appointment. No problem, I’ve got this one figured out.
I’m enjoying the views as I always do; I take us over the bridge, and veer to the right. We’re headed toward the Golden Zone. In my rear view mirror, I see a pink VW bug approaching us, “Slow down,” I say out loud. He passes us, the driver looks our way, he gives us the peace sign. I laugh, “What an odd car for this man to drive.”
We enter the busy section, but to my dismay, I see the brake lights of the bug. “Nooo.” I quickly look to see if I can move into the left lane. “Damn.” I see a Chevy truck coming my way. Sure enough, the bug stops. I mean, this guy stops right in the lane. I can’t believe it, he is getting out of his car, he’s going into the store!
I hit the brakes, the Chevy passes and I maneuver the car into the left lane. We’re good again. I see the light ahead of us change to red, we stop behind the truck. Well, the light isn’t really red, just the left turn arrow is red. “I can’t believe it, the truck wants to turn left, we’re sure to be late!” We sit there, watching the cars in the right lane pass us, driving through their green light. Finally, the light turns red for both lanes… “Ok, Rani. We’re almost there, the arrow will turn green soon and this Chevy will get out of our way.”
We’re off again. I see more stop lights ahead so I move into the right lane to avoid other left turners. Whoops, bad timing, BUSES ahead! I signal to get back into the left lane but need to wait for the PINK BUG to pass! He smiles and gives me another peace sign. “I can’t believe this guy!”
Left lane again… the pink bug is suddenly driving like an old man, I get into the right lane to pass, “No!” This guy is now driving down the middle of the road, driving perfectly between the two lanes. “Ok, mister. Make up your mind, I don’t have all day.” I get into the left lane before spotting the orange cones in the street. A man is sweeping the lane. I slam on the brakes. “Why don’t they warn us better?” The cones are almost on top of this worker.
I wait for others to pass on my right so I can get away from the cones, “I don’t believe this.” The Chevy passes me. I am distraught; I’m not concentrating enough on the game. “How did this left turner catch up with us?!”
We get through the Golden Zone, switching lanes to avoid the busses, the street cleaners, drivers like the one in the pink bug. I sigh, we’re now driving along the malecón, so picturesque. The sea is showing off huge swells today, wow. I can’t believe my fortune, I actually live here!
We are late. The pink bug is now in a single lane, he chose the left one. But we’re where the street vendors display their goods making the right lane useless. Lots of tourists are out today, I’m stuck behind the peace sign guy. “Relax, Cynthia. Nothing you can do about this.” I smile at the thought that everyone in this town is late for functions. They don’t call it Mexican Time for nothing.
The Chevy races up behind me, he passes just before the road downgrades to one lane. I can tell by his driving that he’s frustrated with the pink VW. He’s trying to pass it, but too many oncoming cars. I’m hopelessly coming in at last place today, when something wonderful happens. Just after the Chevy passes a parked car, I realize that it’s pulling out of its spot. “Damn, a lucky break!” I smile, while waiting for this precious real estate.
When I have the Jeep safely parked, I turn to face the back seat and say to my furry friend. “Let’s go, Rani. Time for an espresso doble.”
We cut across the street to the Looney Beans Coffee Shop where I order my espresso and a water bowl for Rani. “Ahhh, this is nice.” A table with a perfect view of the sea across the road is waiting for us. Five minutes go by before my friends join me.
“Hey, Garry, Lester,” I say with a big grin… “what took you guys so long?”
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Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
May 22, 2013
Friends versus Acquaintances
In the last five months, I have made friends with several folks, I mean real friends. One of them has been in my life a mere two months, but she is now dear to me. One friend I met last December when I went to a local sports bar to watch my beloved Seahawks beat whoever they were playing that day. A man was sitting at MY table. I was dismayed over this, but smiled politely and asked if I could sit with him for the game. He is now one of my dear friends. A couple from Seattle became close friends with me their last month before returning north for the summer, we now keep in touch through email. I met a musician in January who is now one of my best friends. I met a woman on the beach the day she was to hop on a plane to go north for the summer. I gave her my business card, and we have become close friends through emails. I recently pondered the question, “What makes a real friend versus an acquaintance?”
Mazatlán is a good place to meet people. Many of them are here on a hiatus, their escape from the real world for a few months or so. Their attitude is that of smiles and no stress. Well, sometimes it is an ordeal to figure out where to dine, so many great restaurants in town. But, that’s a good stress.
I belong to an online writers group. We are part of this organization to support each other, and promote our novels together. This group now has over 300 members but only a few of us are active in some of the promotions. I have friends from this group … REAL friends. How can this be? If I am down about something (like sales for my novels are not where they should be) I can get excellent psychological help from one of these friends. I have helped some of them when they felt like throwing in the towel. However, most of the members in this group are either unknown to me or acquaintances. So, “What makes a real friend versus an acquaintance?”
Is there a friendipedia online to define this? No, and yes, I looked. I used to think it was a matter of chemistry to entice a friendship, but there is obviously much more to it. It is true, many of these folks I now call friends and I have gone through something big together. The support thing with my author friends, driving to the border to nationalize our cars with others, football games… but I am still baffled. After all these years of life, how is it now that I am enjoying the luxury of all this friendship? I spent a career teaching. Years of meeting students each quarter, and less than a handful of them do I call friends. The others were wonderful, but we never got past the acquaintance courtship.
My dog is a great help for me to meet folks when on our beach walk, she is terribly cute. It is wonderful to have with me a creature that makes all who see her smile. She’s giving them such a gift, that healthy smile. Sometimes they can’t control themselves. They must stop and ask what she is (chow chow with a strange hair cut). We end up conversing and then we part ways. I always feel wonderful during these times, but they do not become friends. Well, a few of them have.
Perhaps I’m making too big a deal out of this. After all, some things are meant to enjoy, not analyze. Or maybe this is an idea begging for that new website called friendipedia.
Yes, C. Michaels… former author, now CEO of that website that has become more popular than facebook and twitter! Ah, no. I don’t really want that. After all, I love writing, and I relish that warm feeling I get from my old AND new friends. No more analyzing, just enjoy it, C. Michaels, CEO of her personal warm feelings she gets from all these folks in her life.
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
Mazatlán is a good place to meet people. Many of them are here on a hiatus, their escape from the real world for a few months or so. Their attitude is that of smiles and no stress. Well, sometimes it is an ordeal to figure out where to dine, so many great restaurants in town. But, that’s a good stress.
I belong to an online writers group. We are part of this organization to support each other, and promote our novels together. This group now has over 300 members but only a few of us are active in some of the promotions. I have friends from this group … REAL friends. How can this be? If I am down about something (like sales for my novels are not where they should be) I can get excellent psychological help from one of these friends. I have helped some of them when they felt like throwing in the towel. However, most of the members in this group are either unknown to me or acquaintances. So, “What makes a real friend versus an acquaintance?”
Is there a friendipedia online to define this? No, and yes, I looked. I used to think it was a matter of chemistry to entice a friendship, but there is obviously much more to it. It is true, many of these folks I now call friends and I have gone through something big together. The support thing with my author friends, driving to the border to nationalize our cars with others, football games… but I am still baffled. After all these years of life, how is it now that I am enjoying the luxury of all this friendship? I spent a career teaching. Years of meeting students each quarter, and less than a handful of them do I call friends. The others were wonderful, but we never got past the acquaintance courtship.
My dog is a great help for me to meet folks when on our beach walk, she is terribly cute. It is wonderful to have with me a creature that makes all who see her smile. She’s giving them such a gift, that healthy smile. Sometimes they can’t control themselves. They must stop and ask what she is (chow chow with a strange hair cut). We end up conversing and then we part ways. I always feel wonderful during these times, but they do not become friends. Well, a few of them have.
Perhaps I’m making too big a deal out of this. After all, some things are meant to enjoy, not analyze. Or maybe this is an idea begging for that new website called friendipedia.
Yes, C. Michaels… former author, now CEO of that website that has become more popular than facebook and twitter! Ah, no. I don’t really want that. After all, I love writing, and I relish that warm feeling I get from my old AND new friends. No more analyzing, just enjoy it, C. Michaels, CEO of her personal warm feelings she gets from all these folks in her life.
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
May 15, 2013
Numbers… Can They Be Good For Us?
Perhaps it began with Sesame Street, watching The Count with all his enthusiasm for the numbers to get higher and higher. I know I sure do get a thrill out of it!
If you have played a machine at your local casino, when the bells sound off and the number spinner goes crazy, your heart takes a leap (what is the opposite of leap) to your tummy. Never mind that the count represents pennies, the thrill is abundant.
Last week, I went through the process in Mazatlán to get plates for my car and trailer. Wow, what an ordeal, 13 hours spread over four days. I began to believe I worked there. It was painful until I learned each line that I needed to go through. I counted them so I could remember without having to ask a second or third time (my poor Spanish made that difficult). The count helped, made the job tolerable. This one was a COUNTDOWN. As with the casino machine, my heartbeat took on a rapid happiness as I neared the last of the eight lines. It was liberating!
I have my novels on several GOODREADS lists. These are registers where readers can vote for a novel they enjoyed reading. I have seen one of my novels move (after a promotional run) as much as 30 points in a day, taking my book out of the invisible cesspool that holds tens, no, hundreds of thousands of other great novels.
Numbers, what is it about them? Are we born to enjoy the count, or is that crazy guy who calls himself The Count the one who taught us this thing? He is rather cute, and I might go so far as to say he has some charisma, but he probably isn’t the reason.
Money is fun to count, but I don’t believe it is always about the thing we are counting... WE LIKE WATCHING THE NUMBERS GROW.
The gauge for this can be a ticker board like the stock markets use, it can be counting backwards to become #1 on a GOODREADS list, or it can simply be watching the microwave countdown when your tummy is hungry.
We, as a universal group of folks love the count.
I spoke to a neighbor today who greeted me with, “It's too hot, I wish it would be 70 degrees, 80 is too much.”
I then went to work at my computer where a friend flashed me a text message saying, “It is only 60 degrees here, can’t wait for it to climb to 80.”
When I lived up north and the forecast called for snow, I found myself running to look at the temperature gauge every few minutes, excited to see the arrow get closer to that magic number, 32.
Numbers, hmmm… is this the biggest event in our life? Of course not, but you know? They are fun to watch. In a world where the news can be grim, the stress of the daily routine can be exhausting, there is always the sensational rush of watching the numbers. Yes, that’s it. Next time I need a little help with my mood, I will turn on my microwave and listen to the popcorn sound while watching the numbers change on the screen. Or I will watch the numbers on the GOODREADS list countdown to make my book visible to a reader… or I may go for a ride and count the number of red Jeeps I pass on the road. NO! That’s going too far! Well, at least The Count would be happy with my last choice.
Is this silly talk or is there a point to it?
I have a dear friend who is going through a rough time right now. I try to keep her positive during her difficult times, but my words can only go so far. Perhaps this number thing can help her. Yes, I will tell her to start watching the counts. It’s rather like playing a game, it can be exciting… it can take her mind off the stressful thoughts. Now, if I could only come up with a good counter for her to use. Hmmm. Where is The Count when I need him?
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
If you have played a machine at your local casino, when the bells sound off and the number spinner goes crazy, your heart takes a leap (what is the opposite of leap) to your tummy. Never mind that the count represents pennies, the thrill is abundant.
Last week, I went through the process in Mazatlán to get plates for my car and trailer. Wow, what an ordeal, 13 hours spread over four days. I began to believe I worked there. It was painful until I learned each line that I needed to go through. I counted them so I could remember without having to ask a second or third time (my poor Spanish made that difficult). The count helped, made the job tolerable. This one was a COUNTDOWN. As with the casino machine, my heartbeat took on a rapid happiness as I neared the last of the eight lines. It was liberating!
I have my novels on several GOODREADS lists. These are registers where readers can vote for a novel they enjoyed reading. I have seen one of my novels move (after a promotional run) as much as 30 points in a day, taking my book out of the invisible cesspool that holds tens, no, hundreds of thousands of other great novels.
Numbers, what is it about them? Are we born to enjoy the count, or is that crazy guy who calls himself The Count the one who taught us this thing? He is rather cute, and I might go so far as to say he has some charisma, but he probably isn’t the reason.
Money is fun to count, but I don’t believe it is always about the thing we are counting... WE LIKE WATCHING THE NUMBERS GROW.
The gauge for this can be a ticker board like the stock markets use, it can be counting backwards to become #1 on a GOODREADS list, or it can simply be watching the microwave countdown when your tummy is hungry.
We, as a universal group of folks love the count.
I spoke to a neighbor today who greeted me with, “It's too hot, I wish it would be 70 degrees, 80 is too much.”
I then went to work at my computer where a friend flashed me a text message saying, “It is only 60 degrees here, can’t wait for it to climb to 80.”
When I lived up north and the forecast called for snow, I found myself running to look at the temperature gauge every few minutes, excited to see the arrow get closer to that magic number, 32.
Numbers, hmmm… is this the biggest event in our life? Of course not, but you know? They are fun to watch. In a world where the news can be grim, the stress of the daily routine can be exhausting, there is always the sensational rush of watching the numbers. Yes, that’s it. Next time I need a little help with my mood, I will turn on my microwave and listen to the popcorn sound while watching the numbers change on the screen. Or I will watch the numbers on the GOODREADS list countdown to make my book visible to a reader… or I may go for a ride and count the number of red Jeeps I pass on the road. NO! That’s going too far! Well, at least The Count would be happy with my last choice.
Is this silly talk or is there a point to it?
I have a dear friend who is going through a rough time right now. I try to keep her positive during her difficult times, but my words can only go so far. Perhaps this number thing can help her. Yes, I will tell her to start watching the counts. It’s rather like playing a game, it can be exciting… it can take her mind off the stressful thoughts. Now, if I could only come up with a good counter for her to use. Hmmm. Where is The Count when I need him?
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
May 8, 2013
Fuzzy Lines
Mazatlán permits fuzzy lines in office buildings. Not in the grocery store, of course, but when I need to talk to the nice man behind an office counter and there is no number system, it’s not easy.
The other day, I was in the vehicle licensing office, I needed to turn in my papers so I could take the test. Yes, I am now the proud owner of a Mexican driver’s license. But… it was not easy. Oh, the test was fine, but getting to the man who took my papers was a chore.
Sometimes I can detect a “sort of line” but usually it’s a glob of bodies all vying for the attention of the man who will help them, let them finish in this office so they can happily leave, knowing they are free once again from a fuzzy line.
My niece grew up in Mexico City. When I told her that I had discovered fuzzy lines, she laughed. She said, “I know exactly what you mean! When I was in high school, I remember being fed up with the phenomena. One day, I began organizing people, moving them as though they were figurines huddled together. You come here, and you here. Before you know it, there was a real line! I think they thought I worked in the office.”
I thought about what she did, but quickly dismissed trying it. My poor Spanish skills would surely give me away. It has taught me a valuable lesson though. I have learned how to be politely aggressive. Think about that expression, not an easy feat.
I remember when I was at the hospital last year to get my insurance card. I got there before the workers were open for business, there were only three other customers like myself there. “Wow!” I thought. “I can be in the front before the line becomes fuzzy. This is the way to do it.” I smiled at the other early birds, our eyes speaking to each other, a silent knowledge that we had the edge over this line debacle.
Then it happened.
Masses of people soon gathered, literally crowding out us folks who thought we had this figured out, defining about four different lines for one window. “Which line do I stand in?” I thought. I was massively disappointed in the results of my experiment.
Did I learn a lesson that day? You bet I did; time to become fluent in Spanish so I can pretend to work at these places that house fuzzy lines, time to break out all the tricks. Survival instincts can come in handy when dealing with fuzzy lines.
I’m working on it, I really am. Voy a ser una organizadora de filas my pronto. Incluso me haré una etiqueta con mi nombre. Espera, voy a descartar esa idea porque debe ser de una forma discreta.
Well, I have to be honest… I had a little help from my niece with that talk. Soon, though, very very soon.
Adios!
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
The other day, I was in the vehicle licensing office, I needed to turn in my papers so I could take the test. Yes, I am now the proud owner of a Mexican driver’s license. But… it was not easy. Oh, the test was fine, but getting to the man who took my papers was a chore.
Sometimes I can detect a “sort of line” but usually it’s a glob of bodies all vying for the attention of the man who will help them, let them finish in this office so they can happily leave, knowing they are free once again from a fuzzy line.
My niece grew up in Mexico City. When I told her that I had discovered fuzzy lines, she laughed. She said, “I know exactly what you mean! When I was in high school, I remember being fed up with the phenomena. One day, I began organizing people, moving them as though they were figurines huddled together. You come here, and you here. Before you know it, there was a real line! I think they thought I worked in the office.”
I thought about what she did, but quickly dismissed trying it. My poor Spanish skills would surely give me away. It has taught me a valuable lesson though. I have learned how to be politely aggressive. Think about that expression, not an easy feat.
I remember when I was at the hospital last year to get my insurance card. I got there before the workers were open for business, there were only three other customers like myself there. “Wow!” I thought. “I can be in the front before the line becomes fuzzy. This is the way to do it.” I smiled at the other early birds, our eyes speaking to each other, a silent knowledge that we had the edge over this line debacle.
Then it happened.
Masses of people soon gathered, literally crowding out us folks who thought we had this figured out, defining about four different lines for one window. “Which line do I stand in?” I thought. I was massively disappointed in the results of my experiment.
Did I learn a lesson that day? You bet I did; time to become fluent in Spanish so I can pretend to work at these places that house fuzzy lines, time to break out all the tricks. Survival instincts can come in handy when dealing with fuzzy lines.
I’m working on it, I really am. Voy a ser una organizadora de filas my pronto. Incluso me haré una etiqueta con mi nombre. Espera, voy a descartar esa idea porque debe ser de una forma discreta.
Well, I have to be honest… I had a little help from my niece with that talk. Soon, though, very very soon.
Adios!
__________________________________________________________
Got comments? You will find the comment box below this story.
__________________________________________________________
You can read all about drama in my novels. Check them out at www.cmichaelsbooks.com, author of Twisted Thrillers.
__________________________________________________________
