The Postscript

Circumstantial Evidence

My mother reluctantly adopted Stubby after the tragic loss of half his tail last year. He went from her archenemy to her best friend, and now my mother feeds him every day. He has become quite tame and is clearly devoted to my mother and so, naturally, every time I chat with my mom, I ask how Stubby is doing.
Apparently, Stubby got into some trouble.

Apple Empanadas

It was midafternoon and not exactly our coffee and pastry hour. (Full disclosure: My husband, Peter, and I didn’t have a coffee and pastry hour, although this soon changed.) We cut one of those apple empanadas in half and tried it. And that was pretty much it.

The Painter

Now he has more commissions and offers to show in galleries than he can accept. People love his work, and so does he. “It freed me, my partner leaving,” he said. “If he hadn’t done that, I would never have gotten to paint!”

Hola Hour

As it turns to night, everyone naturally starts saying, “Buenas noches,” (“Good evening.”) This seems pretty straightforward, but determining when to stop saying “Good afternoon” and start saying “Good evening” is far more complicated than it seems.

Summer Cold

I went to bed early with a stomachache and a cough and a sore throat and the feeling that I must have behaved very badly to get all these things at once

Daddy’s Home

Who can blame these two unseen dogs for losing their little minds once a night—the most exciting time of the day—when Daddy finally gets home?

Marriage Stew

Maybe our marriage is peculiar; I am in no position to say. Maybe every marriage is peculiar in its own way.

The Cigar Box

If I now asked you to guess what was in the box, no matter how many guesses you were given, I’m betting you would be wrong.

Second Sunset

I tell my parents I admire the life they have created for themselves. They have this great cabin, fun friends and neighbors, they bike all summer, ski all winter and, at the end of every day, they get an extra sunset.

Raising the Roof

While I’m certainly not wishing for the roof to fall in on anyone, I’m not sure it’s been such a bad thing.

Blessings in Disguise

My blessings are poorly disguised. They show up wearing false noses and funny eyeglasses and are instantly recognizable unless I am being completely thick-headed—and it is astonishing how often I am.

Good Pear

It turned out I’d been wasting a lot of good pear, but that stopped under Mrs. Johnson’s tutelage.

More Owls

The rent was suspiciously cheap, but the reviews were all good except to say that the house was on a road with stairs. There is a good reason for this: the town predates wheels.

Summer Birthdays

Somewhere near the middle of our vacation, usually just after we’d reached our destination, my birthday would arrive.

An Awful Lot of Cheese

My parents, who buy little tiny blocks of cheese which they cut into little tiny slices and serve on little tiny crackers at precisely five o’clock every evening, were understandably taken aback by the arrival of twenty pounds of cheese.

The Kind of Dog I Am

I imagined I was sort of a golden retriever mix. I was a cool dog, a chill dog. I am actually nothing at all like this.

Slow Travelers

I used to take pride in traveling light. I fit all my clothes and everything I needed in a small backpack or a carry-on suitcase and hit the road with little idea of where I was going. Then I met Peter.

Blooming Late

We might be starting from scratch, but we’ve got a head start. We might be trying something new, but we get credit for time served.

Forever Home

The farmhouse is where I thought I’d grow old. I planted a lot of trees. I had a garden. I painted every wall, inside and out. I thought there was a strong likelihood I’d die in that house. Now I’ve put it up for sale.

Unexpected Cowboy

I have no cowboy credentials. So, when Bob suggested I perform with a cowboy singer, I was more than skeptical—I thought it was a dumb idea.