Posts tagged "Mexico City"

Mother Nature Burning Up

Driving the last thousand miles of a 5000 mile trip about the west, I have experienced the drought and climate change firsthand. From the corn rows dead in the fields of Iowa and Nebraska, to the overwhelming smoke poisoning the air in Idaho and making it look like Mexico City’s, where I lived for six... Read more »

The Pub is NOT a Bar

The Pub is NOT a Bar
When you say to Americans, “we went to the pub with the grand kids”–you see it in their eyes. Their concern, their speed dial thoughts to Children and Family Services in the OMG assumption. You took a KID to the BAR?? What are you Alcoholic Anonymous wanna-bees? Many pubs in the UK–at least pubs I’ve... Read more »

Bribery, every body does it.

Stop right there. What are you, a teenager? The argument that it is okay to do something that it is most assuredly not okay to do because “every body does it,” sounds like the reasoning of an adolescent wanting a later curfew. Really. America I hate to give you any factual information, but no. Everybody... Read more »
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The Attempted Murder by Mother Nature

  Nature is trying to kill me. I don’t believe it’s intentional. It’s just my corporal reaction to Nature. I understand. It’s not personal. It’s just genetic. It began in my toddler years. Sore throats every morning after a night of mouth-breathing due to a genetic post nasal drip. My Mom made me hot tea... Read more »

The Rat in the Toilet

Leaves pile up at the foot of the dogwood tree where the bored 11-year-old girl sits perched like an eagle, gazing expectantly out to the horizon. If only something would happen, if only there was something new, something different. That evening she feels like she won the lottery when told by her parents that they... Read more »
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    Candace Drimmer

    I was an accidental expatriate; love and marriage led me to it. One day I was a bandy-legged kid sitting atop my dogwood tree looking out of my small backyard world in 1950s New Jersey, wanting to move somewhere--anywhere, different. Next thing I knew my father had accepted a job in Houston TX. I was ecstatic, it was a foreign land in 1961 America. After high school graduation, my parents’ gave me a matched set of fawn-colored hardsided American Tourister luggage. Taking the hint, I went to college; well four colleges in five years--it was the 60s after all. Meeting a young hirsute anti-war, soon-to-be-Peace Corps volunteer, I fell in love. After finishing up college coursework for my degree, but before I even walking a graduation stage, I grabbed the paper airline ticket my boyfriend had sent me, my brand-new passport, and was off to the airport and Lima, Peru.

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