Essay publication: "To the guy who saved us from sleeping in our car"

Oh, it was so sweet to finally write this essay about the time I was with my ex-husband and our car got stuck in the snow in Winthrop, Washington and Leonard saved our sorry asses.

 (Leonard, whose last name I never learned, I hope you read this although I know you won't!)

And yes, he is my ex, despite the "happy" ending of the essay.

Anyway, it was a pleasure writing for Off Assignment, because their editor really helped me to streamline this essay and punch it up. I'm proud to see it online in such a high-quality publication.

On wildflowers and dog custody battles

My favorite volcano, Mt. Rainier

Returning to Seattle is so bittersweet. There are so many things I love about it (the mountains, the clean streets, the way people are so nice to pedestrians).

The fact that I can teach writing classes at Hugo House again, drink Peet's Coffee, walk around Greenlake, ride my bike with less fear of getting run over.

And so many other things.

Yet, there is a lot more crapola I have to deal with here than when I'm in Mexico. A million doctors appointments and -oscopies and -grams to make up for the ones I didn't do to in Mexico. Spending  fortune on my poor, aging car. Avocadoes that cost $3 piece.

Worst of all, perhaps, is dealing with my ex.

Now my ex, deep down, is a nice person. A kind, empathetic, loving person. But in the latter years of our marriage, he did not act that way for various reasons.

He definitely has not acted that way in the last few months, because since my return to the U.S. in April, he hasn't let me see my dog, Sugar.

Legally, we share Sugar. Up until recently, we have more or less amicably shared her, trading weeks with her when I am in town. And she, being the cutest pug (and possibly the cutest dog) on earth, is one of my greatest joys.

She is smart, fun, cuddly, friendly. Sugar is also much more bonded to my ex than she is to me, and it was like that even before we got divorced, but no matter.

I love her and I miss her so much when I am gone. I look forward to returning to Seattle so I can see her and walk her and hug her and kiss her and play with her.

Now, instead, I am in a legal battle with my ex just so I can see her.

Many wise people have told me just to walk away. To give up. That's it would be better not to have him in my life anyway.

They are right. I probably should. But I haven't been able to.

I have also been asking my mom, in her ethereal state, what I should do. And even she thinks I should walk away. She who loved dogs very much and was never without one.

So along with all the good things about life here: stunning strolls in the mountains, Shakespeare in the park, walking around Greenlake, catching up with friends, camping on islands, and biking on lovely bike paths, I'm gonna be fighting my f*cking ex in court. And missing my lovely little dog so much.

But that's just life isn't it? Always the mixture, the bitter, the sweet, the good, the bad.

In Mexico, it's just a different mix of stuff, maybe a little more on the habanero-chile-flavored side. At least there, I can pretend like the bitter aftermath of this divorce isn't happening.

Here, at least lately, I come face to face with it every day. Not only in with the load of memories that press down on me when I'm here, but now with the glaring absence of Sugar.

Avalanche lilies at Mt. Rainier 

Oh well.

As I battle my ex and miss my dog, I'll try to keep appreciating the good.

Like wildflowers, which almost always boost my mood.

The ambivalent part-time expat (that's me)

 Vallodolid, Yucatan, MX

A few years ago, I had this fantasy that if I could just move to Mexico for six months I would become 1)nearly fluent in Spanish and 2)a more relaxed person who could  3)salsa dance up a storm.

OK, goals two and three are still in progress. But I am happy to report that I am nearly fluent in Spanish. That's because, since 2016, I have spent about a year and a half all-told hanging out down here.

And that, as most of you know, is because I fell in love with a Mexican. Which is really by far the best way to learn Spanish. And though my relationship with him appears to be flourishing, my relationship with Mexico is more tortured. 

Laguna Bacalar, Quintana Roo, MX

I love it on the one hand, because it is absolutely beautiful. The country bursts with natural and cultural treasures. Mountains, lakes, hot springs, charming towns, white-sand beaches, vibrant indigenous culture, gorgeous folk art, a fascinating history that's represented in many well-preserved ruins and archaeological sites.

Then there's the food. Mangos, avocados, tacos al pastor, sopa tarasco, habanero salsa, cemitas, tamales, pan dulce, pan de queso, tlacloyos, chiles en nogada...I could go on listing my favorites. Just know that every region in Mexico has its own twist on these foods, its own specialties, and every region in Mexico thinks it has the best food in all of Mexico. 

Lago de Patzcuaro, Michoacán, MX

And they are probably all right. 

I have been so lucky to travel all over this country. But what I've realized, now that I have spent time living here off and on, is that I much prefer traveling in Mexico to living here. 

Because I am a spoiled American at heart. I know there are many expats who love being here, who have no desire to return to the U.S. - because of its politics, because it's so expensive, because the pace is so hectic, because of many things. 

I don't think I'm one of them though. My heart  belongs to the USA. To Seattle and the northwest. I am a spoiled American at heart and there many things I miss.

Here are just a few of them:

Pachuca, Hidalgo MX

Trader Joe's and Whole Foods. Soy creamer. Peet's Coffee. Thai food. National parks with well-marked trailheads. Composting and recycling. Showers with water pressure and reliable hot water. Knowing that if I have a heart attack in my house, an ambulance will be there promptly to try to save me. People who speak my language. My dog. My car. Artsenal doughnuts.

And yet...
I've been here for four months this time around, and while I want to go home, I also don't want to go home.

Here I can actually afford my life. When I go back to Seattle, this time with my boyfriend in tow (who has miraculously acquired a visa to stay for a while),  I will need to get a better-paying job to pay the rent. Or else I will need to go to a cheaper city where the rents aren't so high, of which there are many, but my heart belongs in Seattle...

Tepoztlan, Morelos MX

Or maybe my heart belongs in Mexico. I don't know. All I know is that being a part-time expat is confusing. It's like I don't exactly know where my home is anymore.

And that's OK for now. After all, as a Gemini, ambivalence is my constant state of being anyway.

Plus, look at all the  cool stuff I've gotten to see in the last four months!

(And if you think this post is really just an excuse to show off some of my recent photos of Mexico, you'd be right). 

Essay publication! "My Mother-In-Law Was Like a Second Mom, and Then I Got Divorced."

Image by  Sammiches  & PsychMeds

Thanks to Sammiches & PsychMeds for publishing my essay My Mother-In-Law Was Like a Second Mom, and Then I Got Divorced.

I wrote that essay about a year ago, when the wounds of my divorce were even fresher. I tried to get it published a few places, but when I didn't, I posted it here on my blog for Mother's Day last year.

When 2019 rolled around and I realized I hadn't PUBLISHED A SINGLE THING in 2018, I told myself I needed to try a little harder . I spend a lot of time writing and most of my stuff never sees the light of day (at least now that I'm not a prolific blogger like I used to be back in the good old Breakup Babe days).

So I tried again to publish this essay, using the likes of Duotrope to help me find markets (a tool I hadn't used before, but which I now highly recommend). At first Sammiches & PsychMeds rejected me, but they did say they liked the idea and if I expanded the essay, they might consider publishing it. 

This made me despair. I mean, it was a compliment, of course. They liked the idea! But it is so hard to go back and edit stuff  that you have already slaved over and "finished" to your own satisfaction. 

But it being a brand new year, I had a little extra energy and drive, and even though the revision process was not pleasant, I went and I did it. And you know what? I think they were right, the essay is better for the stuff I added to it. 

Their editors made me think harder about how losing my mother-in-law has affected my life. There was a lot of crying during this rewrite, which surprised me, because I thought my wounds were healing up. But they are still plenty raw. 

Which makes for the best writing, right? As various famous writers have said, the best writing happens when you bleed onto the page. 

So thanks again to Sammiches and PsychMeds for encouraging me to bleed a little bit more.