Photo
The ultimate pad thai. August 2014, Cha-am. 
Fon’s lovely mother and grandmother prepare us a beach-side feast. More about this special day in my August AARP post. 

The ultimate pad thai. August 2014, Cha-am. 

Fon’s lovely mother and grandmother prepare us a beach-side feast. More about this special day in my August AARP post

Link

I’ve been in Thailand less than three weeks, so it’s safe to say I don’t know much. But as my Turkish friend Evrim said recently via email, “first impression gives you the clue.” My August AARP post is about Mother’s Day here, just a few days into our adventure. Fon, a dear friend and classmate of mine, invited us to go to the beach — and could we stop to worship her great grandmother first? A clue, indeed, and a good one.

Photo
A grand new view. August 2014, Bangkok.
After months of talking about it and planning for it and talking about planning for it, we are finally here in Thailand.
Today is my first day of classes, but this past week and a half has been a crash course in all things Thai. We’ve fumbled our way through orders of noodles and duck, dumplings and dough balls, khao neow (sticky rice) and moo ping (grilled pork) and cha nom (milk tea). We’ve tasted durian cracked open at the beach, and longan purchased out of a pickup. We’ve ridden in boats and Skytrains and neon pink taxis with drivers who use highway lanes like suggestions. We’ve bowed before Buddha, bent every which way for a massage, and watched Muay Thai in the lobby with our 70-something landlord.
Minus a touch of food poisoning — a rite of passage? — life is good. And the year is just beginning.

A grand new view. August 2014, Bangkok.

After months of talking about it and planning for it and talking about planning for it, we are finally here in Thailand.

Today is my first day of classes, but this past week and a half has been a crash course in all things Thai. We’ve fumbled our way through orders of noodles and duck, dumplings and dough balls, khao neow (sticky rice) and moo ping (grilled pork) and cha nom (milk tea). We’ve tasted durian cracked open at the beach, and longan purchased out of a pickup. We’ve ridden in boats and Skytrains and neon pink taxis with drivers who use highway lanes like suggestions. We’ve bowed before Buddha, bent every which way for a massage, and watched Muay Thai in the lobby with our 70-something landlord.

Minus a touch of food poisoning — a rite of passage? — life is good. And the year is just beginning.

Chat

Meeting the Dog Next Door

  • Neighbor: Her name is Zoe.
  • Me: Hi, Zoe! Is it okay to pet her?
  • Neighbor: Of course.
  • Me: Oh Zoe, I have been loving you from afar...
  • Neighbor: She prefers to be loved up close, like the rest of us.
Photo
Dibi found me. June 2014, Charleston.
I’ve been thinking a lot about my grandmother lately. Maybe it’s because of all the colors in bloom. We planted our little pots — once a stoop garden — and they’re happy so far here in Ohio.
Last night, I spent the evening at a coffee shop, writing my latest post for AARP. The sky was black when I snagged a window seat and plugged in my laptop. I started writing about Dibi and Alzheimer’s disease and how our family supported her (and each other) for so many years.
The rain started and the petunias in the hanging baskets outside danced. I wrote and wrote, and once it was time to leave, the rain stopped. The sky was ash grey with bright pink and yellow clouds. I stopped to breathe it all in. Hi, Dibi.

Dibi found me. June 2014, Charleston.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my grandmother lately. Maybe it’s because of all the colors in bloom. We planted our little pots — once a stoop garden — and they’re happy so far here in Ohio.

Last night, I spent the evening at a coffee shop, writing my latest post for AARP. The sky was black when I snagged a window seat and plugged in my laptop. I started writing about Dibi and Alzheimer’s disease and how our family supported her (and each other) for so many years.

The rain started and the petunias in the hanging baskets outside danced. I wrote and wrote, and once it was time to leave, the rain stopped. The sky was ash grey with bright pink and yellow clouds. I stopped to breathe it all in. Hi, Dibi.

Photo
#SentimentalSunday. The 80s, Indiana.
Mom, thanks for the road map.

#SentimentalSunday. The 80s, Indiana.

Mom, thanks for the road map.