Coffee Walk

 The other day, my iphone made me one of those videos.

You know — the kind that pops up unsolicited when you open your screen to do something productive, like read an email, or look up directions, or text your mom.

Usually, I don’t like them. They feel manipulative, imposing, intrusive.

Maybe it’s because they start with the words “Over the Years” and then send me hurtling back through time — often so far that I land in the years before the accident.

Wasn’t that fun? the video taunts. “Wasn’t life easy back then?”

Yes. And yes.

But hey — I’ve worked hard to live in the present!

This particular video started playing before I could close it out.

And I knew immediately — between reading an email and texting my mom, of course— that it would make a great postcard.

It was called "Freshly Brewed," and was like a playlist of the best coffees I've had since 2019.

To watch the video, click here.

It was after the accident that I started drinking coffee...

Dancing Queen?

I’m on the makeshift stage of a bookstore — 3,000 miles from home — singing along to “Dancing Queen” with 15 of my newest friends.

Also, it’s 10 PM.

I don’t do evening activities. I can’t carry a tune. And I definitely don’t dance.

To be perfectly honest, I was planning to skip karaoke. When I saw it on the schedule, I didn’t give a single thought to going.

It was the last night of the Book Passage Travel Writers and Photographers Conference, and part of me didn’t want to miss a moment.

But another part — the physical, practical, protective part — knew my story better. By evening, my body gets the best of me. Doing too much can push me into overload. I need time to rest, unwind, and take my leg off.

And so, when the last workshop ended, I slipped out the back door of the bookstore to walk to the hotel.

Before I settled in, I needed to refill my water bottle. In the glow of the hotel courtyard, I passed by the pool and headed to the fitness center, where there was a cold water fill-up station.

That’s when I heard it. A voice from above...

The Worst Part About Travel

 The worst part about travel is stepping out the door.

Am I forgetting something? 
Will this tank-top be crucial? 
Do I have all my meds?

And what if _______ or _______ or ________ happens?? (Enter worst nightmares here.)

Exhibit A

The closer a trip gets, the more I feel like staying home...