No, that rainbow painted truck is not an attack on you. That Pride Parade is not telling you to change your family structure or personal beliefs. No, that gay man won’t make your son gay.

No, having a gay character represented in a movie is not indoctrination. If it is, so is having a heterosexual character. Maybe we should eliminate it all for anyone under 16. Do we really need to become asexual in all things? Oh, and they’ll learn about it all in other less reliable ways.

If a child insists on saying he is a she, or she is a he, or they in either case, it is not the place of the state to dictate and force the issue…this is a parental decision on how to approach this and work with their teachers and their child. P. S. See how easy it is to use gender neutral pronouns?

If you need to use God and religion (Christianity specific) to justify your belief that you can dictate how others should act and be, you kind of missed a whole section of the teachings.

Religion is a personal choice, not to be used as legal justification to impose beliefs on others. If you don’t want Sharia law; you shouldn’t want Christian law or Jewish law, or any religious based law.

Calm your jets, stop the attacks. Your -isms are showing. Your way of life is not under a microscope. That rainbow painted truck is not an attack on your beliefs.

The hours ticked away as the miles flew by. She sat, her legs stretched across the back seat. She watched the cars and the scenery pass by.

The car had grown serious, stoic faces abound. Quiet murmurs in passing. Soft touches on shoulders now and then. Hugs and tears, sniffles and stiffening to stifle it all back.

Nothing to be done. The pain pills from the surgery only days before made her senses dull; grateful for the respite from the emotions she might really feel.

Food was needed; the journey only half done. Quick and open at this late hour left few choices. The checkerboard floor made her sway. Footing was not easy as she navigated her way to the booth. 60s swing played in the background.

The upbeat music did not match the mood at the table. Burgers, fries and shakes were served. The pain killers kicked in and she bobbed her head to the beat.

Her mother and uncles stared at her, then finally cracked. Briefly the mood lifted as life does continue despite their loss. Laughter filled the air just a moment…A moment which brought some needed relief before they continued their journey.

More tears would fall, but that interlude was so needed in that moment.

May you find the rays of light when you can and know the darkness will give way in time.

Death carries such finality but memories live on.

Influences and habits make us who we are,

Even when we reject beliefs they instill.

The body may be out of our touch,

But their love still fills our hearts.

Pain follows their passing, an emptiness surrounds.

Time may lessen the hurt,

Fear not, good days will return.

Remember the good times,

Embrace those moments, hold them near.

Remember, they may be gone, but never forgotten.

The skies outside are dark, but my eyes are wide awake. The jet lag interferes with my sleep; in just a few hours, I’ll need a nap.

I wander to the balcony. Waves crash in the distance while little finches and chickadees chirp. Soon the sun will come, but I have energy to burn now.

I slip on sneakers and shorts…and a shirt too…and head down to the lobby. A few other jet lagged souls stumble around, trying to figure out if it is night or day.

I take a sip from my water bottle. Do I walk or sit and relax? Too much energy and too stiff to sit anymore, although by looking at me, you’d never know.

I set out on the paved path along the shore. The night lasts a little longer. Then I see the deep blue lighten up; dawn approaches.

I turn back. The walk back to the resort is shorter than the walk out. I find a seat and enjoy the birds as the rest of the world wakens.

In the distance I see rain over Lanai while the morning light dances on Molokai’s East shore. Occasional mist droplets reach my legs, but not enough to call it rain.

Joggers and walkers make their way on the path I already took. Others with coffee in hand take a seat, ready to watch morning come.

Lawnmowers start up, more birds join in on the cacophony. So much for a peaceful sunrise!No worries, it’s good to see the world awake. Time for breakfast, then I need a nap!

Mind racing, but it’s time to relax.

Dizzying thoughts swirl, while motion sways,

All this movement throws me off all balance,

And the body surrenders.

Finally, finding footing once more,

But still the mind pounds, and the unease remains.

Did I forget something;

did I leave anything undone;

What if I forgot something…

But there’s no going back now.

Too many miles from home,

And no way to fix things at work for two weeks;

How will I survive this time away?

Will I make it through my anxiety of travel?

Breath in. Breath out. Repeat.

Maybe relaxation will begin when we arrive;

Maybe then this weight will finally lift.

Stress building, piling on unnecessarily.

Vacation is coming, but demands at work demand.

It is time to walk away from the chaos,

It is time my brain had a moment.

I’m making mistakes due to overload,

And losing my cool, truth be told.

Maybe this isn’t for me after all,

Let me study data and chart out the needs,

All this management just feeds my anxiety.

The break can’t come soon enough,

And I know I’ll just be so nervous while I am gone.

But, I need the break, my mind is taxed.

It’s almost time for me just to relax!

Bagels…

Now, don’t get me wrong. The taste of an everything bagel with a fried egg, bacon and Swiss is delicious for breakfast. It’s especially divine when someone else makes it and serves it to me with a lovely London Fog – Island style.

But, still, I hate everything bagels.

Their oniony smell permeates all other bagel flavors when buying a bakers dozen. No one likes to bite into their cinnamon crunch and taste onion!

Their poppy seeds and sesame seeds litter the counter. No matter how much I wipe, more appear even when no bagels had been consumed.

The scent of the bagel wafts through the air, even when it is only sourdough slices being toasted up. That scent invades my nostrils when I’m only wanting a whiff of fresh bread.

But still, the bag ends up in the basket whenever we run low. It’s a staple I can’t avoid. I hate everything….bagels.

I’m addicted. Not necessarily to eating it, but more to making it. Slowly, it is becoming a Sunday ritual.

First comes the garlic. I slide the papery covered cloves into a tube and roll until they release. Then I work my knife all around until it is finely chopped. I’ve also done the whole “rub the bowl” with a clove trick. I slide the garlic to one corner of the chopping board.

Next, I ready the lime. Sliced in half, I put half to the side and slice 4 wedges. Lime just smells so fresh…and helps neutralize the garlic a little on my fingers.

Now, the onion. I probably should do this before the lime. Maybe next time. I slice and dice it into little bits. The purple is pretty next to the creamy white garlic and the bright green lime.

Now, tomato! My serrated knife makes quick work to seed the tomatoes then slice and dice into perfect little chunks.

Next, some sprigs of cilantro. I go a little light with just two stalks. Rinse, pat dry, and chop it up. The chopping block is full of color now.

I pull out the cotija cheese to add at the end, and some salt. I also pull out the adobo san pimento as an extra hit of flavor.

All this chopping has relaxed me. I pull out the bowl and now it’s finally time. I grab the slim cado, a large smooth skinned avocado, and cut it in two. I remove the pit and segment the flesh, then scoop it out into the bowl.

Now the fun part. First, I squeeze the lime over the avocado and give it a toss. Then, I grab the smasher and begin mashing away. The yellow highlights blend in with the green meat.

I sprinkle in some adobo and salt, then grab a spoon and slide the blend of cuttings from the chopping block into the bowl. I stir everything lightly, blending all the flavors. Finally I break off a piece of cotija and crumble it atop the guacamole.

Now it’s ready to serve. I smile as I dish it out into mini bowls, then tightly cover the rest with cling wrap before putting it in the fridge.

Who knew making guacamole would be such a zen experience?!

She grimaced as she sat down. The black cape was securely snapped in place. She held up her phone showing her the picture.

“It’s time.”

“Shampoo cut and style?”

She nodded and followed her to the sink. A nice scalp massage and squeeze dry, then it was back to the chair.

She didn’t want to watch as the inches of curls fell away. Nine months of trying to grow it out, but it just wouldn’t cooperate. It should have been ponytail ready for the coming heatwaves, but the sides just refused.

“It came back in nicely though. The medicine is working.”

She smiled back, but realized long locks were never to be again. Her shoulders couldn’t handle the time it took to straighten it, and her hair was really too thin.

The stylist trimmed around her ears. A flash of white caught her eye.

“Wow, that is bright!”

“It’s a pretty grey,” she assured her, “It will be much cooler too!”

She knew, and she was tired of the disheveled look her curls usually brought.

A blow-dry, a few stray trims, and it was done.

“Thanks!”

She smiled at the mirror into her sleeker, more in-charge look. Her head felt lighter and her neck felt the cool air once again. She was sad at undoing all her hard work, but glad to have a fresh look at the same time.

The floor around her was littered with her failure, but at least it wasn’t her on her head, serving up a constant reminder. She settled up and walked out with a new outlook.