I write about travel, work and money. Sometimes fiction.
First Place in Travel Cuisine Challenge.
Vocal had a truly special writer, Tom Bradbury whom we lost. Please read & enjoy his work and keep his words alive.
Ten Things I Hate About You
Dear Mr. Sanderz, Do you want to know why I call you Mr. Sanderz? That was the name written over Winne the Pooh's door. My use is ironic. You're like Pooh would have been if he was a mogwai and someone fed him honey after midnight and he turned into a Gremlin. You have claws, sharp teeth and a bad attitude.
Middle class suburban Maryland was not the sort of place you'd expect to find a coven of witches. Or a ring of underwear thieves. Or both at the same time.
At Sea's Edge
Here I lie, cradled in cool sand, drowsy from salt air, enfolded by a tree whose low branches sweep the margin of this beach.
If you want to fall in love with the world, really fall in love with it, watch a birth. Better yet, move to a developing country, work as a fundraiser for a birth centre for poor families, have no experience of birth yourself, and then watch a baby born into water.
"And the CNN Hero of the Year for 2011 is ..."
I looked around the spacious living room. The entire administrative staff from the Bumi Sehat center was crowded in, pairs of people wedged into chairs meant for one (Indonesian style), sitting cross legged on the floor, stretched out on the massive carved Chinese teak bed or leaning against the wooden walls of the joglo, or traditional Javanese wooden house.
Part 9: Karma is a Bitch (literally)
This is the last installment of the first Vocal Creators Saloon story series. Before reading this piece, please be sure to read the first eight parts that precede it. Each is written by a different member of the Vocal Creators Saloon Facebook Group:
Knit One, Breathe One
Knit 1, breath in. Purl 1, breath out. When my mother was dying of cancer, I would sit by her side for hours at night, as she slept, keeping watch. I would knit in those empty hours, when the world was still and my focus shrank to the soft sound of my mother's breaths and the click-click of acrylic needles. Without thought, I would match my stitches to her breaths. Knit 1, breath in. Purl 1, breath out. As long as she was breathing, I told myself, she was still with us. I used a lot of moss (or seed stitch) as it was simple and repetitious, just alternating knit and purl. I worked on easy projects: cowls and scarves. No shaping, no increases and decreases. I had little energy for decisions or following directions. When my eyes drooped, and I started miscounting stitches, I would put my work down, and tip toe to bed.
How Bali Taught Me to Love Tempe
Before I moved to Bali, I didn't really care for tempe (or tempeh, as it's spelled in the West). The few times I'd ordered it in vegetarian restaurants, it was cooked in a stew or grilled as a whole cake, and tasted soggy or bland. But that's not the best way to eat this unique fermented food made from soybeans. Indonesia is full of a range of delicious recipes made from tempe, and the people here have been cooking with it for hundreds of years. After all, they invented tempe.