Ellen Greene

Fairy Godmother

By Ellen Greene
hello@ellengreene.org

Once upon a time I played the role of fairy godmother in a true life love story. It was twenty years ago this month, my friend Sheila reminded me yesterday in an email.

Marsh and I were living in Shanghai, China in 1992 when we received old fraternity buddy Walter’s sad, shocking news. His wife and our dear friend, Kathy, 45, had died of cancer at home in Connecticut. Walter felt relieved that the battle was over and resigned, at age 60, to continuing on alone with the things the two of them enjoyed. Travel was their special passion. He would never give that up, he said, and he hoped our paths would cross again soon.

Meanwhile Sheila, my roommate at University of Wisconsin, Madison during the Vietnam war protest years, was now divorced and living in Massachusetts. She had traveled a long, tortuous road that left her wrung out and afraid of taking another chance at love. Besides, she had two kids to raise, and mothering would always be Job One, she said.

Hombres de la Costa

By Ellen Greene
hello@ellengreene.org

I was surprised to hear three pickups arrive the other morning and the chatter of men ready to work on the retaining walls they started a few weeks ago. No matter that Hurricane Jova was ploughing across the Pacific, headed right for us, and local schools were closed that day and the next  as a precaution. 

I had battened down my hatches the night before: porch furniture moved inside; wooden interior shutters closed and fastened; electronics unplugged; cell phone charged. I tossed and turned inside my airless bedroom, waiting for the wind and rain, preferring a sleepless night to bolting awake to the sound of shutters banging themselves silly against concrete block walls. 

But nothing happened. Nothing to show the next morning for all the CNN weather hype except an overcast sky and intermittent light drizzle. My workers scoffed.

Lola Hates Bottle Rockets

By Ellen Greene
hello@ellengreene.org

Lola the Lab and I are back  home in San Pancho at Quinta Elena. As usual, “Elena” has attended to a lot of fixes her first week back: dead phone line; no internet access; air conditioners malfunctioning; satellite TV receiver on the fritz. Everything fixed now. Tenacity and cash are all that is required.

Lola’s re-entry problems continue, however. Our return coincides with the “fiestas patronales” in San Pancho. Ten days of bands battling it out until 1 or 2 AM and bottle rockets going off from dawn to dusk, with fireworks added to the mix after dark.  Poor old Lola, now age 13, trembles in fear and hides behind chairs. The bottle rockets scare her the most. No amount of calm talk and pats can seem to stop her panting and shaking.

A Less Boring Stir-Fry

By Ellen Greene
hello@ellengreene.org 

Single people like me do a lot of stir-fries. Maybe because we have so much produce rotting in our refrigerator. I for one am full of good intentions when it comes to eating more vegetables, especially while in the supermarket faced with mounds of  misted greens. But to cook for one is boring enough without also having to turn out nutritious food.

So too many nights my dinner is crackers and cheese with an apple on the side in order to feel virtuous. Or virtue be hanged, a supper of hot buttered popcorn, heavy on the salt, a cracked wooden salad bowl filled to the brim. Guilt appeased the next few nights by slicing and dicing now wilted veggies, which I fry in a wok wannabe and douse with soy sauce.  Could a meal be more boring?

One List, Two Lives, and Twenty Years of Marriage

When a librarian raves about Remember the Sweet Things, I feel especially proud. This review appeared last week on the website of the King County (Washington State) Library System. 
-- Ellen Greene

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Posted by Destinee @ Bellevue, King County Library

There are a lot of books out there about unhappy marriages. You have your Ethan Fromes, your Anna Kareninas, your Tesses of the D'Ubervilles. Tragic relationships can make for interesting reading, but don't you sometimes want to read about a remarkably happy marriage? Better yet, how about a happy marriage that actually existed in real life? 

In a world where it's easy to be down on marriage, Remember the Sweet Things: One List, Two Lives, and Twenty Years of Marriage is the antidote to such cynicism. In it, author Ellen Greene relates her history with men, including her rocky first marriage, her experiences as a single parent, and the job she took that led her to her future husband Marsh. The book is a memoir that stands in testament to the real, lasting love between Ellen and Marsh, and it's also a reminder to each of us to "remember the sweet things" our own loved ones do for us.

A Good Read on Writing

By Ellen Greene
hello@ellengreene.org 

My favorite tactic to avoid writing is to read about writing. So imagine my delight when procrastinating while reading the invaluable Self-Editing for Fiction Writers by Renni Browne and Dave King. This book, sure to help me improve my work, comes packed with good advice plus practice exercises that include recommended right answers/professional edits. 

Consider the authors’ advice to steer clear of as and –ing constructions. In “Pulling off her gloves, she turned to face him” and “As she pulled off her gloves, she turned to face him” the act of glove-pulling is confined in a dependent clause. This weakens both the action and the writing, Browne and King contend. Besides, “hacks have long ago driven these sometimes useful constructions into the ground.”

How We Spent Our Summer Vacation

By Ellen Greene
hello@ellengreene.org 

Two weeks ago, Lily, Anna, and I hit the road, headed again for the East Coast. This time we would add Washington, DC to stops in New York City, Weston, Connecticut, and Cape Cod that we made a couple of years ago.

The girls are real troopers and make sassy, fun, thoughtful travel companions. They pack light, rarely complain, mind their manners while staying in other people’s homes, and are up for everything, from canoeing to museum hopping to aimless wandering just to see what we see. They’re tough, too. Keep them fed and watered, and they’ll go for hours.

Prepping for Rain

By Ellen Greene
hello@ellengreene.org 

A land crab sidled across my kitchen floor this morning.  It is a sign that the rains will begin soon.  No bigger than baseballs, scores of these bug-eyed critters pop out of holes in the ground and invade our houses every June, climbing up walls and steps, urged on by a biological imperative.

When I first came to the Bay of Banderas on Mexico’s Pacific coast and experienced this June crab phenomenon, I eyed the road and dodged the crossing crabs wherever possible.  Like some kind of devout Buddhist, I felt that even a homely little crustacean deserved to live. Which probably amused or annoyed the drivers forced to creep along behind me. But now, after 14 years here, I barely hear the crunch of them under my tires.  The sound of them skittering under chairs doesn’t startle me. I just go for the broom and push them out the door.

Lessons from a House

By Ellen Greene
hello@ellengreene.org

I was thinking today about two houses in Latin America that I’ve called my own. How the Widow Greene has covered a lot of ground in forty years and should do a better job of counting her blessings.

What brought this about was a warm, sunny day in Mexico, perfect for wallowing in my salt water pool with a view of the San Pancho beach and the sea. My pool. With a view of the sea. Sitting below a house filled with artesania I gathered on pleasure trips all across Mexico. An air conditioned house with a dishwasher, satellite TV, broadband access, and study shelves stuffed with books I might not even get to, now that I have an iPad.

I’m spoiled rotten.

Inside the Gates

By Ellen Greene
hello@ellengreene.org 

A few weeks ago, son Michael treated us to a two-day stay “inside the gates,” as locals say, meaning inside the gated community called Punta Mita Resorts. We would be spending the night, partaking of all the amenities offered by one of the hotels, the prestigious St. Regis, while Michael photographed us enjoying ourselves.

His idea, as marketing person for the Resorts, was to put a face of normalcy on a spectacular experience. No bikini-clad models sauntering into the surf; no staged shots of colorful cocktails and perfectly plated food; no purple sunsets. Just our little family of two adults and two kids, acting normally. As if $900 a night hotel rooms were no big deal for the likes of us.

So he snapped ten-year old Anna bouncing on the bed.

He got birthday girl Lily’s twelve-year old grin as waiters presented her with a miniature chocolate cake, dusted in gold.