Sandra Rose Hughes

Not too long ago, I wrote the post, "Can Stripping in your Car Lead to True Love?" about the night I met my now-husband Anthony at the Yule, a Christmas Banquet held by my college (California Baptist University) every year. I met him during my sophomore year. What I haven't told you about yet was my date for the Yule msy freshman year. I don't quite remember how I met Isaac. I think he was in the cafeteria, eating his third serving of food. For some reason (I guess I was feeling brave that day), we started up a conversation. He was a good-looking guy with black curly hair and deep brown eyes. He was very tall and masculine- probably one of those guys who started growing chest hair in the 6th grade. Isaac was a great conversationalist. I ended up sitting at his table for his fourth serving of food and talking to him for the next hour and a half. He talked about really interesting things, and as he talked or listened to me talk, he would stare directly into my eyes wi

In the life of a trailer dweller, few phrases inspire more fear than the utterance, "the toilet tank is full." With those words comes blame and recrimination. "Did you put enough water down the tank, Sandy?" "I always put enough water down the tank, Anthony - maybe you didn't!" And after a few more rounds of the blame cycle, my husband will volunteer, like a true hero. "Fine. I'll deal with it." "Oh, good! I'll cheer you on. From inside." For any of you non-trailer dwellers, you lucky people with toilets that actually flush, let me explain how the toilet tank works. Basically, our trailer bathroom sits on top of a 20-gallon septic tank. When you use the toilet, you push a lever with your foot which opens a hole directly into the tank and sends all the bodily fluids and solids and a lot of water down into it. Theoretically, the bacteria and the water in the tank will break down the solids and they will move out of the traile

My husband Anthony and I had just come back from a visit to his parent's place. They have about 15 acres of land. It is a nice property with one small residence, an above ground pool, an orchard, a large vegetable garden, a grape arbor, a flower garden, and rocks and weeds. A lot of rocks and weeds. It was my husband's dream that someday...when his parents built a larger home on the property, then we would move into their small residence (which was originally only meant to be a garage but they ended up living in it for 30 years) and eventually build our larger home on the property. At that point, the garage/house would actually be used as a garage. Anthony and I had only been married for two years. We lived in a 2-bedroom rental a few miles away from his parents. Rent was cheap, and the house was hideous outside, but inside we'd created quite a comfortable little home for ourselves. A home where I felt safe and happy. Anthony often discussed the "move-up-there-and-bui

I took the pork chops out of the freezer this morning and set them on a plate in the refrigerator. This may sound insignificant...but it's not. Taking frozen meat out of the freezer is a promise to yourself. It's a promise that sometime in the next 2 or 3 days...you will return to the meat and actually spend time preparing and cooking it before it spoils. Meat is expensive. Our pork chops came from a local student who raised a pig for FFA. The 1/2 pig that we purchased cost about $4.00 a pound which is not bad when you consider that it was locally raised, killed, and butchered in healthy conditions. For me to actually remove the meat from its frozen security, thereby risking high-quality humane organic $4.00/lb meat to the possibility that I will be too busy to prepare it before it spoils was a big deal. It signifies that I have something very valuable in my life again: TIME. It's been at least 3 months since I defrosted meat. Most of the people I know my age are in the s

There is a scene in the play, "You Can't Take it With You," where Grandpa Vanderhof gets visited by an IRS agent because he hasn't paid his taxes. Ever. When the IRS agent asks him why, the grandfather just replies that he doesn't ever see tax money going anywhere useful and he throws the responsibility back on the agent to explain what they need all that money for. The IRS agent mutters something about the military needing it, and roads and schools, and of course, the constitution. The grandfather argues that the constitution was paid for a long time ago and maybe those other things are important, but he thinks they're only worth about $15.00 for the lot. We sent in our federal income tax forms today. I do often wonder about the purpose of all that money. Roads and schools are good...but doesn't my state pay for most of that? The military is good...but do they really need that much of my money for it? Is my money paying for people on welfare? Or unemploym

I went outside yesterday morning and breathed in the fresh spring air. For the first time in a while the future seemed bright. Is it that the play I'm directing is almost over? Is it that the yearbook is almost completed? Could it be that I finally got enough sleep? Or is it just spring?