lola guerrero

50-something empty-nest-search-for-God-and-happiness with more than a dash of humor

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Louis Vuitton Diaper Bag

IMG_0640-2It’s been a week of “my world has ended” feelings.
Sometimes we desire something
so much, but we can’t have it.
The stars and moon will simply not line up just for us.

On Monday, I found the house of my dreams. It had
everything I ever wanted like dark hardwood floors and a toilet
that sprays and cleans your behind. I thought I had died and gone to heaven
when I saw the travertine backsplash in the kitchen. I had to touch it.
And there was even a bonus room for all of my grandson’s toys and
stuffed animals.
Within 24 hours, a three-buyer bidding war was going on
and I was not in the middle of it!

Dammit! It is a sellers market out there
so you have to decide within a day if you want to place a bid.
Yeah, right! Let me sign the papers right now.
I’m not like that. I need time to be alone and THINK and PRAY.
I need time to have a Krispy Kreme and a cup of cappuccino.

“C’mon . . . Hon, it’s not the time to think, pray, and eat doughnuts.
Right now you have to jump in. Play with the big dogs,” says Ole Wise One.

How I love this man and his motivational speeches.

Not getting my dream home is not the end
of my world I say to myself to nurse my worn out soul.
I can always get a fixer-upper
and install my own top-of-the-line toilet
that cleans every inch of my ASS.

Life could be a lot worse.
My sister Rita’s world ends once a month.

“Lolaaa . . . ,” she sobs over the phone.

I take a deep breath and let it out.

“Am I being punished by the Pregnant Gods?”


“I don’t think so. You’re a lovely person.”

“I don’t understand. I can’t get pregnant.
And trying is not fun anymore. It’s work.”


I feel for her. I’m always speechless when I get her calls. Which is strange for me. Having words come out of my mouth all the time is my norm.

So, my sister badly wants a baby.

“Are your husband’s sperm not great swimmers? Are they having
trouble swimming upstream?” I ask.

“Well, it seems my egg and his sperm just refuse to connect. Why can’t I get pregnant?”

“Be open to adopting a newborn. You can provide a child with lots of love and annual trips to Disneyland,” I tell her.

“But, I want to experience being pregnant.”

“It’s not that fun,” I say trying to make her feel better. “You throw up for two months, gain 30 lbs,
and your ankles swell up.”

“Adopting just isn’t the same.”

“So you want to throw up and gain weight.”

“Yes!” More crying. “Everyone around me is pregnant. We are so ready.” She blows her nose.

“We have a 3-bedroom home, a gardener to mow our huge backyard, a steady income. Just last week I bought a Louis Vuitton  bag thinking I can use it for a diaper bag.”

“Dangg Girlfriend. Your hubby must be making some
good dough. You got an LV bag? Text me a picture. ”

“Stop, I’m serious Lola.”

“Me, too. I want a LV bag.”

She and I broke out laughing.


At times, I don’t know why we can’t have what we want and
what we desire no matter how many Hail Marys we send to up to the
sky or how long we sit in meditation and try to visualize our perfect outcome.

Sometimes, the moon and stars will not line up in your favor.

I told my sister who I hold close to my heart, “Perhaps there is newborn baby boy for you who needs you as much as you need him. Think about that.”

For me, my dream home was snatched by away by some hot-shot bidder. But, I have to remain open and be positive that something better is right around the corner.

Dear God
You say that “My thoughts are not your thoughts” and
“My ways go far beyond more than you can imagine.”
I will stand by your truth.

Comfort my sister and all the other couples in this world who are waiting
on your perfect will.



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Drug of Choice

this is your face when you eat donuts and cupcakes

This is your face when you eat doughnuts and cupcakes–FAT!

Today was a Krispy Kreme day.

Going into the drive-thru I was tempted to order five
original Krispy Kreme doughnuts and gobble them all
in one sitting.

However, I have self-control. I bought only one.
From past experience, I know that one donut will
satisfy my craving
and make me content for awhile.
Five donuts will send my mind and body as high
as the sky. Then, I will  spiral down and fall into a coma.

“Napkin please,” I ask.
“You need a napkin for one doughnut?” she says.
Oh great, we have a comedian working at Krispy

Be nice, Lola, you were at bible class two hours ago,
I tell myself. What did you learn in class? To be good to
people. That includes the drive-thru cashier at your
favorite doughnut shop!

With my hands on 10 and 2 on the wheel, I can’t decide
if I should wait until I get to my destination or eat the
doughnut NOW.

I talk myself into waiting for the perfect time to eat.
See, a warm Krispy Kreme doughnut should not be
stuffed within seconds in your mouth.
It needs to be gently unwrapped. I like to get my
nose close to the doughnut 
to smell the mixture of
sugar and fat that will 
travel down to my butt and thighs
to live there 
till the day I die.

It was past noon and I had to get to my second
appointment. “I can’t be late for my accountant. I was
already late for bible study two hours ago. And I can’t
eat and drive. I need to concentrate. I say out loud to
no one in my car.

The day was chaotic.  I was not present at all.
My breathing was tight. I couldn’t wait for the
day to get over with.

But I was determined to show up no matter what
crazy frame of mind I was in.
My mantra to calm down was “This too shall pass.”
Didn’t work. I had enough anxiety for 20 people.

What was getting to me was making a decision
about buying a home my husband and I are looking at.
After my CPA meeting, I  had another appointment to
meet our real estate agent so I could look over the
house just one more time.

This home had street appeal, a three-car garage, and
a new deck. But, I had reservations about it. Perhaps
it was the price. You think? No . . . maybe what bothered
me was the five bedrooms I was going to have to vacuum
each week.

Buying a home. It is not like buying a pair of shoes at
Nordstrom. You can’t return a home you decided
doesn’t fit the following week. 
It’s a big ordeal.

Arriving at my CPA’s office. I surprised myself. I had
20 minutes before my appointment. I made a quick
phone call.

Then, I glanced down at my doughnut patiently
waiting for me. “Come to mama,” I said. My drug for
the moment. 
There is nothing that a KK doughnut can’t cure.

Checking myself in my mirror for traces of sugar on my lips . . .
I felt better.
I treated myself to some sugar.
The drug of my choice when my life is anxiety-ridden
and big decisions have to be made.

Dear God,
Buying a home is a big decision.
I wish you could text me and give me
the address to our next home.
It would make life easier.
But I do know you don’t text.

It is by  faith and believing in all things
that the right thing will happen.
Your timing is perfect. The perfect home
will appear at the best time and place.
Give me patience as I wait for you to
answer my prayers.
Thank you.
Amen, Lola

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He Is The Yin To My Yang, Part 2



At that high price it should be ready to move in. We shouldn’t have to hire a carpenter to make a few changes. My emotions got the best of me. Anyway, I learned another buyer made an offer. Oh, well. Still, I have to keep reminding myself that the condo wasn’t that perfect.

Alright, I feel better now that I got my thoughts down on paper and I shared all my aches and pains on life. I decided not to go round two on a butter croissant.

I know I’m not alone in this. We all go through job changes, longing for that someone, or worry about when we will get to step into that perfect home.

I do know this. When I begin to over analyze what my son is doing with his life and when I long for Napoleon to come live with me, I know I’m out of balance. When I begin to lose sleep over granite counter tiles and my vision is narrow, I need spiritual intervention. I know that I have to get back to my faith. I know in my heart that God holds the key to our next home. I have to believe that.


I am thankful for the recent development in Ralph’s life. He now has a weekend waiter job. He can live off his tips. Though I’m not with Napoleon every minute of the day. I am blessed. He is a big, bouncy, healthy, with-lots-of-energy toddler.

I know for sure that God knows what kind of condo or home I desire.
He has one in mind. I know the perfect one is out there for us. And it will be exactly what I had taped on my vision board. There is no need to hire a contractor to make a tiny office.

Just know, when life gets hectic and it’s not going the way you want and you want to inhale everything on the menu . . . stop and ask yourself, What’s eating me?

Then pray to the Holy One. He knows what is in your heart.

Dear God,
When life is nothing but a blur and nothing is going the way we want it to, lift our eyes to the cross. Dry our tears and remind us to surrender all things to you.
You will do a much better job than we could ever imagine.
Thank you.
Amen, Lola

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He Is The Yin To My Yang, Part 1





Ever have days that you want to eat everything?

Like you want to order TWO butter croissant to go with your triple grande latte. I mean two croissants? Really? 

Right now, I’m thinking about ordering another one because I devoured the first one. I’m patiently waiting in my office, which is Starbucks, for my creative cells in my brain to kick in so I can send  a draft to my editor, Mary Beth, to “clean it up” a bit.

Or, I can bag my writing all together for today and go across the street to McDonald’s and order a Big Mac with cheese, super-sized greasy fries, and a large Diet Coke.

I could go to the pizza joint next door and get a glass of wine, but it’s a bit early for Merlot.

When I have this need to eat everything in sight, I know it’s not about what to eat.
It’s what’s eating me that is the problem.

See, I know all about my moods and my particular frame of mind and body  because of all my self love, self talk, self-help books, meditation tapes, yoga retreats, silent retreats, and ten years of therapy.

Well, I might as well share with you what is eating me.

First, Ralph, my son in New York, quit his full-time job at a talent agency. A job he said he really wanted. I don’t understand these young ones. Why can’t he work there for 50  years and then retire with his bulging 401k folder and retirement gift of a nice watch? But, he tells me he is confused. “I’m  50,” I tell him.  “And, I’m as confused as ever!”

Second, the other day, I received pictures of Napoleon going to the zoo with his mom Ruth and other grandma. I felt jealous of the other grandma. She gets to be with him more than me. She gets to hold him and squeeze his fat cheeks. Napoleon’s parents tell me he is so big! At 15 months, he weighs 32 pounds. He is bigger and stronger than his nanny.


Now, if he was here, I wouldn’t be at Starbucks on the pity pot, crying over what I don’t have. Napoleon  and I would be at  McDonald’s  and ordering two HAPPY MEALS. And being satisfied. 

Third, last weekend my real estate agent and I went to see a condo. I fretted for days if we should make an offer on the condo. Entering the condo, I felt a positive vibe as I admired the open floor plan and big windows. It totally had feng shui going on. But, there was one glitch.

My Old Wise One was out of town. I can’t make an offer without Old Wise One. He is the yin to my yang.

I fretted over the condo and lost sleep.  Finally I said, “Lola, if you are going to fret it should be over something major like not having running water or money to fix your car.”

Ohhh . . . but this condo, it was close to perfection with its  brown and dark green granite tiles in the kitchen, view of the city, and its cherry  hardwood floors . . . except we needed to partition a section off the living room so we can make a tiny office. Then, I came to my senses.

Part 2 tomorrow










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Faith or Fear, Pick One, Part 1



I have learned that we make our own reality.
Will my day be focused on faith or fear?
“Pick one,” I say.

Finally my son Ralph called from N.Y. We had not talked
for about ten days.

In short phrases, he caught me up to date. “Mom, sorry I have not called. I consider you my best friend so I’m going to tell you that I was in Las Vegas for the weekend. Had to clear my head, my life is not what I want it to be. Went to Las Vegas, I gambled and smoked.”

Listening to this, my first response is Argghh . . . he will get lung cancer like my dad.

“I thought you quit smoking.” I say.
“I only smoked in Vegas. I’m back now and my head is clear. On Tuesday I have a job interview.”

Hmmm . . . I have never known anyone who clears their head by going to
Las Vegas to gamble and smoke. Guess Las Vegas can do that for some folks.
Good to know.

My heart beat seems to fall flat. I checked my pulse.
Okay, my heart is still going.

But, I feel the fear take over my body.
It goes straight to my brain and shakes up my brain cells. They scream is  he a gambler?
How will he pay his rent? Does he have money for food? Did he go to half a dozen strip clubs?
Is he into porn?

As a mom, I fear for my adult children and the choices
they make. But I have come far as a parent. I ‘m mindful of the fact that
fear is not going to help me get through the day.
It will only fester and block any kind of positive energy
or grateful thoughts I have.
Fear will paralyze me to the point of not
showing up where I’m suppose to be.
I will not be able to pay attention to what matters.

After this phone call with Ralph, I asked myself,
“OK, Lola, how do you want your reality to be? Will it be faith- or fear-driven?
I chose faith.

I drove to the chapel and lit a candle for my 24-year-old baby. Yes, Ralph is still my baby.
I asked God to bless him with clarity and wisdom to do the right thing. I left all my fears at the foot of the cross, and then I tended to all my endless errands while a mantra swirled in my head.

It went like this:
“Hail, Mary, full of grace, I release my son to you.”
This meditation comforts my heart. It gives me
strength not to fall apart. I feel better.

The next day, I received another phone call. It was my mother.

Part 2 Tomorrow

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Faith Or Fear, Pick One, Part 2


In her broken English, she tells me, “Lola, just lissen. OK.
Your brother is driving me crasee. He depress. He need money for car. He like to be
taxi driver, but need car. I give him cash.  I pray to God
to give me . . . you know, strong.”

“You mean strength?”

My 74-year-old mother lives with my
brother who doesn’t have all his ducks in a row.

“Do you know you always rescue him?” I say into the phone.

She doesn’t listen.

“I give.  I am tired of this. He only want to be taxi driver.”

I’m the one who takes care of my mom’s finances. We have
set aside emergency money
just in case she goes to a rehab center or requires a nurse.
But for my mom, when it comes to her grown children,
it’s always an emergency.

Fear rises in me again. I fear what we will do when my mother’s
emergency funds are all used up.

Taking a deep breath and releasing all my tension, I know what to do.
I know what my reality will be. Once again I choose faith.
My action is to close my eyes and recall my mantra.

“Holy Spirit, I don’t know what to do.
I release my mom and my brother to you.”

I say this as many times as I can to get hold
of my mind and body. And not react to
my mom’s call. This aligns who I am and what my part is in this
mess  with what can I control to  make a difference. I feel better.

Everyone has days and phone calls like mine.
What is your mantra?
What is your reality like? Is it with Faith or Fear?

Dear God,
Bind our fears.
Guide us to trust you
with all our hears and not
lean on our own understanding.