Maria

Maria is the lady who helps me keep my house clean. She's been helping me since I was pregnant with Emme. Maria is a wonderfully business minded woman and very successful, I'm sure. She is my age and certainly does much better at cleaning houses than I do at selling boutique clothing items.

She must know this because the other day she called me on the phone:
"Eh, Mees Monica?"
"Si Maria, que pasa?"

Translated conversation follows:

"Lately you've been paying me eight five dollars. You only need to pay seven five."

She annunciated it like this: ocho cinco and siete cinco - so we would be clear.

I usually pay her seventy five dollars a week, but I had been paying her eighty five dollars since the holidays. Kinda like a pay raise. Or at least so I was thinking.

"Please, you only need to pay me seven five. I want to be clear with you in case you forgot and started paying more by accident."

"Okay Maria." I say slightly embarrassed, but remembering that Bruce had complained that I had given her a raise. "I just paid more because it was the holidays."

"Gracias Mees Monica. And don't forget: It's SEVEN five, not eight five."

"Okay Maria. I won't forget."

God Bless Maria. He is saving a special place in heaven for her. I know it.