waves crashing

The angels DO have a sense of humour.

I was at the hardware store, yet again, where I'm becoming part of the scenery, and I was waiting patiently for The Carpenter to get his wood, concrete, nails etc. that he needed.

I'm really only there to pay, as I'm just a walking wallet.

Anyway, I was waiting for him to return and was missing my HECTOR cohort, wishing we could play some music together now that my bitch of a back is being friendly.

The ticket to get here is quite expensive, so I can't just see my Drummer Boy just hopping on a plane to come make music.

Nor can I see him leaving behind The Turkey, my first godson, so I was just wishing that someway, somehow, I could have tons of cash to fly him here to the Dominican Republic to play some shows.

My Bluelight ex-buddy has enough cash to come here, and I miss her as well, but chances are that she's mad enough at me that she will NEVER forgive me enough to visit.  Chances are I could never trust her friendship again anyway.

But there I was wishing I had money.

I went into the hardware store to pay, and the first amazing thing happened, that worker that I said I'd win the heart of, gave me a hug, saying, "I like you.  You're my friend."  Accomplished!  Won his heart!  Bad Spanish and all!

Then within moments, the PanMan came in.

He's the one the angels sent me the other day, when I really needed to hear some words of wisdom.

I bought a bunch of snacks for for Papi, as he asked how we were doing.

We spoke a while about the ups and downs, how hard it is to live here.  He understood fully when I spoke about having lost our cat, and that Papi is really down.  Really depressed.

Mostly from grieving, but also because we're both stressed the fuck out about money.

He told me there would be an opportunity for Papi to work for him if he liked.  It would be in sales for the land he has, not to mention, the eco-tourism that he needs promotion for.

I explained that it would be a job for me, not for Papi, that Papi doesn't like sales, but I'm a natural born hustler.  I'll work hard, and try my best, even if I fail.

I told him I'd email him again and look at options for working with him.

I strolled back to the car with my bag of bread in hand, looking to the sky for my angels, saying, "You really are funny, you know that?"

So, maybe I need to ask them to help Papi a bit more.

He's really in a rough state, in his own Pit of Doom.

He knows everything he needs to do to get out of his depression, but he just can't do it.

Not to mention, I'm not able to persuade him to do those things, or he'll get upset telling me, "You think I don't know that?  You don't remember I worked in mental health and told people that every single day of life?"

Yeah.

I know you know that Papi.

I just want so badly for you to feel better.

Just like the PanMan said, "You have to ride the waves.  They go up, they come down, but you are never in one place.  If you're down, the law is you have to come up.  But when you're up, you also have to come down."

Couldn't have said it better myself.

Papi and I had gone to the beach yesterday, because it was the country's day off of work.  A day to celebrate workers and they got a day off with pay.

We went to the beach with the masses.

It was my first time to the Sosúa Beach.  As I floated, I looked to the sky and spoke to the angels, "Thank you for this opportunity to play in the waves.  Thank you for giving me a break today and letting me just float here.  Thank you for the ocean."

I have more to thank than for just the relaxing day we finally got to have.

I have to thank the waves for allowing me to ride them.

Come back up Papi!

Your wave has to come back up.

It's crashing a little.

i am passionate about doing what i need in order to increase my fortune

Gratitude List, Day 7/10
1. I am grateful the angels keep sending me words.
2. I am grateful I keep looking for the angels words.
3. I am grateful I worked to get myself out of my depression.
4. I am grateful for the ocean to help heal my back.
5. I am grateful for people genuinely liking me.
6. I am grateful for people who have been mean, so that I know what good people are to me.
7. I am grateful for friends who support me.
8. I am grateful to feel loved.
9. I am grateful for the small opportunity that may be to make an income.
10. I am grateful for Papi to ride these waves with.

it's all about learning.

I want to live as environmentally sound as possible, and one day we will have solar energy!  But for now, we do our best here.

I just don't know if I'm ever going to make that recycling plan I wanted to talk to government about, because the government here is just so corrupt.  I don't know that they'd ever listen to a city girl from Canada.

I also need to learn how to live off the land as much as possible.

I found a vendor who wants all my used glass containers.  I wash and save pasta sauce jars, etc., and give them to him to sell his wares!

Today, I am going to grind up my egg shells from my eggs I eat every morning.  I boiled and dried them overnight, and they are now baking.

I found a recipe online to make my own calcium from them.  This way, I can have calcium, not throw away my shells AND cut down on costs.

I also tried my hand at toasting my own fresh coffee beans I bought from our neighbouring city, which is scarier than taking a chance on a gay bash by holding your partner's hand in Whalley back home in Surrey.

I thought I needed a little practise on the coffee, but the way my body temperature has risen and I'm typing at the speed of a cockroach coming at me in the bathroom, I'd say that I did a good job!

I was taught how to do it on the first round, by the Housemaid, but she burnt them to a crisp.  I'm pretty sure she needs glasses.  No matter.  She has a Blackberry phone and fancy clothes instead.

Anyway, my coffee now tastes even more delicious with my cinnamon AND nutmeg.

Yeah, I started adding nutmeg from the advice of the local Dominican, Our Translator.

Am I boring you with coffee talk?

OK.

I'll talk about my garden.

I have so many things sprouting up, but being my first veggie garden, I can't tell what's a weed and what's food.

The weeds are even different here!  They actually look like little plants.

So, I'll have to wait until I actually see the real deal, then weed out the rest.

There will be many trials as I learn.  With my coffee, calcium and veggies and more I'm sure.

We just got taught how to actually sharpen our machete properly.

The Carpenter, who built our bed, our wall, our gargantuan fence and is now installing our roof, showed me.

We now have a machete so sharp, I'm afraid to use it!

Not to mention, the puppies are SO curious about it, I'm afraid they may lose a nose.

Oh, the coffee heat has worn off now, so excuse me while I go put a parka on.

Papi has his air conditioning going in the bedroom.  I'm fucking freezing in here.

Alas, we still don't have a functioning washing machine.  We need to find someone to buy it and we'll go buy one that isn't digital, according to Mr. Sincere.

He told us digital isn't going to work far, far out in the village here.  We need old fashion dials.  Another trial failed.

But we have trustworthy electricity again!

The problem was 45 minutes away, where their inverter died in the 4th biggest city here in the Dominican Republic.

I ALSO learned that I will be able to go play in the ocean starting at the end of May until September.  I was told the water is calmer and won't try to kill me, so I'll have some good ol' floating for my bitch of a back.

Learning.

So much.

Including the fact that the Housemaid took us YET again.

We need massive rocks, or shall I say gargantuan boulders, for the front of our property so we don't wash away, not to mention, we need it to support our wall that is built on sand.

The Housemaid told us we need to pay Mr. Extortion (aka: the 'marina'), but the Jersey Girl told me they're not the ones we pay.  It's the environmental agency.

So, she bamboozled us, yet again, stealing money that we had to borrow from our credit card.

Learning.

So much.

i trust myself to make the best and smartest decisions for me

Gratitude List, Day 6/10
1. I am grateful for electricity.
2. I am grateful for clean water.
3. I am grateful to learn every day.
4. I am grateful to feel loved.
5. I am grateful for friendship.
6. I am grateful for being brave and taking a chance, moving somewhere for my health.
7. I am grateful for the warmth to heal my injuries.
8. I am grateful for a roof that doesn't leak.
9. I am grateful for my teachers.
10. I am grateful to be feeling so much better emotionally.

all hail the boob!

Sunday Sillies.

I had SUCH a nice visit with my Jersey Girl neighbour.

Can't really say she's just a Jersey Girl, because she's lived all over the world.

She also had a half sibling that she didn't know about until adulthood, only she got to find her missing piece.

We both agreed that you never know if I will find my big brother.  Life has ways of surprising us when we least expect.

Like the surprise that she offered me yesterday.

You see, I have been heartbroken that I can't have my piano here.

I have to find a new home for it.

It's been my baby for so many years, but it needs a home and it can't be here in the Dominican Republic, or it will be ruined within mere months.

However, the Jersey Girl has a special room with special temperature that she keeps the door closed to keep all the ocean air out.

It's for her baby grand piano.

She can't play anymore, as age has inundated her with arthritis that people get tend to get as they get older.

She asked me to please come play it, because it needs to be played.

I understand this.

I need my piano to go to a home where it will be played as well.

But the fact that 3 doors down on the beach there is a piano just waiting for me to play it was amazing.

There are only 5 pianos on the island.

The chances that one of them is in my hood is incredible!!!

Looks like I'll be practising in no time.

When Papi goes back to Canada to visit G'ma in August, I'll have him bring a ton of my music.

He'll grumble about it.

But whatever.

My foot is down.

I have a piano to play.

I also have a baby to play with.

They joke a lot about just giving me our godson.

It's hard to tell if they're serious or not, because Our Fave's Mom seems so indifferent to the child.

I urged her to feed the Little Angel by breast, not formula.

I've learned from an advocate that this is what they do to women here.

They convince them that their cervix and canal are too small, and that they need a C-Section.

They convince them that their babies are better off with formula, because the child's stomach needs to have 'better' food.

It's horrible.

I tried to persuade her with the benefits of how a mother's milk will give the Little Angel all the antibodies he needs to build his immune, but with my lack of Spanish, all I could really say was how important it is to their health.

I also tried to put a positive twist on it, "And it's a free meal!  No money necessary!"

I told her that in Canada, they're on the boob right away.

Today, the Little Angel wouldn't take the bottle, but as soon as Our Fave's Mom gave him the boob, he started eating right away.

Intuitively, he knows what's best.

Chemicals or natural milk?

A child is all intuition.

I have much more information to give Our Fave's Mom about the benefits.  I'll start googling the words and make my sentences to help her understand.

I'll do my best.

She deserves to give the Little Angel health.

wonderful things unfold before me

Gratitude Day 5/10
1. I am grateful for fresh vegetables from local vendors.
2. I am grateful for the world's most comfortable bed to ease my back.
3. I am grateful for the opportunity to play a piano here on the island.
4. I am grateful our washing machine did another load, even though it's been a month since the last time it let me.
5. I am grateful for electricity.
6. I am grateful for the support of friends.
7. I am grateful to feel loved.
8. I am grateful 2/3 of our roof renos are almost done.
9. I am grateful for clean healthy water.
10. I am grateful to have hope in this world.

family.

What a day!

What a hospital.

Oh man.

You're there to heal and hold a fresh little baby that has just come into this world who needs all the help he can get with his fledgling immune system, and the bathrooms don't have toilet paper to wipe your ass, nor do they have soap to clean your hands while you're drip drying.

Seriously.

Then you're going to hold a little bundle of love who just breathed air for the first time.

Of course, I did it anyway, for as long as my bitch of a back would allow.

Which was just long enough to fall in love.

What a sweet little soul.

To Our Fave's Mom, it was nothing, as she's had 2 others before.

She giggled at our silliness with the little bean.

As did everyone else who thought us ridiculous.

The family has taken us in, and I believe I have found the DR Family we have been searching for.

Including the gangster brother who scares the hell out of me now that he knows where we live.

But at least, I won't be alone for those three months Papi was talking about.

He was indeed having a grief breakdown.

You know the one if you've had it.

You're not only grieving, you're experiencing every bad thing that ever happened to you in your life along with the pain of loss.

Well, Papi isn't going back to Canada to stay with G'ma for 3 months.

He was just having 'a moment' of weakness.

I won't be alone for all that time, but I would have done it to make Papi happy.

We do know that G'ma is in the best care she could have.

She is surrounded by other family and friends.

She is taken care of with her Alzheimer's better than we could do.

She is where SHE wants to be, near her church people who mean the world to her.

We have asked her to come with us, but she didn't want to.

So, there in Canada, with the BEST care, she stays.

Best care, with toilet paper, and soap to wash her hands.

Best care, with people who know how to care for her condition.

Good thing she's not here.

She would not have survived the heat first of all.

Second, she would have a fit about all the repairs she would have to live with.

Third, we wouldn't be able to have the dogs to protect us, because they would knock her down.

She wouldn't be able to handle Papi firing off a gun every night, just because he enjoys it.

You know that story?  The boy who cried wolf?

I fear that people will get too used to my dingbat husband firing off a gun and not come to help when they hear the real thing.

Well, at least the gangster brother will know we have it.

Today, we will have a full house, because all the repairs we needed yesterday couldn't be done, because we had to be there to bring the new life into this world.

Not to mention, I also have a visitor.

Another dog lover from down the beach.

Her New York accent is very thick, and I love it!  We're going to share coffee along with some papaya straight from my tree.

I don't know where we're going to sit, as there is no deck to sit on right now, but I have a visitor.

And workers.

So, I best go get that veggie garden watered before all hell breaks loose.

Day begins ..........

NOW!

i let go of all lies i tell myself

Gratitude List Day 4/10
1. I am grateful to be a godparent a 2nd time over.
2. I am grateful to be accepted into a family here in the Dominican Republic.
3. I am grateful to have experienced a brand new life yesterday.
4. I am grateful Papi is feeling so much better.
5. I am grateful I am feeling so much better.
6. I am grateful Papi heard Psycho Kitty tell him that he's happy and doing well.
7. I am grateful for papaya straight from my tree.
8. I am grateful to be making friends.
9. I am grateful for my angels supporting me.
10. I am grateful for friends back home, who help me through the hard times.  You know who you are.

baby!

No time to write today.

I get to go see our new godson the moment he comes out of the oven!!

But I will still do gratitude.

You doing yours?

i know how to manage my schedule

Gratitude List Day 3/10
1. I am grateful for the new little life I get to experience today.
2. I am grateful that when I went to sleep last night, I thought of what I'm grateful for.
3. I am grateful that when Papi fell off the ladder, his injuries weren't worse.
4. I am grateful for the heat to heal my physical pain.
5. I am grateful for this list to heal my emotional pain.
6. I am grateful for friends who support me.
7. I am grateful for our bed that makes my back so much better.
8. I am grateful our repairs are almost done, so that we 'may' be able to relax.
9. I am grateful the puppies didn't completely destroy my retainer when they got it.
10. I am grateful I am feeling so much better.

we all fall down ...

It was Papi's turn last night.

The pain of feeling he 'left G'ma behind' is taking it's toll.

Things like this usually happen when we grieve.

Grief tends to bring everything else boiling to the surface, granting us two options: 1) scrape the scum from atop, or 2) stir it back in and eat the filth once more.

I feel very grateful that I'm able to have a visit from the deceased Fuzzy Family member when they go.

It immediately releases my pain to see them so happy.

However, Papi doesn't have that luxury.

So he grieves.

True to any active addict/alcoholic, he needs to escape.

I have to make a choice; either live with him drinking alcohol and possibly killing himself, or live with him taking clonazepam and speaking with the junkie drawl.

I choose clonazepam.

At least he doesn't pass out into oblivion like when he's drinking.

Regardless, at this point in his life, he needs escape.

We decided that he would go home early to be with G'ma.

He was supposed to go for 10 days in August, but the need is too strong right now.

We're going to book his ticket as soon as we are able to so, I suppose in May.

I will be alone for a while.

A few months perhaps.

I have Our Fave's Mom and her security guard husband, the Housemaid, the Dominican Daddy and a couple of neighbours to watch over me, not to mention a handful of men whom I could call and they'd be here in a second to help.

They always tell me they would be here if anything happened.  Just call.

I have 2 guns, a machete and a bat.

I also have 2 dogs that would fight to the death to protect me.

3 more that would just run around barking.

Oh, who am I kidding.  Sir Bark-A-Lot would bite them.  I've seen him give a groomer a split lip worthy of stitches, because the dude wouldn't listen to us when we said, "Please muzzle him, he bites."

"Oh, no, that's ok," he laughed, looking at the small creature that couldn't possibly do any damage.

OK.

So, I have 3 that would fight.

I guess the Pathetic Puppy would get in there too.  She loves me.

And I suppose the Jake-a-Like would do his best.

Anyway, I'm going to be alone.

I'm going to have to ask people to take their holiday here.  Please come visit me if you can afford it?  Please come be my other human in the house.

I'll lend you a gun.

The big one.

I like the 9 mm.  She's the one I can handle and I'm not afraid to use her.

Papi might be gone for about 3 months.

He's worried about me.

I just want him to be ok.

I will do anything to have him well again, and if this helps ease his guilt, so be it.

I would do anything to see him the way he was before the motorcycle accident.

It changed both of us.

I guess I can't ask him to be the same person, just the same as I will never be that girl I was prior, but I can ask the angels to help him be well emotionally.

That's really all I want.

I would sacrifice all to have that for him.

All.

Including being alone in a dangerous country.

i stand firmly in my powerful, positive self-esteem

Gratitude List Day 2/10
1. I am grateful Papi is looking for a solution to relieve his guilt.
2. I am grateful I have people physically around me who would protect me.
3. I am grateful for the friends back home who support me, even when I fall.
4. I am grateful for Prozac.
5. I am grateful to wake to the world's best coffee every morning.
6. I am grateful to be feeling more like myself, and stronger.
7. I am grateful for the angels helping me when I need it.
8. I am grateful for the gift Our Fave's Mom gave us.  They have nothing, yet they gave us a gift to show their appreciation of us.
9. I am grateful to be living in a climate that eases my physical pain.
10. I am grateful I have things to be grateful for.

there's always an opportunity for a new beginning

He already came.

His spirit already appeared to show that he was well and loved us.

He still needs to do a little more cleaning, but give the guy a break!  He's only been able to clean himself for less than 2 days.

Point is, he already came, meowing in full force!!!!!

I went to the garden and placed my hands over his energy.

Then I plucked out all the damn weeds that were invading my happy soil for my veggies!!!!

Today, I will plant more.

Anyway, back to me.

I had a meltdown yesterday, in full force, scale 5, Hurricane Andréa.

It's difficult, because when Papi grieves, he needs to be alone.

When I grieve, I need to be held.

I don't get to have that option.  I have to be alone in my pain, because I don't have friends here I can just call up and say, "Can you come over and just let me lie on your shoulder while I cry?"

Instead, I hold the Jake-a-Like.

True to his doppelganger, The Galloping Gazelle, he is the world's best cuddler.

When I needed him to just let me hold him, he didn't move.  He allowed me to do what I needed.

I was grateful.

I realize that I've fallen.

My depression has left me without seeing anything of worth in my life.

I know this is a lie my mental illness whispers to me.

I know there is so much in life to be grateful for, but when you fall into the Pit of Doom, sometimes, it's really hard to get out.

My Friend of the Angels helped.  She sent energy, and the next day, I had someone who I had been searching for, find me.

I was at the hardware store, like I seem to be every day with one or more of the workers, and he appeared.

He could see the pain in my eyes.

He told me, that living in this country is all about learning, that I'll never stop learning while I'm here, and to be prepared for that work.

He also told me that I have to keep my heart open, even when the worst is happening.

I told him I understood, and that my philosophy has always been, that when you stop learning, you die.

This morning, I want to live.

I have plans in place today to start finding my strength again.

To try to dig myself out of the Pit of Doom.

To find paradise in my soul.

I stopped working on myself, when friends abandoned me back home, then I became so busy trying to care for all the workers who needed me.

I forgot about me.

I also forgot, that when you have a chemical imbalance, a mental illness, it never rests.

It's never really 'cured'.  It lies waiting.  Every once in a while, it tests the waters to see how much power it can pull from you.

If you have enough in place to fight it, it can't come in.

Let your guard down for a few days, and dammit, but you're fucked.

I'm fucked.

But I am beginning again today.

The visit from my sweet little departed soul to tell me he's happy will help me.

He's an angel now, and he will be my strength for my first steps today.

I'm doing 10 days of hard working gratitude.

I do my gratitude every night, but I need to step up my game.

All day long.

Writing it on the walls.

And here.

Will you join me with writing yours here?

It would really make me happy.

the more grateful i am, the more reasons i find to be grateful

GRATITUDE LIST, DAY 1/10
1. I am grateful for this blog to help me work through my emotions.
2. I am grateful for 'you' being here to support me, even when 'you' are anonymous.
3. I am grateful we now have a healthy bed to sleep in.
4. I am grateful for the hard work I did yesterday, washing laundry by hand.  I now have underwear.
5. I am grateful the heat heals my physical pain.
6. I am grateful I have friends who show me how much they love me.
7. I am grateful for friends who remind me, that if I ever left this planet, they'd be hurt.  I stay for their hearts sometimes.
8. I am grateful for people who stick with me, even when I'm at my worst.
9. I am grateful the angels brought me messages that all will be ok and that they are here.
10. I am grateful that the puppies make me laugh, to counter-balance when I want to kill them for destroying my underwear.

R.I.P.

When he took his last breath, it seemed that there was a sigh of relief for him.

He looked peaceful, his deformed jaw seeming less stately.

I touched his little paws with all the affection in the world to let him know I was still there, if his spirit was still in his casing.

The fact that he was no longer in pain was of great comfort to me.

Here, in the Dominican Republic, we don't have the luxury of the option of ashes, so as to place where we can see our deceased Fuzzy Family when we care to say a few words of hello what is left of physical energy.

Here, we must bury our animals.

"I have a graveyard in the back if you'd like," proposed Dr. Bob, "but I think you want him closer to you."

Yes.

We want our love to be near us.

As I asked him how much to pay him for his services, he replied, "No, I don't charge for this work.  To me, this is a gift."

We gave each other a hug, because we both know what that meant.  Truly a gift.

I wrapped his lifeless little body, still warm, in the blanket he passed away in and met Papi at the cement walkway at the entrance of the clinic.

He can't be there for the passing.

I need to be, because I need my little family members to have me as their last vision.

I need them to know that I'm with them while they traverse into that unknown place I secretly wish to visit every day.

I need them to read in my eyes that I love them and will never let them fade from my heart.

I need them to know that they don't need to be afraid, because they're going to a much better stead than what they have here on planet doom, even if it is without us.

They have friends waiting.

I also ask them to stay with me always, and that I will find them when it's my turn to be in that place of serenity.

I've never held a lifeless body before.

It felt so comfortable, that I didn't want to let go.

Please, just let me hold him like this forever.

I can't let go.

He was still warm.

He was still my friend while I had him in my arms, wrapped like a newborn.

I guess in a sense, he was a newborn to a new life.

Papi and I spoke of where to place his body so that he's relaxed and happy.

The coconut trees were much too far away from us.  Also, they're doing work on the roof, so the front of the house was out of the question.

I thought of the perfect place.

On the floor of my veggie garden.

I will see him every day.

He will be part of the life that grows around him.

He will support me as I stand and help my plants grow.

He will be the energy I feel in that space.

We placed him in and covered him with much love, only it still felt so harsh.

I'd never buried a loved one before.

Then, I cried some more.

And some more.

And today, my eyes are as swollen as they were in the beginning of my journey with 'you' here.

I thought I heard his voice last night.

He was always quite the talker.

Sleep my little love.

One fine day, we will be lucky enough to be with you in that place of peace, to become one of the angels I beg to every day for strength.

For now, we grieve.

all that i need will come to me at the right time and place in this life

Paradise is NOT a 'place'.

The party.

Unlike any baby shower you'll find in Canada.

Canada?  Ladies only for the most part.

Silly games to keep us entertained, refreshments with a few tame drinks.

Music on, really only for ambiance.

Baby shower in Dominican Republic?

Co-ed, rum being chugged before it's poured into the glass.

Music so loud, there's no point having a conversation.

I filmed people dancing instead.

Our Fave's Mom looked so damn beautiful.

I've never seen her look so good, because the poor thing is so damn pregnant, she doesn't have the energy to fancy herself up.

Damn she's beautiful with her hair down and those massive breasts spilling out of her Spanish style top.

I actually didn't recognize her at first!

I had a tour of their fruit trees, pigs and chickens.

We're talking at least 20 fuzzy, baby chicks too.

Holding them to give me so much love that I need right now.

They chirped in my ear, "I love you, it's really good to be alive!"

Yeah, you're not old enough to know how bad life really gets.

Oh, but you won't be saying that when it's YOUR turn to be in the pot of food they were cooking for the party last night.

I was also the tester of the food to see if it was good.

Good?!?!

Oh I can't even tell you the flavours they use here.

I was grateful to be the tester.

Papi kept disappearing.  Understandable.  His social anxiety is worse than mine.

He was supposed to be behind the camera to keep himself busy so he didn't feel uncomfortable, but people were shy in front of him.

He handed it back to me.

The 2nd time he disappeared, I went to the house to get the flash for the camera.

I saw it.

A pint of beer poured.

My heart stopped, my stomach erupted through my head and the tears were being held back with all my force.

I was supposed to go back and take pics of Our Fave's Mom opening her gifts.

No time to cry.

As soon as I was done however, I went home to find that Papi didn't drink the beer.

Not because he came to his senses, but because he was caught in the act.

His way of dealing is to relapse.

My way to deal with depression is to get so angry that my yelling actually scares away all the animals, for fear that they will be pulled into the eye of Hurricane Andréa.

Normally, they see me as all love.

I'm hurting and scared and feel so isolated, so when there were no friends to speak to by way of internet, well, I lost it.

Papi's grieving.

Today we put down Psycho Kitty.

Poor little critter has had enough.  I keep begging him to go to the angels on his own, but he's just too much of a fighter.

I've had enough of watching him suffer, not being able to even open his mouth enough to eat.

Papi's had enough of watching his little love slowly die before him.

Beyond the dying cat, there is so much exhaustion and trouble to deal with that we're at the point where we half heartedly spoke about the convenience of there being two guns for a double suicide.

This is not paradise.

Paradise is not a place.

Paradise is in your heart.

A beautiful view of the ocean does not cure a mental chemical imbalance.

i offer a sincere apology to those affected by my anger

1st world problems in a 3rd world country

Did'ja miss me?

Or were you relieved my cheeky ass was gone from cyberspace?

Well, love me or hate me, I'm baaaa-aaaack.

We had a NASTY 5 days with no power.

No power means no water.

But more importantly, no internet and no contact with family and my dwindling list of friends that is now down to about the 5 people who care to stay in touch that I am grateful for.

Truly, quality NOT quantity.  The rest of them, well, buh-bye.  My Trust List has almost been abolished.

Each day that passed I became more depressed, thinking that this was it.  We will never have clean dishes or clean bodies again.

My hair looks like a fire hazard.

I'm supposed to look all purrrrrty today for Our Fave's Mom's baby shower.

Oh well.

I can do some kinda up-do-ish thing and give it a wrap to hide the frazzled ends that are, by now, turning into dreadlocks.

There's really no time today to try to wash that bitch out.  I'll need a weed eater to get through the mats.

The cockroaches are having a fucking fiesta with all the dirty dishes.

I managed to get one load cleaned while they thought they had the power going.

Then it was gone again and the rest of the dishes sat as a jungle gym for bugs.

The street power isn't working.  Our generators are not working.  And as soon as dusk hits, this house is blacker than black.

Kinda terrifying actually.

5 days.

We have our lanterns we walk around with, in hopes that we'll see the dog lounging on the floor BEFORE we kick the poor li'l critter.

Our guns are secured in the back of our undies when the night comes.

We're not taking any chances.

The bathroom water still isn't at full bore, but at least I can have a wench's bath; wet sponge, and applied to areas that could offend the general public.

I have layers of dirt on my dirt.

When I clean one layer off, then towel dry, the towel shows me that there is yet another layer that is in need of attention as the dirt rolls into tiny little balls on my skin.

How the hell could I ever be this dirty?!?!?!

I have what looks like permanent stains of dirt on my stomach.

No matter how hard I scrub, it just turns my skin red.

No, the dirt doesn't leave.  I think I need a power washer for that bitch.

Well, I woke to power in the house this morning, and the thrill of all thrills that I was able to talk to 'you'.

I don't know how long this will last.

However, there is one thing that I'm grateful for.

A gas range.

You don't need power to cook.

We also have bottled water, so I was able to drink water while I made sure I took my Prozac, to be sure I didn't have a nervous breakdown.

I also chased it down with a happy little clonazepam pill.

That kept me from climbing the walls and possibly going down to the electricity company and opening fire.

It also had me sleep all the way through workers working, and the Housemaid cleaning all around me.

Here in the Dominican Republic, they have a T-Shirt.

I really need it for when I realize that we're not in Kansas anymore.

It reads, "Remember Where You Are."

It's really hard for an East Van Princess.

Prince Papi seems to be handling it just fine.

Oh, but don't you worry, he will have his time where I'll be picking him up off the floor from something that has him in fetal position.

We take turns.

i have lots of friends

no rest for the wicked

Perhaps there's a reason why my music studio is taking so long to get built back up.

Perhaps it's because I'd be pissed at how little time I have to actually play.

Yesterday, I was trying to write a blog about how I don't have enough time to do music, when I didn't have enough time to finish writing the blog.

I realized yesterday, that I work 6 days a week now.

I truly am making up for the 4 years I was off from my motorcycle accident.

I am working.  Make no mistake.  This is not the 'semi-retired' vision I had of moving here.

With the exception of Sunday, I am up with my alarm every morning to deal with workers.

On Sunday, I hide from everybody, locking all doors, in hopes that I get some alone time.

My day 'off' from village clique, gossip, and workers.

While everyone is getting drunk on 'g*d's day', I'm busy talking to the angels, thanking them for the quiet time to myself.

Puttering and cooking alone!

It sure would be nice if I could do some music, but I'm too busy catching up on everything on Sundays.

Everyone keeps saying, "It will end," but I'm not sure I believe them.

I have to say, that one day off is sure nice.

I am so happy when Sunday comes.

What I realized yesterday (as I ran around while every worker was calling my name, including once when I THOUGHT I had time to jump in the shower, only to be stopped mid bathroom entrance to come out in my towel to say give me 20 minutes please!!), was that I am ABLE to do all this.

It's a revelation I am amazed at every day!!!

I know that I feel better here, it's just that I didn't realize just HOW much better I would feel.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still the Limping Lesbian, but instead of limping about while all groggy on pain meds, I'm limping about with energy and the ability to do things.

It still hurts, but not enough for morphine.

Yesterday, the Dominican Daddy showed up for his gardening shift with a blood infused gauze on his knee, limping around the yard.

He had been in a motorcycle accident.

I was grateful that the only thing that was really horribly wrong was that he had a piece of his knee skin re-attached in a utilitarian way of shoddily sewn stitches.

Unlike the work done in Canadian hospitals, it was not sewn to look good when it heals, but simply to re-attach what could have been left behind at the scene.

Also, they don't wear helmets here, so he could have been dead, or worse, paraplegic or a brain damaged.

I had to tell him about 7 times that I wanted him not to work, but to go home with pay and heal.

He kept refusing, being the dedicated worker he is, "It's no problem," he would say time and again, but he was obviously in pain.

I almost felt I needed to wrestle the hose out of his hand!

Eventually he agreed, I finished off the rest of the garden watering, and later on we brought him the gift of his very own stash of pain meds.

That should keep him calm in a Pain Med Party for a few days so he just loafs around, forcing him to rest his body and heal.

I remember the pain med days as such.

I couldn't do much more than watch TV and become addicted to so many shows.

Now?  I have one show that I wait all week to watch, 'The Following'.  Oh, it's such a dismally good one.

It will keep me going on the off season of 'Dexter'.  I love me some gore and thrill.

Anyway, I have one show a week, and last night I didn't get to watch it, because the street power was off for 6 hours, and neither our inverters were working.

Papi and I had a nice romantic meal by lamp.

Good thing the gas range still works without electricity.

It made for a really hot sleep without circulating fans, if there was any.  I kept waking up in a pool of wet thinking I was drooling all over my pillow, but it was sweat.

However, the point is, I get so much done!!!

Except music.

i am doing work that i enjoy and find fulfilling

looking at the good

Sunday Sillies:

The good news is, I found the Sosua Synagogue!!!

The bad news is, they don't have a rabbi, so no services.  I've written back home to Rabbi Laura to ask if she ever found the person who could teach me from afar.

Any rabbis out there wanna live in paradise?

There are places you can move into that are ready made, no problems, and you don't need a gazillion dollars like we need to fix Casa Paraíso.

This house is a money pit.

When you live on the ocean, rust never sleeps.

Just as you think you've finished, there's always something more.

This morning, I happily opened a window to let in the cool breeze from the ocean, only to watch the bracket fall from it's wood to the floor.

Well, at least we got the clean water now.

I had the world's most beautiful shower last night.

It's not crystal clear and super clean like in Canada, but it no longer smells like I'm showering in farts.

Tomorrow, our roof gets started and within a week I won't be dodging monsoon showers in our bedroom.

Tuesday, our bed mattress gets here, which means Papi and I will sleep in the same bed, sprawled out and definitely starfished amongst various animals who are allowed to be there.

100%, The Donkey is not invited, even though she thinks she's one of the little dogs, and the littlest ones think they're as big as her.

Everyone is equal when they're a dog.

I wish they would treat cats in the same light.

I'm a little worried about Old Ghost Face, as she clamped her mouth down upon The Mrs. the other day.

The Mrs. hasn't come out of the closet since, unless the bedroom door is closed and she feels safe.

Old Ghost Face seems to be stalking The Bastard Prince as well, and I have to give her a stern talking to every time.

It's hard to do with an abused animal, because one simple, strong, "No!" and she cowers like we're going to beat her.

At least now she understands her name, so I can simply say it with that slow, man-like, authoritative voice and she walks slowly away from the cats.

I believe she's starting to understand that we're not going to lay a hand on her, unless it's to give her love.

I'm relieved that nobody seems to be bothering Psycho Kitty.

I suppose it's because they all know he's not a threat, because he's dying.

I was worried that because he was weak, the others would try to put him down the way they would in the wild.

So far, everyone just leaves him alone.

The drugs are working SO GOOD!!!

He is cuddling like crazy, as I try my best to hold my breath from the stench of a smell of a dying animal.

I am getting used to it, because I'm so grateful to have him act like he did before.

Up on the counters!!!

He's even ass up in the sink, looking for remainders of human food he can hunt and kill!!!

Something else I'm very excited about is next week's baby shower for our secret godson.

We're just going to keep our tryst a secret, so we don't have to deal with the Housemaid and the wrath of her clique vengeance.

I watch the Housemaid in our cameras, as she stalks our property, looking for us to talk to about the fact that we were speaking with Our Fave's Mom the other day.

It's horrible to feel like we have to hide from her, but I just don't want the work of defending my decision of having Our Fave's Mom as a friend.

I want to live without the village clique trying to tell me what to do to fit in.

Hmmm.

Sounds an awful lot like certain people back home.

People are people.

Everywhere.

Only this time, I get a new slate where I can only receive the good.

I've learned from the cliques back home.

Beware of those who travel in packs.

Unless they have 4 legs.

i choose to see the light i am to this world

plan 'b': follow your heart

I had to stop and remember that there are always 2 sides to every story.

I spoke to Our Fave's Mom with complete and utter honesty.

I told her that people have said her family could rob us, and that her son could as well and that I'm scared for our safety.

She knew who I meant by 'people' right away, saying her name out loud, and with my silence, I did not deny it.

On the flip side, I told her that all Papi and I have ever seen of Our Favourite, is that he likes to work, and that's the impression we get.

We do not get the impression that he's a thief.

I told her that from the day we met him, he has been Our Favourite, because he speaks to us like he is an old soul with wisdom.

I told her that I really want to be her friend, though so far, people don't want friendship, only money, so it has really hurt my heart and it's hard to trust.

She understood, telling me that she doesn't want to take.

She told me that in her family, the only people with drug and thievery problems is her one brother.

I asked her not to tell her family who we are, nor where we live.

She replied, "I won't.  I only speak to my parents, and nobody in the village speaks to me.  I keep to myself."

I know some people are threatened by those who don't follow the clique.

I know this to be my own experience and I told her so.

"I'm sorry people hurt your heart.  It can be the same from where I come from.  You need a friend.  I'd like to be your friend, because I need a friend too."

Then I started to think about the source which told me that she is not good in the first place.

This is the same person that I have trouble trusting, whom I have proof has stolen from us.

I've decided that I am going to follow my heart, not my head, and certainly not what a busy body says about another person.

Papi and I spoke about it, and our hearts say she is a sweet person, who has fallen prey to the clique of the village.

In every 'community', there are always the 'mean girls' who gossip and tell people lies about someone to get the others on their side, in a quest for power.

I've experienced these people.

Then there are those, like myself and Papi, who choose to judge a person on our own accord.

I don't listen to the queen bee very often, because I like to consider a person's worth on my own.

I know that others have stood by me when the Hen Peckers were in full force.

At the same time, I know others who have ostracized me, choosing to believe the lies, instead of asking me personally for my side.

My heart says she needs a friend, and oh how I can relate.

My heart says to try this out and if things don't work, I can always leave the friendship like I've done with other people who have broken my trust.

My heart says she is good.

I look in her eyes and I see love.

I have the feeling that she is drawn to me, because she doesn't follow the crowd, and that she sees that in me.

In her, I see a strong person.

Maybe she sees that in me?

In her, I see goodness.

Maybe she sees goodness that she can trust in me?

Yesterday, someone left an absolutely AWESOME folklore tale in my comments box.

Please stop by and read it.

We will find all kinds of people, whomever we choose to look for.

So do we choose to look for good?  Or do we choose to look for bad?

It's ok that my intuition doesn't work here.

My heart is good and I'm following it, because I like her.

It may be a mistake, or it could turn out to be a wonderful friendship with another member of The Pariah Club.

And oh, how I can relate.

i have every bit as much brightness to offer the world as the next person

my intuition is broken

Upon wakening, I was whisked out the door with workers, off to the hardware store to get supplies to start the roof, so I'm a little late on my blog today.

However, while visiting our local hardware store, I was happy that the man who is usually so frustrated with my lack of Spanish was nicer to me.

I suppose that means my efforts of communicating are paying off and I'm getting better.

A lot of people are telling me my Spanish is getting better.

I'm trying very hard and people are beginning to understand me, as I am starting to understand them.

Like for instance, this morning, when I said, "Oh no!!!!  My Mastercard is empty?!?!?!  Here, try my Visa."

Then they understood my pained face along with my words, "Oh, that one's empty too?  Do you take American Express?"

Thankfully they did, or our MORE than leaky roof repairs would not have started today.

Now that every one of our cards is maxed, the fun of survival REALLY begins

Oh boy.  I haven't had this much debt since I claimed bankruptcy as a starving artist.

To say I'm terrified is an understatement.

However, I have inexpensive, wonderfully fresh food and a beautiful view.

Oh, and doggy TV.

I get to watch them steal our shoes and prepare to devour them with their razor sharp teeth.  Then I get to watch them go into the garden and dig up the newly repaired grass and plants.  I even get to watch them as they are on the terrace roof, and they get to watch me freak out and yell at them to get off.

Like we need a dog with a broken leg.  Or two broken legs.  Or four, on two or three dogs.

Puppies are bad, but at this point, I'm grateful I don't have the space for goats.

Puppies are definitely not as bad as goats.

Now.  What to do with the family who asked us to be godparents.

I was a little worried about this, but relaxed after being told by the Housemaid that here, it's not about money and paying for their upbringing, it's just like in Canada.

The Housemaid has 37 godchildren.  If she can afford it, then we should be ok.

Gifts on birthdays and X-Mas, love and guidance for the wee one, and if the worst case scenario happened and parents die, then godparents step in.  Or blood relatives.

Anyway.

I've spoken to Our Fave's Mom and told her that we are not in a financial position to be paying for anything for their family, ie: food, school, etc., and that we are only prepared to be godparents if it's on the same terms as Canadians.

She agreed that it's not about money, and upon meeting her husband, my intuition told me they are good people.

But like I keep learning time and again, is my intuition is broken here.

It's hard to read people here and I don't understand why.

People are people, but those I think are ok, keep turning out to be not so.  I can't trust my intuition anymore.

We've been told by the Dominican Daddy that they are not good people and that Our Favourite will steal from us in a heartbeat.

We could have troubles with Our Fave's Mom's brothers, sisters and cousins, as they are thieves and drug addicts.

They also live RIGHT behind us, so they have easy access to our home.

What to do?

I'm a little worried, and need to tell Our Fave's Mom that it's for our best safety if she doesn't tell her family where we live, or who we are.

I'm used to the thieves and addicts in Canada.

I know how to deal with nasty folks back home and have managed to keep myself safe most of the time, but here?

It's like the Wild West and there are no police to call for help when you need it.

We have to rely upon ourselves and the people we trust, and hope that our trust isn't in vain.

Who to trust?

It's so hard to not feel safe.

And now what to do with Our Fave's Mom?

What to do?

i trust my inner light and intuition to guide me

more time

The angels really do have a sense of humour.

And cats really do have 9 lives.

I asked the angels to tell Psycho Kitty that he would be free from pain.

They obliged.

However, this didn't mean it was time for our little love to leave our arms.

I am sure grateful I wasn't specific about HOW I wanted him to be free from pain.

If I was clear-cut about what I was asking for, he wouldn't be with us today.

With tears streaming down my face, and Papi looking like he was trying to be invisible, we dragged our feet into the vet's office.

Remember how I was saying he still looks like Psycho Kitty from the eyes up?

Dr. Bob told us he has a few more days in him.

His eyes are bright.

He's eating.

Albeit, he IS on his way out.

So, now it's time for us to do hospice work.

He gave us enough medicine to get him through the weekend, buying us a little more time for goodbye.

What it was fixing us with, was an opportunity to allow him to leave with dignity.

The medicine is to make him comfortable, and ease the pain, but mostly to allow him to be himself and enjoy his last days how HE would like it.

It worked.

He slept on the bed ALL night!!!

This morning, he did his famous forehead bumps!!!

He was also being himself, trying to bite my glasses off my face.

This has always been his favourite pastime; trying to steal my glasses.

He used to do it with G'ma's hearing aid while she slept.

It was always fun to do the hearing aid search at 7 a.m. under beds and couches after that little bugger had played with it all night.

We even saw him try to clean himself.

To no avail, but he tried.

Last night, we cut off all the blood encrusted in his fur from his chest and neck, and feces that were stuck to his tail.

He looks absolutely ridiculous, but cleaner.

It must feel better than being so dirty.

Cats like to be clean.

Waking up to find our Psycho Kitty being himself was really quite beautiful.

The angels did answer my plea.

He is not suffering and we get to see our little friend off how he would want to go; loving us to his last day, instead of hiding under the bed whimpering.

My greatest wish has been that he would go when HE decides.

I just couldn't handle to see him suffering.

It was too much to bear.

Maybe, now he could just go in his sleep, peacefully.

Maybe I could be specific and ask the angels for this?

I'll tell you though, I'm sure grateful I get to see him acting the way he normally would, even if he is a bit smelly and there's blood and drool everywhere.

At least his spirit is here.

He is Psycho Kitty.

He has decided that he gets to live his last days as slow as he pleases, being true to Dominican Time.

We get to enjoy it.

my thoughts are my reality and i'm thinking of a bright new day

it's ok to cry today.

He whimpers.

His jaw is deformed, swollen with infection, leaving only a slit at the front in which his tongue can comfortably lie between his two teeth.

I looked in his eyes and told him that today, he will have no more pain, and we said goodbye.

His matted fur didn't seem right for his usually pristine coat.

There was no point in me cleaning him today.

No primping.

No prodding.

No suffering for his already tormented body.

I simply told him he would be free.

Last night, I dreamed his body was only bones, with not a muscle in sight.

Decayed.

He cried to me in pain.

I knew it was his spirit asking me to help him leave.

When I woke this morning to his whimpering, I invited him up on the bed for our last visit before people came to our door and the insanity of workers in my yard took all my attention.

He came willingly.

He knows it's time for a farewell.

He seemed peaceful in the knowledge that he will be eased soon.

I held my hand in such a way, that I could only see him from the nose up, as his eyes and ears still remain a part of the cat that I have known for these years of friendship.

I didn't want to look at the image he has become.

I looked at him as he was.

Psycho Kitty!  Terror of the neighbourhood!

Not one cat would pass our yard, because it was his territory alone.

When my cats moved into HIS house, he was indignant as he stalked them through windows, eyes wide, ready for the kill.

He marked every window and every door with his scent, in the form of a turd gift, meant for my cats to know that this was his house, and eventually, he would find them.

They would be his prey.

Now, he is timid toward all creatures, knowing his strength is limited to eating and walking to the litter box.

We haven't seen him drink water in days.

However, even in his dying days, he still eats voraciously.

Nothing could squelch his appetite.

He still purrs louder than the healthy cats.

That sound, coupled with his food intake is confusing, as it makes us think he must still be fighting.

In our hearts, we know he isn't.

I could see it in his eyes today that he's searching for peace.

I begged the angels to tell him he would be receiving it today.

Today, we lose him.

Today, the angels gain him.

He will visit all those who have risen to the angels and they will welcome him into their peaceful realm.

One day, one beautiful fortunate day, I too will visit this realm.

I will be a part of him, and all the others who have left a whole in my heart.

Each one that passes doesn't get easier, yet it doesn't get harder.

It is just painful in the same way it is when each of them leaves.

Grief.

One of the workers saw me cry today and I had to say it out loud, "Mi gato, se está muriendo," but I had practised the sentence, so he understood fully.

These men who work for us are really quite lovely.  They have good hearts.

So, it's ok to cry today.

I allow myself to feel these feelings.

i embrace the rhythm and the flowing of my own heart

Saying Goodbye to Psycho Kitty.

My poor love.

I'm so heartbroken for him.

Psycho Kitty is on his way out now.

We have fought for his health for well over a month now and he's just not getting any better.

He's getting worse.

He's so thin and so weak, he doesn't even fight with The Bastard Prince.  He lies with him like an ally on the bed, leaving the bastard confused as to whether he should attack, run, or just look at him sideways.

When I pick him up, it's almost as if I'm picking up an empty plastic bag.

He's lost a lot of his hair.  What is left barely has anything to help us brush him.

We have to help brush him.  He can't clean himself, because his mouth is in too much pain.

His infection smells horribly, which makes it hard for cuddles.  I try so hard to give him cuddles when he wants them, but I almost gag from the scent.  It feels bad, because I just want to give him as much love as I possibly can.

His infection has been swollen in his jaw now since the day it grew.  It has still been growing and we can see he is in pain.

It was really like tormenting him with every squirt of medicine we were told to spray in his mouth, as blood flew left and right.

He screamed, because it hurt.

He was trying to tell us.

However, we had to ignore his anguish, because we just wanted so badly for him to be well, so we did it anyway.

We must stop tormenting him to try to make him well.

He isn't well, and we can't make him well, because his time has come.

He isn't Psycho Kitty anymore.

He hasn't been Psycho Kitty since the infection hit him.

Papi hasn't moved from the bed since he got home with the bad news.

My heart is breaking for him.

I understand the grief.

I know it will hit me later, but right now I feel I need to take care of Papi's heart first.

It will hit me later, just the same as when we lost The Golden.

The pain I see in Psycho Kitty is too much to bear.

He's suffering and I can't handle to watch it anymore, not that we get to watch it much anyway, because he's always hiding under the bed to evade anybody's company.

It's time to allow him to be at peace, which means we have to hurt.

It hurts everyone so much when we say goodbye to our Fuzzy Family and best friends.

Every little soul that flies free to be at peace takes a piece of our heart with them.

Their souls reach tranquility, however, we do not.

We hurt.

There's nothing I can do to help Papi heal.  He has to heal himself.

The part that scares me is that he's already in a fragile place.

I feel so scared for him, and in turn, I feel so scared for how hard things may be around here.

You can't help someone heal from grief.

However, I still feel that I need to help.

At the very least, we can help Psycho Kitty.

We can allow him to be free from pain.

We fought.

He fought.

It's time for him to rest.

My heart is breaking on so many levels.

For Papi.

For Psycho Kitty.

For loss.

We could lay him to rest under the coconut tree, where he can be close to the geckos and butterflies he liked to chase the only two weeks he was happy here.

I'm so sorry, Psycho Kitty.

i can muster up a little more hope and courage from deep inside of me

well ...

We talked about it.

We're really not in a financial position to pay for a child.

Now I have to break the news to Our Fave's Mom.  This is going to feel bad.

Yet, not as bad as being tapped financially and having regrets and resentment later.

I didn't get a veggie garden and fruit trees SOLELY because I like them.

Lord knows I'm lazy and would rather just buy my food from the store.

I did this to prepare for our near future.

We need to live off our own land as much as possible to keep our costs down.

If we need to keep our costs down for us to be financially well in the future, then we certainly can't afford to support a little person.

Again, I'll give the children in the village my time.

I wanted to start the children's choir in April, but here we are at April and we're not settled yet.  There's still too much stress to start thinking about lesson planning et al.

We also found out there's another repair that really stung.

I haven't wanted to talk about it, because I wasn't ready to accept it, but our well started out clean for our healthy water, but has quickly turned dirty again.

Our 1st plumber we had was here to help us with the pool, because it had problems and when I told him about the new well and the water, he just looked at me and told me as sweetly as possible that we wasted our money.

The well doesn't work and was built for no reason.

We need a different system with a filter to have our clean water.

So, when I thought we were only in the hole a little bit for what we originally set out to spend, I realized the tear in our pocket just got a little deeper.

The well is going to be taken apart and beautiful plants will be put there, or maybe another fruit tree.

We just got the yard repaired from all the damage the pool workers did and now it's going to be dug up once more for more work.

Ugh.  It truly never ends.

I had such a nice skype chat with my Eternal Friend yesterday, and she told me that the 3 months it took her to adjust had nothing to do with all the repairs etc. we had to do with Casa Paraíso.

Hence, our 3 months is looking like maybe it will take us 5 or 6 months to settle in.

Jeeeeezus.

I sure hope there's an end in sight and we can just start living.

Then, maybe I'll have time to find true friends I desperately need here.

I have accepted the fact that my true friends are not going to be people that are here in the village.

There's nothing wrong with being loving and friendly toward everyone.  I genuinely have so much appreciation for everyone here.

However, we could never understand each others lives, never having lived in one another's shoes.

My shoes look awfully fancy to everyone here.

Yet, I look next door at Mr. Richy Rich and think his shoes are just a little shinier, so my judgement is no different than anyone else.

I guess I could never understand HIS life, either.

All I want is love.  It's really all I ask for.

I say the wrong things a lot.

I do the wrong things a lot.

People dislike me for it and I'm a proud member of The Pariah Club, because I know we're all on this world learning together, and I understand other people's mistakes, as long as they're a good person in their core.

None of my mistakes take away from the fact that my heart is always in the right place.  As long as I have guidance from people who still have love for me, I'm happy.

All I want is to be loved.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go dodge the raindrops that are teeming in our bedroom.

Oh, Mr. Carpenter, could we get this roof done pronto!?!?!

i see myself realistically and objectively

yin & yang

Well, the bubble is burst.

We had a sweet experience that turned into a bit of a fear.

Let's back up a moment here.

I have a friend who is like a Big Sister that I've always needed.

When I first started this blog, she was the first person to contact me to tell me she's here, that she noticed I was missing from Facebook.

She pops in and out when I need her.  It seems it's always when I need her the most, making the time between visits all worth the wait, because I know that at some point, at some time, she will be there to guide me.

She has no idea just how much I love her, from the day I met her over 15 years ago.

She graced my life again last night, to give me more advice, and a little talking to about how we look to the locals here.

Every word she said rang true with our experience here, as well as everything that we feared from the exciting news we were granted with.

Remember the friend I was hoping to have?

The mother of Our Favourite?

She really is a beautiful person.  I've been speaking with her periodically.

Well, yesterday, this oh so pregnant woman with her two kids (one being Our Favourite), came to the gate while Papi and I were desperately trying to put together Ikea furniture.

I tried so hard to understand what she was saying, but it seemed as though she was asking me if I wanted her unborn child.

I knew this couldn't be right, as family is so important here and not too many people would give up their child, no matter HOW little they have.

I invited her in to use Google Translate in hopes of figuring out what she was saying.

In a way, I was grateful for her to come in, so that she could see that even though we have a house and a pool, we only have items that are for necessity.  Not excess.

Not to mention, she got to see our security camera screen.  Maybe word will spread that we're watching the bandidos and they'll move on to a different house to invade.

Anyway, she asked if Papi and I would like to be the godparents of her unborn child.

I almost cried.

You couldn't imagine the honour it felt that someone would show me this trust.

I have My Godson back home, whom I miss so terribly, and the glory I felt in being asked to be The Turkey's godmother filled me up like nothing ever has.

However, after expressing how happy we were to feel this pride of Our Fave's Mom asking us for the newest greatness in our lives, my Big Sister, who is native to the Caribbean, told me it's much different than it is to be a godparent in Canada.

We will be expected to pay for this child's upbringing.

As if he were our own.

A crib, baby food, primary school, college, sponsoring him to Canada and much more, so it's not just the honour.  It's the care to the child.

As soon as Our Fave's Mom left us with our good feelings of being asked for such distinction, we both looked at each other and said, "Do you think she only asked us because all she wants is our money?"

Immediately, I felt the pang of distrust and was so sad that all I ever do is feel this about people now.

It hurts to feel that I'm no more than just money to people, even though I understand they're just trying to survive.

Even still, I feel that being asked this is cause for celebration as Papi and I have always wanted a child.

Maybe it's just what we need?

We don't have to do the hard work of changing any diapers, or staying up all night to feed the little critter.  We get the glory of just being this child's opportunity for a better life.

That still feels good.

Mi esposo and I will have to talk to them about the parameters of being this child's sponsored parents.

I do really like this woman, and I adore her child, even when he brings me a turtle for a pet that I really don't need.

We can't help everyone, but maybe we can help one child?

Maybe he's born to be a musician!  Maybe I get to help him finish what I couldn't after the motorcycle accident!

I am grateful to the point where I feel tears welling up.

this will turn into the life that i envisioned it to be

no turtle please.

So, I tried a new morning routine.

Papi was upset that I start my day with my coffee and blog, because it seems that I don't get enough done around the house.

He doesn't like that my blog takes precedence in the morning.  Today, instead, here's how my 'good morning' went.

~I begin with poop picking up,
~Yard watering,
~Taking care of the plumber who's checking out our water that still seems dirty,
~Trying yet AGAIN to get that fucking washing machine working,
~Feeding the animals at the same time as trying to deal with my local salad vendor who came to the door to bring luscious organic veggies,
~Trying to explain to the guy who wants to buy our machine and comes to the house EVERY DAY that I don't want to sell,
~Dealing with the Housemaid who also tried to tell the guy who wants to buy our machine that we don't want to sell,
~Taking a 20 minute snack break with Our Unadopted Child who cooked me crab for lunch to go along with the papaya I plucked from the tree,
~Dealing with the car mechanic who is desperately trying to get more work done on the car, even though we keep saying less, because we've run out of money,
~Then I tried to get Papi up. 

It didn't work, and I just finished showering.

I've been so busy, and there has been so much trouble with water issues in the house that I haven't showered in days.

Along with dirty clothes because the washer doesn't work, I felt like I was going to morph into the newly laid sod.

So.  I got in the shower and then checked online to see when the bank is open.

Earlier on, Papi had grumbled in his half sleep as I was running around, "Can you check online to see when the bank is open, because if it closes early we'll have to ride the motorcycle in."

I informed him that I haven't even gotten out of my pajamas or eaten breakfast yet, because I haven't stopped running since 8 a.m. and that would be a 'no'.

When I finally got out of the shower and online to check if it was open, I was too late.  Of course it's too late.  We're very close to it being g*d's day, so people have to start drinking.  It's only 1:00, and everything is closing.

People back home just don't seem to get why it's so hard to get anything done here.  Nobody really understands that other than cleaning non-stop because it's so damn dirty here, you get to choose ONE thing a day to do and that's it.

I chose to wash my hair and very dirty body, and now we don't get to go to the bank.

However, if Papi just had've gotten his ass out of bed, then he could have gone, but my love likes to stay up until 4 a.m. and can't get up in the afternoon any earlier than around 2 or 3 p.m.  Then he tries to catch up on everything I couldn't do by myself.

I have clean hair though.  And everyone who's conscious has been fed.

I just know that my usual morning routine would have been much nicer.  A nice positive way to start the day with a coffee and blog.

Today my coffee was being drank while I watered the plants.  Not a bad way to wake up, but now, instead of trying to write about yesterday, I can't remember what happened, because too much time has passed today and the day already feels like it's 10 p.m. because I've done so much.

All I can do is review my day today, because the stress level shot up with my first breath.

Sorry, Papi.  My morning routine will stay as is, because people would probably have liked to have known what happened yesterday instead of the mania I had to deal with today.

Anyway, now I'll just wait patiently for the carpenter to come to make our bed, as his decrepit car broke down somewhere en route and now he's stuck.

Then I'll wait a little more for the street power to come back on so I can do some laundry.  Then I'll clean my dishes with water that is dirty again.

Maybe, just maybe I'll find a moment to relax and have those eggs I didn't get to have this morning.

And maybe Papi will get out of bed and I'll have an adult who speaks English to talk to, rather than Our Favourite who came to my door asking if I'd like to buy a pet turtle today.

Our Favourite was doing everything in his power to convince us that we need a pet turtle he was holding out toward me proudly.

I did everything I could to convince him that the dogs would eat it, considering they already ate a baby crab that was minding it's own business today.

He proceeded to tell me that all I needed was a home for the turtle and it would be fine.

I tried my best to explain that we have no more money and are living off credit cards.

He's a child.  He doesn't get what 'no money' means!!!!  He couldn't understand that this goddam Casa Paraíso needs so many repairs that we're financially finished.

No turtle please.

i accept myself completely as i am

Mission in mind.

No coffee in the world is going to wake me up today.

Last night we had a little problem with the garage door, and Papi and I went to work to fix it.  It meant lifting way more weight than either of us should have.

Hence, I had to embark on a Pain Med Party.

I'm doing much better today, as the heat really relaxes my damaged muscles, and they don't go into full spasm.

However, now I'm groggy and not really into accomplishing much today.

Still, I don't have that choice.  There are a few different workers coming.  One to build our bed frame, another to work on our car and a third to come fix our damn washing machine we've had for 3 weeks but haven't been able to wash any clothes with.

Yesterday at the PriceSmart in Santiago, they weren't willing to make the customer happy when I had 4 items that were not working properly, because I didn't have a receipt.

I told them that I KNOW it's in the computer, because that's where they checked when our washing machine we had just bought wasn't working.

The guy went on and on about how much time it's taking to look through the computers and how I'm taking all his precious time that could be used for something else.

I told him, "It makes up for the fact that I'm still waiting for your technicians to come and fix our washing machine.  My clothes are all dirty and I'm being patient, so maybe you can be patient with me?"

Things got much nicer after that.  We got everything I asked for and apparently, they're coming this morning.

We'll see if they get to see the crankiest, groggiest, gringo femme they've seen in their lives.

My eyes are half slit and I look about 100 years old.

Anyway, yesterday, we had a really good day getting things we needed and I'm only one step away from being able to make music again.

I just need a keyboard to talk to the computer and make music.  I may have to order online.  Here, they don't have anything that works with midi that I can find.

Hell.  It took me all this time to find a monitor with the correct hookups for my computer.  Everything is old school and about 40 years behind.  But I found the monitor.

I also finally found the synagogue!!

But dammit if they didn't have services, nor did they even have a rabbi.

I emailed Rabbi Laura about the possibility of having someone give me my jew lessons from afar.  She said she had info and would send it.

Papi asks me why I need this, and honestly, I don't have a good answer for it, other than the pride I feel for knowing that my great grandparents escaped the holocaust and I feel the need to redeem my heritage for the sake of all the years it's gone without recognition, as my family kept our heritage a secret.

I suppose I'll have to work extra hard at it, being alone without much instruction.

We all know how I feel about the g*d issue, however, having learned that we really aren't supposed to say g*d's name, it pleases me.

Besides, I'm free to talk to my angels and my Great Grandmother as my spiritual guides.

Oh!  I met the woman who gave me the baby shower invite!!!

She's very shy and I couldn't tell if she was just too shy to talk to me, or didn't understand a word I was saying, but she really didn't say much at all, but she seemed sweet non-the-less.

All I could really do was tell her I would be there, smile the biggest smile of thank you and left, because the silence was way too awkward.

Papi said she's probably not used to gringos being nice and didn't know what to say.

No doubt.  Sometimes, white assholes treat the people awful here.  I want to smack them upside the head.

But I get similar treatment from people who don't like that my Spanish isn't good enough for them.

There's one guy in particular at the hardware store who does that thing people do when someone doesn't understand the language enough.

He yells the words really loud, aggressively and slowly at me, invading the space in my face.

All I do is laugh at him and tell him I'm practicing and will get better, then tell him that people here speak Spanish fast, but he's the fastest one out there, so it's hard for me.

He doesn't care.  He just can't stand helping me, yet he's the guy I always need to talk to.

I'll win his heart over.  You watch.

I now have a new mission.

i make powerful and enjoyable business relationships and many of my business contacts are now my friends

Water, water, everywhere

Water was coming dripping through various parts of Casa Paraíso.

Oh so pleasant.

We knew we needed a new roof, because we saw leaking when we first moved in, but it seems that the damage up there has accelerated.

I scrambled throughout the house to find any empty dog dish, bowl, and bucket I could find.

If I didn't have the drops under control with the 7 tubs I found, I would move on to the pots from the kitchen.

Last night, the trick was to find a place where I could write my gratitude list to My Gratitude Buddy, my MC Guru and the Sweet Ex on my laptop, without it being bombarded with rain.

Don't get me wrong.

I actually like the rain here.

It's warm and feels more like a fresh shower than in Vancouver, where it feels like an all out attack of personal space.

Not to mention, when it rains, I get happy for a few reasons.  First, the rain water pulls all the dirt to the bottom of the pool, making it much more clear and easier to get the dirt out.

Now, if only we could work that damn machine to clean out the dirt, we'd be in business.  Until then, I hover on top on floaty devices like a princess.

Anyway, back to the rain.

Second, I get happy because my trees are being fed.  They're new and need a lot of water.

So when I hear the rain teeming down in a full force monsoon, I am pleased.

It also means I don't have to do the watering.  I like watering, because I talk to my trees and tell them how much I love them.

Yet, I hate the sand fleas biting me and leaving me looking like I have smallpox or some other disease, confined to the knees down.

So, there we were dodging raindrops in our bedroom, when we decided to do a bit of budgeting.

Mostly because we now have to have a new roof.  That shit isn't cheap.

Do we go with the plastic tiles?  Or ceramic?  Ceramic would have a better resale value for the house that's for sure.

However, looking at our budgeting, we realized we've gone broke.

Good news is, we really have everything we need now.

All the necessities.

Papi set out with a certain amount of money put aside for getting started with and we've only gone over by a few grand.

... ahem ... the roof ...

After paying for the roof, the landscaping to fix what the pool people destroyed and the rocks out front to save use from the wrath of the waves, we need to live simple.

No problem!  Everything is fine!

Until I realized that my iMovie program stopped being my friend, and I still have to buy an editing program, plus I need a monitor and keyboard so that I can make music again.

Seriously.

We are a little stressed out for money.

No matter.

Once I get my garden up and going, between the veggies and the fruit trees, we won't starve.

The dogs are Dominican.

They're used to rice.

And hey, we haven't been able to wash our clothes for 2 weeks, because our washing machine we just bought doesn't work.  We're starting to look like street people and we're getting used to that too.

'Dirty' in Vancouver has NOTHING on the DR.  We get one wear out of clothes before they look like we've rolled around in the mud.

Especially with The Donkey jumping on us all the time.

However, being broke is not a problem when you have a beautiful view, doggy TV and a pool to de-stress in.

'Broke' is going to be ok.

For the first time ever in my life, 'broke' looks pretty swanky.

And the hammock swings.

my wealth is increasing more and more now