This week, we haven't been able to keep up our 'excursion to the beach' bargain.
It seems that when our friends back home in Vancouver have a lot of sun, we get all their rain.
I don't mind so much.
The rain here is warm.
Plus!
When it rains it means our lazy asses don't have to go water the garden.
That saying, 'When it rains it pours', is MORE than true here.
A lot of the time, Vancouver's bad weather is that horrible misty rain, which floats up and under people's umbrellas.
No point in an umbrella when it's that fine mist.
Here?
No such thing.
Never fine mist.
When it rains, it literally pours.
Everyone runs for cover.
Our Favourite was here yesterday, to find out what time we could drive Our Fave's Mom to her sister's house.
She has a best friend in her sister. Her sister will make her happy.
Even though we eventually went for that walk on the beach yesterday, I know that a best friend always makes us much more content.
We are her personal chauffeur, as we gather all her, our godson, and the kids' belongings and pack them into our little Carolla.
I always make Our Fave's Mom sit in front, even though every time she tries to sit in the back, because it's the rule in our car. Visitors in front.
Most folks have motorcycles, so as we drive along that narrow street of her family's village, people look in at her like she's something pretty fancy, and I feel like all she's missing is a tiara.
Anyway, it was raining and Our Favourite was here to find out when we'd be leaving. I asked him to go tell his mother that we'd be there in 10 minutes.
20 minutes if you count in that everything is Dominican Time. Even ex-pats get stuck in that time warp.
He told me he couldn't go tell her until it stopped raining.
I thought maybe my lack of Spanish was hearing the wrong thing, but nope.
He couldn't walk to his house because it was raining.
The kids here don't go to school when it rains and even shops shut down.
But it wasn't until his mother said that the rain hurts her and gives her a headache that I finally understood.
In Vancouver, the rain debilitated me, as every injury I had from the motorcycle accident was inflamed and I would lie writhing, unless I was whacked out on pain meds.
Here, the rain is warm, and to me it's lovely, but when you've lived here from birth, well, the rain is cold and it hurts.
It's pretty amazing how one woman's pain is another's joy.
It's so true to everything in life.
It's all relative.
Like my Big Sister reminded me, even though I see our house as the size of an average abode in Vancouver, here it is a mini mansion.
Everything is relative.
All I know is, here, I am grateful for the rain, and people look at me like I'm nuts as I walk around in a tank top and shorts, smiling, because I know once the sun comes back out, I'll be dry in 10 minutes.
I put my most admired, heaviest sweatshirt on Our Favourite, and off we went to drive around our royalty.
Indeed, I did my best to make her feel comforted yesterday.
Even if our lack of Spanish somehow had us buying her sister's chicken their feed for the month.
OK kids.
The buck-buck-BUCKAW stops here.
... did you get my chicken joke? ...
Time to put up some more boundaries.
And learn some more Spanish.
It seems that when our friends back home in Vancouver have a lot of sun, we get all their rain.
I don't mind so much.
The rain here is warm.
Plus!
When it rains it means our lazy asses don't have to go water the garden.
That saying, 'When it rains it pours', is MORE than true here.
A lot of the time, Vancouver's bad weather is that horrible misty rain, which floats up and under people's umbrellas.
No point in an umbrella when it's that fine mist.
Here?
No such thing.
Never fine mist.
When it rains, it literally pours.
Everyone runs for cover.
Our Favourite was here yesterday, to find out what time we could drive Our Fave's Mom to her sister's house.
She has a best friend in her sister. Her sister will make her happy.
Even though we eventually went for that walk on the beach yesterday, I know that a best friend always makes us much more content.
We are her personal chauffeur, as we gather all her, our godson, and the kids' belongings and pack them into our little Carolla.
I always make Our Fave's Mom sit in front, even though every time she tries to sit in the back, because it's the rule in our car. Visitors in front.
Most folks have motorcycles, so as we drive along that narrow street of her family's village, people look in at her like she's something pretty fancy, and I feel like all she's missing is a tiara.
Anyway, it was raining and Our Favourite was here to find out when we'd be leaving. I asked him to go tell his mother that we'd be there in 10 minutes.
20 minutes if you count in that everything is Dominican Time. Even ex-pats get stuck in that time warp.
He told me he couldn't go tell her until it stopped raining.
I thought maybe my lack of Spanish was hearing the wrong thing, but nope.
He couldn't walk to his house because it was raining.
The kids here don't go to school when it rains and even shops shut down.
But it wasn't until his mother said that the rain hurts her and gives her a headache that I finally understood.
In Vancouver, the rain debilitated me, as every injury I had from the motorcycle accident was inflamed and I would lie writhing, unless I was whacked out on pain meds.
Here, the rain is warm, and to me it's lovely, but when you've lived here from birth, well, the rain is cold and it hurts.
It's pretty amazing how one woman's pain is another's joy.
It's so true to everything in life.
It's all relative.
Like my Big Sister reminded me, even though I see our house as the size of an average abode in Vancouver, here it is a mini mansion.
Everything is relative.
All I know is, here, I am grateful for the rain, and people look at me like I'm nuts as I walk around in a tank top and shorts, smiling, because I know once the sun comes back out, I'll be dry in 10 minutes.
I put my most admired, heaviest sweatshirt on Our Favourite, and off we went to drive around our royalty.
Indeed, I did my best to make her feel comforted yesterday.
Even if our lack of Spanish somehow had us buying her sister's chicken their feed for the month.
OK kids.
The buck-buck-BUCKAW stops here.
... did you get my chicken joke? ...
Time to put up some more boundaries.
And learn some more Spanish.
i love my family and friends, even if they don't understand me completely
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