A.W.O.L.

So, I've been off the blog for a few days.

I've been kinda 'troubled'.

I don't want to whine about the torn ligament in my ankle, because I've heard other people whine about being on crutches with a cast and thought, "Good thing you've never rolled off the hood of a car, flying through the air 15 feet, then landing on your head."

But now, I realize, that this is fucking brutal and feel for anyone who has to deal with it, as well.

At least after the motorcycle accident, I felt I was more able to try walking, and with the proper pain medication, I was able to push through the pain.

Now?  My other foot?  The one I've been hopping on for almost 3 weeks?

Well, it's royally fucked to the point that I can't walk on it, and they don't have proper pain meds here.

Not to mention, I can't even use the medicinal marijuana, because this month they're testing our blood again for our residency in the Dominican Republic.

I'm truly losing it now.

I have Breaking Bad to thank for keeping me company.

But seriously.

Instead of whining about lying around on my blob ass, that seems to be oozing and extending a mile a minute like a pancake spreading on a grill, I'll talk about Our Fave's Mom and her husband.

They keep asking for money, but doing it in a really sneaky way.

They told us that the husband's boss wasn't paying them and that they needed diapers and food.

We knew they were fishing for money, but didn't have any to give them anyway.

Then other day, we were out and saw the boss.

He told us it was a flat out lie and that he was considering firing the man because of other things he's been doing that are not tolerable.

Like stealing from him.

Then they told us they needed money to get the mom back to Gaspar Hernández, when all the while, she was still here.

I'm sorry, but I just can't be in friendships, or any other kind of relationship for that matter, with a liar.

I know they're desperate.

I understand how hard it is here, but we're not doing so great financially, either.  I guess we won't be seeing Little Angel anymore.

We didn't come here for dodging thieves and liars.

Neither did we come here for lying around in a fucking bed with feet up on pillows.

One thing I've learned, is wine is great to stop the whining.

It's kept me company while I lie around watching time pass by in my recent existence of 'my life is watching Netflix' a little more bearable.

So, no, I haven't been blogging for a few days, because I have fuck all to talk about, other than complaining about lying in bed and not being able to walk.

For that matter, I haven't been filming either.

Your Sunday Sillies YouTube show won't be happening this week.

It would be boring to watch me lie with my fucking legs up (and not in a sexy way), all day.

One foot with a torn ligament and the other with some weird ass fucking pain from using it too much.

Yeah.

Not very thrilling.

I haven't taught in days, because I can't walk and I miss the kids.

I didn't teach The Garage Band today either.

I'm just gonna lie here and fucking swear and whine a little more.

And for entertainment tonight?

Drink more wine to stop the whining.

i like long walks

more than i knew ...

The Garage Band students are beginning to all line up with plants now.

I don't have enough room for them!

Now I'm making up places for plants that weren't intended for it.

But you see, word got out that some of the boys swam with me in the pool after they gave me plants.

I wasn't in a hurry to go anywhere, so I had the time for some play.

5 boys in the pool whoopin' and hollerin', doing back flips off the ledge and enjoying the swimming antics of The Donkey joining them.

But later when more children came, I didn't have the luxury of watching them.

These were little ones.

I definitely couldn't take my eyes off them in the water.

The cable guy was here, and being in my house, I definitely couldn't take my eyes of him either!

I assured them that another day I would have a little more time to watch them in the pool.

Tomorrow, we sing.

I'm quite lucky to have these teen boys who sing in the choir.

You see, last night at 9 p.m., the doorbell rang, and I was a little more than afraid.

Nobody rings the doorbell here at 9 p.m.

I thought maybe it was the predator, having finally tracked me down, coming for his revenge.

I don't think I'm that far off.

He calls me non-stop.

He scares me.

And it's not hard to fathom that he'd be able to find the 2 tattooed gringos near Gaspar Hérnandez.

I was grateful to have all the hounds follow my lead and swarm the door.

However, it wasn't the predator.

It was the teen boys telling me my garage door was open.

I couldn't figure out how that could happen, until I realized, I had picked my keys up off the ground when I looked for them to open that door.

How would they end up on the ground?

Gee.  I wonder.

Maybe something to do with 4 legs and a lot of fuzz.  Perhaps with one eye?

Then I realized that after they pulled them to the ground, they must have stepped on the automatic door opener.

I was very grateful the boys came to tell me.

They're looking out for me.

I feel like I have a lot of protection.

I think that if the creep does find me, he'll have to make his way through the boys, Dominican Daddy, and the guards next door who keep looking over the wall to make sure they're not missing a skin show.

Dominican Daddy will be The Guard while Papi is visiting Vancouver.

He, and all the teen boys will be sure nothing happens to me.

I have more support than I ever knew I would.

Oh, and would you look at that.

Just like clockwork.

The creep is calling again.

I'd be careful, scumbag.

I have a lot of protection, and I'm not only talking about the angels.

i commit to listening to my intuition

someone pissed someone off

I have more gratitude today than most days.

Some of my readers bought me coffee.  Lots of coffee.

And we're not talking a gas station special, either.  I mean an organic, fair trade, extra large, triple shot soy latté, with extra whip and sprinkles on top.

Oh, AND a bag of beans to take home with me.

We now have enough coffee money to last us the 20 days we have to wait for more coffee money.  It's a good thing living here is inexpensive.

I know I sent personal thanks to everyone, but still, I want to say thank you again, because you have no idea how grateful I am.

Papi got upset with me, because he doesn't like when people ask for money, but I told him, "Look, I've been writing a blog a day, almost every day since 2010.  If I want to start asking for donations for the entertainment that is YOU & I, then so be it.  I'm not telling people to pay me to read my work.  I'm just saying if you like it, and feel so inclined, buy me a coffee."

Some people really like it.

Some people who can afford to, may want buy me a coffee to show it.

Others write nice comments or private emails expressing themselves with their own words, about my words.  Either way, I'm grateful.

Anyway, I shared my coffee money with Prince Papi so he could go buy his OJ.

Should've seen him prance off to the city our village is considered part of; Gaspar Hernández.  Now are you complaining about me earning a few donations from my daily writing Papi?

I was a little worried though.

The day we emptied our credit cards, I had tried to drive The Carpenter to get more supplies, only we were diverted when we saw a rather large gathering, police and TV cameras.

Upon reading more on the DR1 Forum, it looks like someone from Sosúa got murdered then dumped in Gaspar.  Normally, I equate Gaspar with Whalley in Surrey, but upon looking at the stats of crimes in Canada, it looks like I should be equating it to Prince George!!

Back to the recently departed.  He was not a local, he was an Italian expat.

I have the feeling he may have earned the beatings.  We were brave enough to look at the pictures after the fact.  This was definitely personal.

He wasn't in the drivers seat of his car when he was found, he was in the back, so it seems he was killed somewhere else and dropped in Gaspar.  You don't go pissing people off here.  It WILL cost you your life.

He was hanging out of his fancy SUV like one of the slack, dead geckos I find in the house periodically, only intensely bloodied.

I think with the extreme beating he took, they will have to use his car for identification.

There was also other woman recently, a French Canadian, who was treating her employee horribly.

Looks like he had enough and killed her too.

I'm happy to say that we treat our workers as best we can, not out of fear, but out of acknowledgement of their work.  We feed them when we have extra, I put my water machine outside so that they can have cold water while they work and we bend over backwards to make sure they know how much we appreciate all they do.

Even if it means I drag my lazy ass outside to fill up on my own water, I don't care, because they're happy.  It's so nice when they're happy.

Even the crankiest man has become my friend, and today, he made sure my ripe papaya was plucked before it died.

Most people will just put the jug of water out and let them fend for themselves, but I can't do it.  They deserve cold water.

Normally, when the money is flowing a little better, in the afternoon they get a treat; ice tea, juice, soda or beer.

So hopefully, we won't be getting beaten any time soon.

Especially now, because the village knows we're broke.  Word travels fast when people are broke, because there's no point asking for anything.

We have nothing to steal when we're out and about, short of some coffee money.

Anyway, showing you like my entertainment feels like a standing ovation, and that just feels grand.

It's good to know that when I give, sometimes, I receive.

The angels are working.

But I still need a job.

However, it will not be in Gaspar Hernández.

i pay my bills with love as i know abundance flows freely through me