i'm back!

your sunday sillies ...

Hallelujah I am healed!

Well, mostly.  Enough to type anyway.  I'll try playing piano today.

Just bumping it on something brings great pain, but the swelling is down.

When we brought in Old Ghost Face to see Dr. Bob, because of the fight, he saw that I was wounded as well.

He gave me some anti-inflammatory pain meds and they REALLY helped!

Sad news is, The Thug has attacked Old Ghost Face once more, then attacked Pathetic Puppy.

I'm trying to get that damn dog obedience trained, but he's a wee bit thick in the head.

Or perhaps, with all his abuse he endured, he has a little bit of brain injury from being hit in the head too much.

He's very sweet most of the time, it's just he gets a little over excited with the 'play' and he reverts back to his old days of fighting.

He didn't attack long enough to take a chunk out of Pathetic Puppy, though.  Forget about grabbing his collar.  This time, I grabbed the fur at the back of his neck and lifted him off the ground.

I tried leaving The Thug out with Dominican Daddy, while he was The Guard for the night.

I felt too guilty to do that to this sensitive dog.  I had to bring him in.

Oh, why do we have a guard?

Papi has left me all alone for a few weeks.  He's gone back to Vancouver to see g'ma and tidy up some of our loose ends.

It's really creepy being here all alone sometimes.

Then other times, I'm so damn busy that I don't have time to fret.

I thought I would get a lot of sleep while Papi was gone, because he makes a lot of noise in the night while he's on his graveyard shift.

But I realized now that it's not really him making the noise that wakes me up.

It's those damn dogs.  They have a 3 a.m. pee clock.

However, when I get up at 3 a.m., some dog, or rather, shall I say dogS, as in plural, have already relieved themselves on the floor.

How nice it is to mop up piss and pick up shit in the middle of the night.

I'm sure Dominican Daddy gets a kick out of me coming out all bleary eyed, frog voiced, saying, begging, "Go pee."

Of course, why would they?  They don't need to.  They already did.  All over the fucking floor.

Puppies.  Big puppies.

It's a bit much for one person to handle all day every day.

I know Papi is busy with a lot of work in Vancouver.

I think we are both working very hard, except his life isn't being surrounded by masses of children ringing the doorbell to bring me more plants as a thank you for lessons.

Masses of children interrupting me as I edit or practise, asking if they can have their turn in the pool at the Hector-Brown Amusement Park.

Masses of children screaming my name as I quickly shut the doors, hide in the designated music area and unplug the doorbell.

The other day someone was ringing the doorbell that I had unplugged.

When that didn't work, he yelled my name for an hour.

When I saw him later, I told him that I can't hear him when I'm practising and that the doorbell is broken.

I think the doorbell will conveniently be broken every Sunday.

Maybe I'll put a sign on it.

'Go away!', but nicely.  Still.  Go away.

As much as it's hard to be alone without Papi here, even if it's just to stare at him while he sleeping off the Graveyard Coma, still, I want to be left alone.

Lord knows I don't have time for children while chasing around 5 hairy mongrels and trying to convince the 6th that she really, really needs to go out to pee some time.

Old Ghost Face is a bit afraid to go anywhere near The Thug now, and holds it in.

It's only been 2 days.  I want Papi back now.

He really needs to take over the puppy graveyard shift so I can sleep.

i embrace the peace and quiet of the night

up to my ears ...

Mango season.

It means you can't go 1 mile without seeing 2 mango stands.

It means you can't go 5 minutes without seeing someone eating one.

It means everywhere you go, you see people with mango on their faces, hands and clothes.

10 minutes ago, I was covered in mangoes.

I still have it all over my shirt, as I just finished making some mango juice.

I have eaten so many mangoes this week, that I'm pretty sure there will come a point that I'll get sick of them, however, that moment hasn't come yet.

Yesterday, I received bags of them from the people in the village.

I was signing up the kids to teach them choir and kept receiving more and more mangoes.

So many, that I would occasionally have to ask the kids to bring them to my house while I finished with the head count of how many kids to teach.

I started off with one of the sweet girls who gives me a gift almost every time I drive by.  She's 12.  She was my assistant.

She felt so proud of herself being my right arm.  I had her writing names and ages on a paper as she took on an authoritative stance, holding my paper and pen like a true pro.

She would hold my hand and ask me if I could go to the neighbouring village to visit her cousin who was just born this week.

As we went along, more children came to follow me through the village.

I'm not kidding when I tell you that I looked like the Pied Piper.

As I traversed the sand, rocks and roots, carefully stepping with my fragile balance, I had a parade of children following me, grabbing for my hand, grabbing for my clothes, gaining more and more little smiles to follow me after every house I visited.

It was interesting to see the dynamic of class in the village.

Some people have a shack made of tin or beach gathered wood, while others had concrete walls.  But everyone has a tin roof.  Some people had a fence so that nobody could see in their private space.

It made me giggle, because our house is considered the poorest of the rich gringos in houses along the beach.

We are the shack with a tin roof compared to the rest of the mansions surrounding us.

Anyway, I got a little nervous when every family signed up every child.

I think I'm in over my head.  I didn't realize there are so many children here.  Well, maybe I did, but you don't ever see them all at the same time.

I intended on only teaching ages 6-12, but as I went, more families were talking about their 3, 4 and 5 year olds.  Then as I got further, the teenagers begged me to do a class for them as well.

So here I am, with 3 classes every Saturday beginning on July 6th, with over 35 children in total.

I'll have to split them up into groups: 3-6, 7-11 and 12-16.

Oh boy.

Then I had families telling me they have children in the neighbouring villages who really have nothing and they begged me to start teaching them too.  There are 4 in total around us here.

I may have to start looking at some way to fund this in order to be able to teach 4 villages, each with 3 groups once a week.

As I went families gave me mangoes because they were grateful I'd be teaching their children.

I had mothers inviting me in for a visit and passing me their babies, children asking if they could come to the Hector-Brown Amusement Park today, and I had hugs along with the traditional Dominican kiss to the right cheek, even though they don't even know me.

Honestly, before signing children up I had a lot of mangoes.  People have dropped them off to me and glowed when they saw how happy I would get at a sack of mangoes here and a bag of mangoes there.

I love mangoes!

When we first moved here, I bought a mango tree in hopes that I may have mangoes this season.  I was so sad to see that it was just too young.

I thought I would have to buy them.

I don't think so.

And here I sit, with mango juice all over my shirt, and a freshly cleaned skin from mangoes that were smeared all over my face and hands.

Mango season.

Beautiful.

my success is contagious.  people like it, seek it and respect it

i might have to bring out pissy face

I'm quickly grabbing my breakfast before the day starts, now that I don't feel like death anymore.

I was granted 2 days to rest while feeling horrid.  That means that today should be hell.  Putting things off just means more work later.

The Carpenter already told me we have to go shopping after my breakfast.

Or rather, in his words, "After coffee!"

True.  It's mostly about the coffee.

Yesterday, I was sick and wasn't moving much, and the house looked empty despite the dogs running around like the lunatics they are.

Yet, there were children SCREAMING my name outside the gate.  When they didn't get a reaction, because I was lying like a lump in bed, they even tried Papi.

"Andréa!!!!" and a two second break between trying my name again, then, "Hector!!" ad infinitum.  Then there would be quiet for 30 minutes, only to hear it all over again for 20 more minutes.

We had to hide in our bedroom, shutters closed, so dark that when my mother skyped, she asked me if it was already night time.

No mom, we're just in our prison tower, hiding.  Just call me Rapunzel.  Not short of the hair hanging out the window.  That usually gives me away too.  So the shutters were definitely locked closed.

When the time comes that I teach them choir in July, I will teach it on Saturday and drill it into their heads that Sunday, we are to have no visitors.

I'm even going to get a HUGE sheet of material and cover up the wooden slats so they can't just try to be passive aggressive about it and stare at us until we respond.

I will train them yet.

The signs didn't work, but there will be signs on Sunday anyway.

Signs.

A sheet.

Verbal instruction.

If the children don't get it by then, well, I'll have to send in the reinforcement.

Papi will have to put on his cranky pants and be angry with them enough to keep them away.

We moved here for peace and tranquility to heal from so much that has happened in our lives.

There hasn't been any for the almost 5 months we've been here.

When it comes to this problem, we would have been better off in a miserable gated community with stuck up bastards who came to this country, not to be with it's people, but just to use it.

At this point, I'd even weather out being with those snotty people who have nothing better to do than tell me how may dogs I'm allowed to have.

However, if I can train the kids that Sunday is off limits, Papi and I might have a fighting chance.

We might feel like we get to have ONE day a week where the time is just for us.

We deserve one day for fucks sakes, don't we?!?!

Or will this trigger a whole bunch of uber political in Vancouver to call me racist again.  I don't give a shit anymore.

I love these kids, regardless of their class or their colour, so everyone sitting behind their books and computers in their privacy of cushy Vancouver can fuck off before you open your mouths.

You've already ostracized me enough that you couldn't possibly do any worse, so I'm done with all of you.

The point is, I also love my alone time.

It would be the same in Canada.

I like to be alone.

I'm giving them 6 days a week at the Hector-Brown Amusement Park.

Even the locals get one day a week off.

Why not the expats too?

Are we not deserving of that?

I think we are.

They have a month to get it and then Pissy Face comes out.

i take pleasure in my own solitude

ah, the luxury ...

My Eternal friend told me that when she taught in Guatemala, expats in their 1st year got extra days off with pay, because they were so sick all the time.

Their bodies weren't used to the environment.

No shit.

Well, actually, in my case?  Lots.

I am so sick again.  This makes the 3rd time.  Makes sense.  It seems every 6 weeks something gets me.

It started BEFORE yesterday's trip to that 'place of health', so I'm not worried that I got something there.

But damn.  Yesterday began the climax.

And now?

While I'm feeling so crappy?

... sorry about all the poop puns ...  can't help myself ...

Now is when Our Fave's Mom is taking us up on the babysitting by dropping the kid off at the gringo pool.

We babysat for about 3 hours yesterday.  Well, I should say, Papi did.

I ran around from the 'Andréa ...' questions all day, and entertaining the children at the Hector-Brown Amusement Park, in between running to the washroom and filling myself back up with lime water and salt.

I was feeling the illness, and wanted just to lie with Papi and Little Angel all day.

That li'l fella was so comfortable and slept the whole time.

Our Fave's Mom would come around once an hour to see how he was doing.

She was supposed to be relaxing, but most mothers can't be away from a newborn for very long.

She couldn't stop checking in.

But every time, I'd tell her he was sleeping and the shocked look on her face was priceless, because he doesn't sleep much for her.

We know why.

He is a cuddle bunny and just wants to be held.

She doesn't have much time with 2 other children, a home and animals to tend to, all without her husband because he is either working or sleeping off the Graveyard Coma.

So, yesterday, she came to the door, handed the baby to me without a word and walked away.

No words were needed to say, "Here.  You want him?  He's yours."

She used the time to catch up without having to deal with the little one who looks like he's 3 months, not 1 month.

Even the doctor was confused looking at him.  She couldn't believe he was only a month.  That kid eats.  A LOT.

The hard part is, they're in need of money, because the husband's boss can't pay them due to being robbed by Mr. Extortion.

She asked if we could buy formula, diapers and wipes.  We had said yes, but when we went to the bank, we realized, we only have $50 to last us for 20 days.

$50, and workers to pay.

All we could get the little guy was formula.  At least he won't be hungry.

It will be fun to babysit him this afternoon with no diapers.  But I suppose, like other children in the village, we'll just have to let him get the dung out on a towel and wash him up when shit happens.

Maybe I'll get Papi to tend to the workers and Little Angel and I will just make cow pies all day.

At least I can control mine.

Oh.  Speaking of fertilized underwear.

We have a functioning washing machine!!!!  I did laundry yesterday!!!!

Probably doesn't sound exciting to you, but to me?

Made my day.

I've never done laundry and been so happy about it before.

It wasn't a chore.

It was luxury.

Looks like I'll be doing a lot of towels over the next 24 hours.

i prosper wherever i turn and i know that i deserve prosperity of all kinds

the place of 'health'

There's not too much that can entice me out of bed these days.

The Carpenter has a key now, so I allow my body to sleep until it needs.

Right now, for some reason, it needs a lot.  Nighttime.  Daytime.  So much.  I just want to sleep.

However, today, Little Angel needed to see a doctor.

There was a problem with his eye and Our Fave's Mom was very worried, as any mother becomes when something doesn't look right.

His eye had some redness.  Maybe an infection?

There are free medical clinics for those who have the proper Dominican Republic identification.  No Haitians allowed, never mind Canadians.

Upon entering, I realized, it's not the best place for someone who has a low immune system to be, but I waited with them for 2 hours for their turn.

Mama fussed about the Little Angel while I kept his WeeHeart sister filled with love and attention.

She hugged me non-stop, then held my hand, walking me over to where her imagination said, "I'm jumping off a HUGE cliff!!!  Look at me!!"

She climbs up my body like a creature with suction hands and feet akin to Spiderman.

Then she tells me I smell.

Yup.  You got that right.

I got outta bed for your brother, our Godson, and didn't shower.  So nope.  I don't smell too nice.

But it's funny for a kid when I lift my arm to expose my armpit, waving toward her a waft of the Andréa Special.

Well, SHE thought it was funny.

Not sure how funny the adults who were staring thought it was.  Poor child, having to sit with such a dirty, stinky gringa.

Signs hung that explained how to keep from getting Cholera and how much bleach to use in the drinking water.

Drinking water.  This is not Canada.

A sign explaining that if you have a cough for more than 15 days, you may have TB.

All the while I looked at people coughing, sneezing, children with more than their share of mucus being expunged from their bodies.

Not a good place for a weak immune system, but a hell-uv-a good place to have love.

WeeHeart was enthralled that she had my utmost attention, where in the village, it seems she only gets a moment of my time before another child gets a ride on the jalopy that is the Hector-Brown Amusement Park.

There was more entertainment for our ride home, when we were stopped by the police, again.

It seems to be a daily occurrence for me now.

Papi was reading that our car is a target.

Crappy cars have no money.  No point pulling them over.

Expensive cars have connections.  No point pulling them over.

But mid-cars?  Like a Toyota Corolla?

Always.  We're the ones they target for extortion.

Immediately, when she saw Mr. Extortion wave us down, mama threw the baby in the back seat to lie on his own.

And I mean TOSS.

They would have taken a lot money from me if he was in the front, safely on his mother's lap.  It's a huge ticket.

She saved me, by putting the baby in an unsafe place to lie where he could roll off into something not so nice, like one of Papi's empty pop cans.

Good thing she was fast acting, because I didn't have peso to pinch.

Then she told me her husband's boss (also a gringo) was recently extorted and now has no money to pay the Little Angel's dad, that they need money for formula because her breasts no longer give milk.

At the moment I was saying we didn't have anything, because we used everything that came in for The Carpenter and Mr. Lumpy, the gas gauge went to empty and the dreaded gas light came on.

No matter.  We were close enough to coast if we needed to.

We'd probably just get someone to push us to our street where I could run and get more credit out of our barely coping credit cards.

And then I wonder, "Why am I so tired all the time?"

Because every day is an adventure.

i rejoice in the love i encounter every day

donkey. you dog me.

Oh, The Donkey.

So many antics from one canine being.

She's healing up fine from both being spayed, and her little abnormal thumbs being removed, but it was time for a check up anyway.

The vet had told us he'd never seen anything like her before.

That she was a drama queen after her surgery and wouldn't move.

Well, you should have seen the drama in returning for a check up.

There she was, enjoying herself on our drive to Sosúa to see Dr. Bob.

Head hanging out the window, sometimes, trying desperately to get her head out MY window, which was troublesome, as I was the one driving.

I drive illegally now without any care in the world, but that still doesn't mean I want to go killing anyone on the road because The Donkey has chosen MY window to drool out of.

However, when we turned onto the rocky road that leads to the vet, all sense of 'fun' went out the window.

Quite literally.

Suddenly, she whimpered, both paws were out the back seat window, followed by her mammoth body.

I then saw her roll a few times on the ground and I wasn't sure if maybe, perhaps, I'd driven over her legs!

Good thing we were at the right place for broken legs if the problem arose!

I stopped the car in drive with the emergency brake on, not really realizing it, and jumped out to chase her as she was galloping back home.

On the main street.

Where we see at least one dead dog a day now.

Or cat.

Or horse.

But there she was, "Goin' home!  Nope!  You can't make me go back there!"

Fortunately for me, she loves me enough that when I call, she can't resist the cuddles and she came back, I snapped that leash on and in we went to Dr. Bob.

When I told him of her buffoonery and that he should check her body out for troubles, his reaction was not what I expected, "I'm so offended!  Why wouldn't you want to see me?" he asked her.

I almost asked him if he was from the west coast of Canada and upper U.S., where people seem to be personally offended at the change in weather, never mind someone speaking openly and honestly about their feelings.

Oh, don't get me off track on that one.  I'll be here all day bitching.

Back to The Donkey.

Last night, I brought in some small stairs for Sir Bark-A-Lot and Jake-a-Like, so that they could get up to the bed with ease.

Actually, they made it easier for ME to get into the bed too.

Turns out, they also made it easier for The Donkey at 5 a.m., when she decided to go against the rule and hop on top as well.

Both Papi and I looked at what was happening, then merely shrugged our shoulders and went back to sleep.

Well, TRIED to go back to sleep.

Have you ever tried sleeping with a donkey in the bed?

Then I was supposed to drive Our Fave's Mom and the Little Angel to the doctor at 8 a.m.

Needless to say, I am quite tired and am going back to sleep, even though I've driven people around after having had my coffee.

This time, The Donkey is on the floor.

With the other cretins who are too big for the bed.

I've informed all the children in the neighbourhood that I will not be around, because I'm going to be sleeping.

Still, it probably won't stop them from yelling at my gate.

It's yet ANOTHER day of fiesta in this country, where we can't keep up with all the 'days off' everyone gets.

No school for the kids and they'll be coming the the Hector-Brown Amusement Park for sure.

My earplugs are firmly placed in both ears.

life is a joy filled with delightful surprises