here we go!

There's a new round of kids coming in to Dream Project.

Tiny, pumped for the challenge, sweet kids.

They're going to audition for the music program this week.  It's so exciting for them, as much as it is for me.

I love teaching little ones from day one.  It's makes me tingle with happiness when I see their eyes light up after they realize they've played their first song.

It's akin to how I'm feeling about playing my first gig in Spanish this week.

It was kinda sprung on me, but Tuesday I get to showcase some of the songs I've been working so hard on.

It's a gastropub called, 'Voodoo Lounge'.  My kinda place.

It's got comfy couches where you can really sink into the cushions to listen to live music.  You just have to try to ignore the mosquitos who have built condos under the cushions just waiting for a ripe ass to bite.

MusicMan and I are going to play a few songs along with another teacher from the Bachata program at Dream Project.

However, the timing is a bit off.  I was going to put music on the back burner for a month, because we're quite busy prepping the house for sale.

Yes, we're selling Casa Paraíso, for so many reasons.

We love this house, but since the day we've moved in, it has been all about the house.

Repairs, workers, commotion.

We were looking to come here to rest from working so hard for 4 years after the motorcycle accident.  Instead, we've spent the entire year focusing on this house.

It's beautiful down here on the ocean, but to every good there is a balance of bad.

Rust.

It's killing everything, including this house, and we just can't afford the upkeep.

Plus, I'll tell you, I will be so relaxed when I'm not dodging the chorus of children screaming my name at the gate all day, every day.

I can't even enjoy my yard, because the children think that once I'm out there, I'm their property.

"Gringa!  Open the gate!"

"No, my friends, the gate is open on Saturdays."

Except today, when I found I woke in the middle of the night to feeling quite under the weather.  I haven't slept properly in days and it's not allowing for a healthy immune system.

So, I put a sign up saying, "No class today, I'm sick.  Sorry."

Which prompted every child to come to the gate screaming my name to try to get me to come out.

I tried to ignore them and went to find some more sleep, when I was awoken by The Carpenter who didn't tell me he wanted to work on Saturday as well.

I need peace.  I need sleep.

I also look forward to not having Housemaid.

I'm not into people in my house every day, and stopping by unannounced.  I'd rather clean on my own.

You see, it's kinda hot here and in order to exercise, I have to do it in the nude as clothes really get in the way when you're sweating so much.

So, I have to always be on the lookout for Housemaid letting herself in our house for whatever reason, whenever she chooses.

Unfortunately, it's not like back home, where people usually call before dropping by.  Most people here can't afford the phone call, so they just show up.

That whole Seinfeld thing where people just drop by and expect you to be decent and available?  I'm not into it.

I remember when I was younger, I wished people would just drop by, because then it meant I was loved.

Now?  If you love me, you'll understand that I require a lot of alone time.

Furthermore, I don't like being caught in the nude.

The constant wave of people in my house is not my kinda thing.

These are just two of the reasons for selling Casa Paraíso.

It's been lovely.

Alas, it's time to move away from the cows and closer to the city.

And now, let the house insanity begin!

i live in peace

New Years Eve in the DR!

So, I was invited to celebrate New Year's Eve with the village.

Instead of just staying right in the village as per usual, everyone was up at the street bar.  You know?  The one where I'm going to have my first piano gig?

There was much dancing and screaming and children running around.

Oh, not to mention the bar chihuahua barking.

It was also someone's birthday on this night.

I don't bring anything with me other than my camera for filming, so I couldn't buy the birthday boy a beer.

I went home to get some money to do so.  120RD pesos will get you the JUMBO beer.  That should do him good.

However, when I returned, I realized that somewhere on that dark, puddled, rocky path we walk to get to the street bar, I lost 100 of the 200 pesos I had brought.

Upon stating this, out loud, it seemed the entire bar emptied.  I suppose to go find my 100 pesos and get themselves their beer.

Finders keepers!

I wasn't about to do that night time trek through the paths of the village to look for the equivalent of $2.50.

I still don't know who the lucky person is who found it, but shortly thereafter, everyone decided to go to the Party At The Gas Station!!!

Sounds like a great place to have the New Years countdown, no?

I went home to get my purse and use the washroom, and dammit, I locked the padlock on the iron gate, but had left my keys inside!!!  For fucks sakes!!!

Let me tell you, that lock is STURDY. Nobody will get through it with difficulties, and it made me happy to know we're in such a secure house.

It took 3 people and 40 minutes to get the iron gate open.  They finally just had to break the iron that the lock was on, because that lock wasn't budging.

I fully recommend the Yale lock we have.  100%.

By the time they opened it, we had 20 minutes to get to the Party At The Gas Station!!!

All the cabs were full, so I did what I said I would NEVER do.

Take a moto.

There I was crammed between Housemaid and our driver.  Terrified.  I was thinking, "This may be the day that I die."  However, our driver wasn't a drinker, so I felt a little safer.

Honestly, we got to the Party At The Gas Station!!! with 5 minutes to spare and my Honky 'Fro looking like a street cat had nestled in it.

I didn't care.  I only wanted to film their countdown.  Problem is, they don't countdown.

One person yells it's time and the rest of the party erupts in a fiendish jumping, screaming, bottles clanging, motos tooting and engines revving.

By the time I realized what was going on, I had to turn my camera on as fast as possible!!!

I still caught the mayhem, because it went on for about 15 minutes.  I only wish you could have seen the initial wave of screams as it neared us at the far end of the bar!

But then!  All of a sudden the people we met there left to go to bar #3!

There I was following along like a lost puppy to the new one that has just opened up down the road.

It was time for some serious dancing.  And boy did the men there want to dance with the gringa.

I tried to tell one guy, that was a tad touchy-feely, that I was married, but the word 'married' (casada) and 'tired' (cansada) are very similar, so after he was groping I merely had told him I'm tired.

Good one.  Yeah.  That will do the trick.

Thankfully, I had Housemaid there to watch while they tried to lure me to the back of the club (I don't want to know the reasons), but Housemaid would pull me back to the front where it was safe.

It was my FIRST Bachata dance!  Bachata music is a native music to the Dominican Republic.  I learned the moves really fast and damn, if I do that once a week I'll have thighs like a tree trunk!!  Now I know how all the girls have such plump round butts here!!!

I was also pleased that my ankle could do it.  More than pleased if you want the truth.  I wanted to dance all night!

But now it was 3 in the morning, and everyone we knew left to go to bar #4 in Cabarete.

Not me.  It was time to go home in a cab with drunk locals, which was also party in itself.

I wish Papi were here for the entertainment.

Only 2 more sleeps!

my life is filled with joy

the gift

Papi is gone.

So is our electricity.

Tomorrow, I'll go see about buying a newer, used inverter.

I spend most of my day running to do things while I see the city power on.  "Quick!  Practise a set while you can!  Throw in a load of laundry!  See if Papi sent a message!"

Then in between, I try to find things to do without electricity: a little exercise, fold laundry, clean up dog poop, or just practise those Spanish lyrics over and over.

Today, the water gave out on me.

Back to flushing toilets with a bucket of water from the pool, not to mention a pool bath.

I'll be getting a super duper special 8 a.m. visit from our plumber tomorrow morning.

Maybe there will be electricity so I can get an extra couple of hours practise in.

I definitely need it.

This whole 'translating to Spanish' thing is consuming my days.

My obsession.

It's so lovely to sing all day, but when your memory leaves as MUCH to be desired as mine does, it's a little frustrating.

I feel like I'm forever going to be tied to a sheet of paper with words on it.

Anyway, while I was practising yesterday, I had a special visit.

No, not 20 children at my gate screaming my name in unison to be sure I heard it.

... you think i'm kidding ... don't you?? ... nope ...

It was Housemaid.

It never really occurred to me just how much it meant to people here that we played Santa.

But there she stood, with a bouquet of flowers in hand.

Beautifully wrapped in a pink mesh type paper infused with lines of sparkly gold, and a gold ribbon bow to tie it all in a grand package.

Never have flowers ever looked so beautiful.

2 bright sunflowers, with gads of purple daisies, surrounded by little yellow buds peeking in from the not so empty spaces.

Oh, and a card, which read, "On behalf of the children and families in the village, Blessings."

This bouquet would be a VERY nice gift for someone, when you go to their birthday or any other time people want to bring some love to you, but this one?

It took about 15 people to scrape together the money to buy this gift.

I am floored.

They were so grateful for what we did for them for X-Mas.

When I was worried about dipping further into the credit cards to do this, I didn't really know that it would be as appreciated as it was.

I cried a couple of tears from the pure love I felt.

Papi wasn't here to receive this love, but he felt it from afar.

He could really use love.

His trip hasn't turned out so well.

The family he was staying with didn't quite treat him with much respect.

Imagine being alone at the house of part of your 'family' for X-Mas because your 'family' said you weren't invited to be with them where they were having dinner?

Then get kicked out on X-Mas night with no warm clothes and nowhere to go because you told this 'family' how you feel?

Yeah.  Merry fucking X-Mas to you, too.

Anyway, Papi will get to come home to love.

And hopefully electricity.

One thing is for sure, by not having any electricity, this house is sure tidy.

I've also managed to slim down a little from the ankle fat, as well as strengthen my ankle so much that I can almost get up and down stairs without pain!

Anyway, I better upload this before the electricity goes again!!

i choose to consciously surround myself with positivity

silent day

i just realized i never shared episode 38 with you!  here's your sunday sillies a little late

After a few days of grieving heavily for the loss of our little baby-dog, Harley, my time got very busy to help me move on from the sadness and get shit done.

We had to prepare for the village.

It's been an intense week and I have had no time to tell you about everything.

We started off with playing Santa to the children in the village.

But first, we had to drive almost an hour to Puerto Plate to buy the toys.  It was a store Housemaid told us about where the toys are inexpensive and we can get a discount.

That was of course, after the boss finished his chicken.  No talking until his chicken was done.

On the day of giving, we walked out of our yard door to see the entire village of children jumping up and down, arms to the air with tight little fists pumping upon every bounce off the ground.

Of course, Papi and I had Housemaid to help us with wrangling the kids.  As we approached the excited horde of short people, she yelled, "You don't get your presents unless you are at your house!"

Immediately, they ran home to wait eagerly for our arrival.

Later that same day, we were going to give out rum to the adults.  The adults were very insistent about us giving them presents as well.

We also realized we couldn't just give to a few people, that we needed to give a lot more to the rest of the village.

Off we went, credit card in hand and bought a box full of bottles of rum.  Let me tell you, the kids were easy to get back to their houses to wait for their gifts, but the adults?  It was a very insane time.

Grabbing, yelling, frantically wanting their share and trying to get more than we had allotted for for everyone.

Next year, we will be giving out food and care packages instead.

That night, there was quite the party in the village, as we listened to sounds of gunshots.

Well, we thought they were gunshots.

It wasn't until being invited to the party last night that I realized what it was.

Housemaid and Dominican Daddy invited to me the Fiesta de Navidad.

My DR Family fed me a meal, in which they were so generous as to buy special Dominican chicken and rice.

I brought a huge salad, which we topped with the Dominican dressing.

I also brought the grapes, which are like a tradition for the dinner.

Oh, and a few bottles of red wine.

Another tradition is lots of apples.

People are lucky to be able to eat healthy, local, organic produce here, whereas in Canada, these foods are the more expensive of the choices.

Not here.  Instead, junk food is expensive.

Anyway, back to the 'gunshots' I heard.

They have what looks like a bazooka, that is filled with some kind of explosives and they put all kinds of chemicals in and "BOOM!!!" it goes, as I startled with every firing.

Last night, people danced and drank, ate apples and grapes, while sharing their beer with children.

Yes.

Children.

It seems normal to everyone here, but when I saw a father giving beer to his 8 month old baby, it really disturbed me.

What can I do though?  I'm not here to preach about anyone's culture and it seems this is what everyone does with their children.

The party then moved up to the street, where we found the village bar.  Lovely woman serving, who's house is below the establishment.

She invited me in to see her house and while she walked I spoke to her about playing and singing at her bar, reminding her that it would be for free.

It'll be my practise gig when I'm ready in a few months.

Anyway, that has been my week, and rest assured that it was all on video!

Today I settle in for a quiet day, while I wait eagerly to hear from Papi who is somewhere in Vancouver.

And it's a silent day in the village.

The dogs have had nothing to bark at.

i am grateful for the time shared with those who have left to be with angels

she's stealing my heart.

I'm having a hard time playing today.

Every song I play makes me cry.

Normally, playing is like prozac that seeps from the piano through my fingers and takes away emotional distress.

Not today.

Every word I sing, every melody I play is making me cry.

Pathetic Puppy is probably not going to make it.

She is in renal failure.  Her blood is at less than 7% in her body.

We've given her some stuff to piddle like crazy and try to flush her out, but honesty, renal failure can't be reversed.

She's so heartbreaking.

When Papi and I first saw her, she had a hole in her head and had just lost an eye.

She's had a lump grow in that eye after we healed the hole in her head.

Every medicine we give her to help with the ticks has her puking and she's definitely the runt.

She's only a year old, and the little woeful girl is more than likely on her way out.

I was alone when I spoke to Dr. Bob this morning.

I only had Dominican Daddy to talk to about my sad news, and when I told him, he looked like he might cry.

Later, Housemaid told us that he's grieving because she was his favourite dog.

I have to say, she was my favourite too.

You can't help but make her your favourite.

She's so pitiful.

I always go for the underdog.

My heart is very heavy and I can't stop holding her.

Normally, playing would take away the pain.

Not today.

It's pulling every tear out of me and making it hard to continue.

I'll try to play again tomorrow, I suppose.

Or perhaps I'll only work on some chord progressions.

That will keep me from listening to words in a song.

It's the words and melody that get me.

Every song had something that I could relate to this little girl.

She's going to be with the angels soon.

They're so lucky to have her.

We were so fortunate to be the people to have her in our life.

How lucky we have been!

She was only granted one year of life, and we got to spend it with her.

Still, I'm so sad.

I know the angels will allow her to visit us.  I know, but I'll never get to hold her skinny little muzzle with that underbite.

Her one soulful eye will never be able to sway me into letting her have my seat in the La-Z-Boy while I suffer on a wooden chair.

She will soon be only a memory.

Soon, she will be a spirit and I'm sure she'll be taken care of by all of those before who have left and taken a piece of our hearts with them.

I'll hold you until you go, little girl.

i embrace the rhythm and the flowing of my own heart

rust and white noise

Did'ja miss me?

We had intermittent power for 3 days, hence, I haven't showered for 3 days.

The pool is a slimy mess, but that was my makeshift bath yesterday.

I'm pretty sure me going in there and bathing is the majority of the dirt they're vacuuming out of the pool right now.

Plumber Friend is teaching Dominican Daddy how to clean the pool again.  He needed a refresher course.

Papi resisted having anyone else clean it, because he's as O.C.D. about his pool as I am about my dishes.

I would rather have my dishes pile to the ceiling, waiting for me to wash them, than have Housemaid clean them.

I can do without the chunks of food left on the plates when she 'cleans' them.  I'm pretty sure it's because Housemaid needs glasses.  That's just not something people can normally afford here.

But as for the pool, Papi has given in and allowed Dominican Daddy to have the lessons and be the cleaner.  Besides, Papi is honestly dying from heat.  He could barely move when we had the heat wave last month.

Not to mention, Dominican Daddy will need to know how to clean it when we move, because the next people won't know how to deal with it.

If they're anything like us, this will be their first home and they'll have this dream about living on the ocean, just like we did.

We don't ever want to live on the ocean again.

When we move, I'll have to buy all new instruments and computers.

Even my clothes are disintegrating from the air here.

Seriously!  My sarongs are falling to pieces.

When we first heard the ocean non-stop, it was pleasing.

However, there comes a point when you'd like to just have a word with mother nature and say, "Would you mind turning off the white noise?  It's kinda making me crazy.  Thanks."

It was so beautiful when I first heard it.

I remember opening my door that first day.  I thought the sound was wind pounding against the house in a 'welcome to the DR' storm, but it was just the waves I was hearing.

I enjoyed every morning doing yoga to the sound of the waves crashing.  Papi enjoyed lying in the pool at night listening to the ebb and flow of the ocean.

Here we are, 10 months later, and that sound has become similar to living on a busy street in the city.

You know how you hear continuous cars, honking, sirens, people talking really loud, and all you want is just to have quiet time?

Oh, you get quiet time in the middle of the night.  There is a silence from the drone of the city for a brief moment if you're up that late, or early depending on how you look at it.

But waves?  They never stop.  Ever.  White noise.

They've become white noise!

So, our stint on the ocean has become our temporary home.

In about 5 years, we'll probably move up into the mountains, where the rust won't find us on its daily regimen.

Not to mention, this house is old.

Living without electricity, leaving us with no shower for days on end is really frustrating this femme who is used to being pristine and fancy.

Now I'm stinky and dirty with holes in my clothes.

I lost it the 2nd night of no power and took my anger out on Papi.

There just comes a point where you want the niceties of a developed country.

I just wish the cold of Canada didn't hurt so much.  We would have never left if I could handle it.

Yesterday, when Plumber Friend got our power back on, I took the opportunity to play my piano for an hour without any back pain.  That's the whole reason for being here.  The ability to really live.

For Papi, it's the ability to really relax after so much hard work in his life.

It's fitting that the day we lost our power was our 1 year anniversary of buying this house, and beginning the journey of moving to this beautiful country full of lovely people.

I love it here.  I don't ever want to move back to the chill of Canada.

This is home.

Rust and white noise included.

i am led by my dreams

Bubble Girl

Hallelujah!  I can walk!

Well, if you can call it 'walk'.

I'm allowed to walk lightly with my crutches and my brace.

My sexy, oh so sexy brace, that I have to wear a stinky sweat sock underneath because this here 'Bubble Girl' is having an allergic reaction to the plastic on the brace.

Seriously.

There isn't much I'm not allergic to.

It's a bit frustrating.

And a bit ridiculous.

I am Bubble Girl.

It's amazing that I've lived this long.

I should be dead by now with all that my body rejects.

If you want to know if something is bad for you, let me try it out.

My body will tell you in a second.

Or a day.  Sometimes, there's a delay.

Anyway, as much as it hurts, I used my ankle a little more today.

Mostly to help out the workers who are busy with our temporary sea shield until we can afford the rocks.

Right now, the workers sound like they're fighting, but that's just men and their machismo ways.

Plus I can't understand all they're saying, so it just sounds like anger.

Speaking of which, Housemaid managed to patch everything up and work her manipulation with the marina, Mr. Extortion.

We're not paying anymore and our DR Family gets to keep their job.

Really, Papi and I figured out that they are indeed family.

Only family can get that upset with each other, then the next day go on about business like nothing happened.

It's sorta the way people are here.

People blow up and have a meltdown about something, then they're friends again the next day.

It really reminds me of heated Italian lovers in a tumultuous relationship.

But I know how Mr. Extortion was tipped off in the first place.

There's this old man who rides around on his motorcycle just being nosy about everything.

He's the one that called Mr. Extortion on us when we first moved here.

Goddammit if our contractor, The Carpenter, didn't hire him to help with the ocean's bandaid!

There he was, all smiles at me today.

I was thinking, "Mother fucker.  You goddamn bastard.  You're the one that gives us trouble all the time!"

I just about tore through the gate to give him a wallop, straight up the ass.

But we all know Bubble Girl on crutches with a sexy, filthy, grey, sweat sock brace can't move very fast.

So, I just cursed him under my breath.

I can't stand the fact that he's working for us and that I have to pay him.

But The Carpenter hired him, and we don't have to pay Mr. Extortion, so I guess I'll just let it be and continue to give him the evil eye when I see him.

Oh, but I will NOT forgive this bastard with nothing better to do than try to cause problems for us.

I HAVE forgiven Housemaid.

I'm hoping that after having to stoop so low as to apologize, that perhaps she'll stop the nonsense and no longer be our worst thief.

And now, Bubble Girl is going to go hand wash clothes, as our brand new washing machine has yet again crapped out on us.

Envy me here in 'paradise'?

i will conduct myself in such a way that i can be proud

wild wild west.

It's bloody crazy here.

The wild west you could say, or the chaotic caribbean.

So, we had a guy attack a tourist right down from our house on beach the other day.

It doesn't happen too often, and actually there are more predators in Canada than there are here.

But I can't imagine how scared that poor girl was.

She was renting a house 4 doors down for a vacation, went walking along the beach and a guy grabbed her, tearing her bikini top off.

Police and the good men of our village were out scouring the beach trying to find the piece of shit offender.

I hope they found him.

Unlike in Canada, where men get to repeat their offences after a small stint in jail, here, well I probably don't have to tell you what happens to scumbags here.

They actually get what's coming to them.

I am grateful for my tattoos.  Men here generally think I'm an insane biker chick because of them and they don't attack me, even if my tattoos are just flowers and birds.

But today?  We had more to deal with than just the creep in the hood.

This morning, we started our day with a royal fight with the Housemaid.

You see, a few months back, we were going to get massive rocks out front our house to keep our pool and wall from being washed to sea.

We couldn't afford the rocks right away, but the Housemaid told us we had to pay Mr. Extortion now, or the price would go up later.

We did.

I then asked for the papers for permission and the Housemaid said, "Oh, you don't need it.  When it's time to do the rocks, I'll just talk to them and tell them you're starting."

I asked for the papers to make sure this was all on the up and up, but she assured me I didn't need them.

Today, we were getting a bandaid put on our property.  A bunch of sacks of concrete to keep until we can afford the rocks.

Mr. Extortion, also known as 'The Marina', who are the biggest fucking thieves in the country, came and said we had to pay to put the protective bags there.

We said we already did.

They said, "No, that guy isn't here anymore and there's was a 3 month window you had to do it in."

Right.

So, they conveniently left that part out, OR they know how things work here and know that the Housemaid took that money and are covering for her.

We have no way of really knowing which it is, but today, there was Papi, red hot in the face and ready to forcibly remove her from the property, because we've had enough of the lies and stealing.

I've never seen him this mad.  I was almost laughing, because of my super power, giggling, when I get too uncomfortable.

We played good cop, bad cop unti I got her to admit that she took the money from the building of the wall and that she stole our paint and lied about it.

I knew the truth about these things all along, but today, I got her to apologize for them and admit them.  All I wanted was honesty.

I then told her, "You fix this.  We trusted you.  If this gets fixed, you can still have your job here.  If not, you'll have to go.  I told you when you started that we can only have honest people.  We need to be able to trust you.  You are in our house!"

Honestly, the main reason we hire people here for work is because the entire village is their family and we know how protection here works.

We need to have the security of having everyone in the village on our side.

So we hire them for work, and everyone takes care of us, because we are paying for their children to go to school.

But still, we pay.  And pay some more.  And get robbed.  And then pay some more.

I've never experienced such insanity in the cushy country of Canada.

Well, except from the politicians who like to steal from us.

Here?  It's everyone.  Politicians, friends, workers, and that rat bastard Mr. Extortion 'Marina'.

I understand how people become so fucking jaded here.

And people judge us for having a wall and guns?

I think it's time to build a sniper tower.

i am redefining what it means to trust

bitch, bitch, bitch

In Vancouver, I would get peeved about the people who complained about the heat.

We'd get 2 months of the year that were 'warm' and people would bitch about it.

That wasn't heat.  When everyone was complaining, I would finally feel good.  It was my only 2 months of the year to smile and people would whine.

So, here we are in the heat, healing my bitch of a back.

Apparently, September is the hottest month of the year here.

Apparently, this was the hottest September on record.

It's October 3rd, and when I opened the windows to let the fresh in this morning, all that came in was a waft of sweltering air, that seemed like I could touch.

THIS is hot.

I have never once in my life wished for a little bit of cool.

When that breeze kicks in from the ocean, blowing the sweat that's trickling down the small of my back, I feel like it's a moment of being Snoopy and Woodstock sitting atop the dog house.

Thick of the summer, they couldn't move because the heat was so heavy.  Then, along comes a breeze and in unison, "Ahhhh ... cool breeze," they would say, with their noses in the air to feel it's full potential.

For a moment, that breeze feels like it's going to dry off the sweat that has moistened all my clothing.

But no.  It's only a moment.

We have to sit on the couch or chair with a towel, because it's so piping we just sweat and stick to it.

Last night, it was so scalding, that my towel was drenched.

Our pool is a disaster, because we tried having Dominican Daddy be our pool cleaner, but he had troubles with the valves and damn near ruined our pump.

So, our pool is dirty, and there is no lying in the pool during this weather fit for the devil.

Instead, we opt for the shower.

As soon as I'm out of the shower, I towel dry one area, and move on to the next, but I'm instantly sweating in the last place I towelled.

Hot.

I have NEVER complained about feeling like I was in an oven.

Never once in my life.

And Papi?  He's perma-wet.  Poor Papi.  He's really suffering in this.  Having a conversation makes him sweat.

The 6-Pack Lie on their sides, tongue hanging out, breathing heavy trying to ward it off.

We went to one of our fave taco joints, Gordito's yesterday as a drive by on the way to do some shopping, and the owner said, "I moved here because I like the heat.  I've been here for 20 years.  I've never been this hot.  I'm hot."

Even the locals are complaining, and the news is telling people to stay out of the sun because of the high temperatures possibly hurting peoples' skin.

I've heard that it's similar in a lot of countries in the world, and that's scary.

I don't know what we're going to see in our lifetime with global warming, but it is a grave concern.

And meanwhile, people here burn their garbage, because nobody can afford to pay for pickup.

Fortunately, people reuse so much here.  I have never experienced such resourceful people.

I told the kids to bring homemade instruments to the class and Our Unadopted Child brought two plastic bottles with rocks in them, the holes adjoined by a stick.

Shake the stick and you have a big massive shaker.

Here, you don't need to buy a broom.  Just make it out of a stick and dried twigs.

So, I suppose, people here offset the problem of no government supported recycling in the country by reducing and reusing.

I've started collecting glass jars from the neighbours for the locals to sell their wares.

Jars and bottles get dropped off at my house and Housemaid delivers them to those who use them.

A lot of people here carpool 5 to a motorcycle, and 10 to a tiny Japanese make car, helping with gas emissions.

But what about the mass consuming countries of the world?

It's getting hot.

I've never complained about the heat before.

There's a first for everything.

everything is ok

here comes the fight ...

Bed.

All day yesterday, all day today.

Shots of pain in my foot and leg, and it didn't help that The Donkey did her best to knock me over again today, and I tried to save myself by using my ripped ankle to get her off.

Furthermore, I suppose going out Saturday night wasn't the BEST thing for me.

Housemaid looked at me like I was a wimp and kinda laughed at me when I said I just couldn't come by for the invite for a Sunday party in the village.

Yeah, well, my body isn't quite as strong as it used to be.  I gave up being strong after the motorcycle accident.

I accept these shots of pain as a warning.  I allow them to tell me I've done 'enough'.

I had told her I wanted to lie down for a few days until Papi got here, and I should have followed my intuition instead of allowing for someone to persuade me otherwise.

I feel so bad for the dogs.

I hear them acting out.

I read the sadness in their eyes that they can't be near me.

I sense the confusion.

"Why are these other people feeding me, but we're in the same house?"

It's OK my little loves.

Papi comes home in ONE MORE SLEEP and you'll feel things are back to normal.

I'LL feel things are back to normal.

The cats will be miserable again, because the dogs will be in the room.

That's OK.  They had a lovely week with some isolated time with me.

The inverter went out last night.

It wasn't the best sleep, listening to the white noise of the fan to try to keep me cool.

It was pretty hot, but Papi comes home in ONE MORE SLEEP to fix everything.

Papi's coming home tomorrow!!!!!  TOMORROW!!!!!!

At least I'll have my love to take care of me.

I'm staying in bed another day.

I think it finally hit me, after I realized that I truly have a nasty injury last night.

I can't just up and run about with a cast on my leg.

Housemaid will just have to find someone else to party with.

I know that she enjoys my time, as does Our Fave's Mom, as she called me a total of 16 times yesterday.

I understand, she's back in town and would love me to see Little Angel, but when you're tired and hurting, you kinda just want some quiet time.

I'm just too exhausted to even try to speak Spanish, so I studied it instead.

I spent the entire day filling out flashcards in the awesome new flashcard program I found: StudyBlue.

When I switched from iPhone to Galaxy, I had to make a whole new batch, and that's still considered studying.

An entire Sunday, filling in flashcards, instead of talking.

I'm tired.

I hurt.

I have a lot of healing to do.

I didn't even go downstairs for a healthy dinner.

Chocolate was on the menu, as I didn't have to get out of bed for that.

The novelty of my first cast has worn off and now I'm into the injury depression.

Chronic pain will do that.

I anticipated it, but hoped I could stay busy enough for it not to hit me.

No matter how much Housemaid tried to entertain me, there's just no escaping the injury depression.  It really is unavoidable.

It has arrived and Hurricane Andréa is just around the corner.

Time to mope in my bed, just in time for Papi to return.

You poor soul, Papi.

I am grateful for prozac.

Oh, but I'll fight that bitch tooth and nail, all the way down to the Pit of Doom.

i have the ability to choose happiness

what to do?

All I want to do is sleep.

Pain meds will do that to you.

However, Housemaid has other plans for me.

After it took ALL DAY just to get downstairs, make breakfast, pay a bill and buy more pain meds, I told her, "I think I'm staying bed for a few days."

My intention was that I would just stay in bed until Papi came home.

She was shocked and said, "No!  Andréa!  My friend invited us to a party!  You HAVE to go!"

I'm not too good at these crutches.

My balance is bad enough with 2 legs.

I've tried to shower, but having that one leg out of the shower doesn't make for a completely clean body.

I feel like a sticky mess, and now I'm supposed to look pretty for a party?

Plus, I'm sweating so much from working these aluminum gizmos.

At least I got a lot of Spanish studying accomplished over the last few days.

I really was meant to slow down.

When I'm better though, I need to work hard.

We just figured out how much we owe for all the bills we incurred from Casa Paraíso, and damn, it's NOT good.

We're going to be living QUITE frugally for quite a while.

No problem.

Prince Papi will have a crash course in how it was for me for all those years when I lived EastSide.

I had MANY years of practise, and here, it's just part of life.

Most people live dangerously on the edge, yet still have enough money for beer.

I can get a sugary treat for 10 pesos when I'm jonesin' for it.

Or make a chocolate bar last 6 days by only having one chunk a day.

Then Papi told me that the wife of the creep has begged me to come back to teaching.

Part of me wants to go under the conditions that he's not there.

However, no money in the world can make up for the possibility that something could happen with this guy.

Yeah, I need the money, but is there a chance that I could get raped for teaching?

Or suffer more disgusting comments that he somehow thinks are appropriate?

Wife says he would never hurt anyone.  Of course she says that.

All I know is, I responded to the wife and explained that I would not be in a safe environment, but she asked if I could teach her child in a different house.  Like maybe a neighbour's house.

What if the creep sees me?

Do I continue, because I need the money, and trust that he will leave me alone if he sees me?

Or do I continue on, looking for other students, eating less chocolate?

Would I be doing the wrong thing by going against my word of keeping myself safe?

Or would I be empowering myself by attaining an income under my terms?

All I know is, the creep never told her what it was he did.

She said he mentioned 'something about my skirt flitting up with the wind'.

Right.

Dude.

You left out the part about your pecker standing at attention, pointing to it and telling me that was 'my fault'.

What to do?

I could really use the money.

i know my inner self will guide me to the right decision

taking care ...

Doggy guilt.

Worst guilt out there.

They cry at the door.

But I can't be around The Donkey.

Man.  She is strong.

Yesterday, she jumped on me, knocking the wind out of me for 20 minutes.

But not only that, if there wasn't a wall behind me, myself and my crutches would have been down on the ground with a possible concussion.

Nobody better fuck with her.

She's strong, tall, and fast.

I just can't be around her.  She's too much for me right now, and she knows I'm vulnerable, so she's taking advantage of the fact.

I stay locked behind the iron door, and she stays outside crying.

Crying!

How can I live with myself!?!?!

Well, Papi comes back in 5 sleeps.

In 5 sleeps they get to come back upstairs because Papi can let them out.

You know what's really funny?

Before Papi left, I told him, "When you come back, I'm taking a week off and not doing ANYTHING!"

He was saying I didn't do much more than dishes and laundry here.

The best way to show him how much I actually do would be to not do anything and he can see everything I do then.

Well, would you look at that.

I wasn't kidding.

I won't be doing anything.

He'll be stuck with it all.

So sorry, my love, it's like the motorcycle accident all over again.

Only this time, I'm more aware of my surroundings and can have a decent conversation.

Like for instance, "Papi, can you bring me water?"

Or how about, "Papi, can you make me my salad?"

Or better yet, "Papi, can you please wash my back?"

I have had a few showers since the cast, but having a cast means I have one foot out of the shower.

I'm not feeling as clean as I would normally.

Today, I decided I'm staying in bed with my ankle up.

I've been taking pain killers for a few days, and today?

I'd rather just lie here and allow gravity to help with the pain today.

I need rest.

Rest is what heals us.

The Housemaid took me out to see some beautiful sights yesterday.

I think she's trying to keep me occupied.

She knows how it feels.  The same thing happened to her.  She refused to go to a doctor and limped on a bad ankle for a week and wound up in a cast as well.

So, she's really taking good care of me.

However, today, I need to rest.

I'm so sorry, dogs.  I really am.

It's so hard to see them so depressed.

5 more lonely nights for them while Dominican Daddy takes care of them.

Now?

Nap.

Definitely nap.

Heal.

i am learning the art of self love

no bueno.

I remember sitting outside a hospital on a rock, waiting for a 'short bus' to come bring my crippled body home after the motorcycle accident.

I felt so vulnerable.

Me with my cane, still very fragile and needing some assistance to walk a short distance.

I was weak.

I was compromised.

I was afraid of the potential people had to prey on an easy target.

I feel it again.

The other day, I went to the hospital, just to 'check out' my ankle, as the swelling and pain weren't going away.

Sure enough, I was told I'd torn the ligament in my ankle, not enough for surgery, but enough that they had to put a cast on it to immobilize it for 3 weeks.

It kinda feels like the 'behave yourself' punishment, for having limped about on a fucked up ankle for a week, ignoring my intuition.

I honestly thought it would just go away on it's own.

I also honestly thought I was over-reacting to the pain.

Turns out, I was under-reacting.

I guess that comes with 4 years of chronic pain from a bitch of a back, and comparing the level of pain.  I suppose I figured, if the pain wasn't as bad as my back, then it's not so bad.

Anyway, now I feel VERY insecure about my safety.

I am not feeling like I can protect myself.

Yesterday, I had to go shopping.

I needed the Housemaid to help me.

Her and Our Unadopted Child were so amazing.

They were my saviours.

Helping me in and out of the car with my crutches, grabbing the items I needed, opening doors for me.

I can't even tell you how grateful I am to have had them help me out.

The Housemaid and Dominican Daddy are now the dog guardians.

Dogs are NOT impressed with this turn of events, and are destroying every single thing they can find in revolt against my inability to be their everything.

They are banished from the bedroom, so that Dominican Daddy can let them out all night.

They are being fed by Housemaid.

Our DR Family is happy because all their help is earning the family a little bit more money.

I have my own assistant.

Oh man, she's more than an assistant.

Seriously?  She's my everything right now.

But the best part is that I have constant companionship while I feel I need it.

Normally?  I'd be cringing at the fact that someone is around all the time.

Not now.

Now I'm grateful.

Only if you've ever been on crutches do you know how hard the simplest task is.

Like bringing a glass of water up a flight of stairs.

Yeah.

No.

I've put it in a bottle and thrown it into a bag I carry non-stop, thanks to a lovely tip a very sweet Facebook friend gave me.

She also tipped me off about the rolly chair.

Yes!  The rolly chair is a great way to get around in the middle of the night.

Especially now that there are no dogs in the room to roll over.

6 sleeps until Papi comes home.

i know that putting myself first is not selfish, but rather self-care

BIEN!!!

Well, I guess I'm taking a trip to the doctor after I teach today.

Still swollen.

Still in pain.

I concede.

I was supposed to rest it all day yesterday, but dammit if I didn't go to feed the dogs to find that there was not enough food for the next day.

I had to take a trip to Santiago to buy more.

These are big dogs with big stomaches.

Holy shit!  We are going to go broke feeding them.

At THE MOMENT I realized we didn't have enough food, I had someone else come to the door to try to sell us another one.

And damn, he was CUTE!

But, honestly, we can't afford a 7th dog.

Besides, that poor thing probably wouldn't do so good with The Donkey and The Thug.

He's much too frilly and fluffy, and the way The Thug gives a beat down?  No.  I don't think he'd fare so well.

Not a tough one.

Anyway, no.  No more fucking dogs.

So, I invited Housemaid to go with me for the hour and a half drive to the city.  I really didn't want to go alone.

If something happened, leaving me hobbling around with a fucked up ankle, I would not be happy.

So, we went, and we talked.

I don't know if you really get it, when I say, "We talked."

As in, we had conversations in Spanish all the way there and back.

I was shocked at myself.

It didn't dawn on me until when I was home later, trying desperately to grab a moment to rest that fucking ankle, when Little Angel's dad came to the door interrupting my opportunity to put my foot up.

He was asking for money.

Dude.

Do you know we have 6 dogs and they go through a jumbo Costco size bag in a week?

No.

We can't give you money.

But as he was speaking, I was understanding him so much better than before.

It's finally happening.

I'm seeing the switch into deciphering what people say.

It is taking me so long to interpret, that I thought I'd never hear words.

I'm hearing!

I'm so grateful for all the work I've done.  I'm much slower than others, because I have so much difficulty with my memory, but it's happening.

Did I ever tell you I'm one of 'those' who talks to themselves?

Hey.  I make great company.  I'm just grateful I have dogs, so that when someone catches me, I can make it sound like I'm talking to the hounds.

Anyway, I spoke to myself IN SPANISH!

That made me giggle.

Well, only 8 more sleeps until Papi does the doggy night shift.

Bastards were up at 2 a.m. last night.

I'm so tired.

I miss my love.

i believe in all of my abilities

i need my love ...

... your sunday sillies ...

OK.

So, if it's not bad enough that those of us with O.C.D. check our alarm clocks non-stop, what happens when that damn thing doesn't work?!?!?!

Well, then, we with O.C.D. are going to be EVEN MORE frantic about checking the time throughout the night.

I had mine set.  All ready to go.

My new Samsung Galaxy actually tells you, every time you save or make a change, that the time is set for 'X' amount of hours and minutes from now.

Great for someone with O.C.D.  Unless that fucking thing doesn't go off.

OR!

It's possible the alarm isn't loud enough to wake me up.  That may be the case as well.  I might download something REALLY obnoxious to wake me up.

Never-the-less, as per my usual checking of the time all night long, I looked at my clock, only to realize I was supposed to be out for The Garage Band kids 5 MINUTES PREVIOUS!!!!!!

Seriously.  I woke up 5 minutes after 8.  I was supposed to be up at 7 to prepare for the niños!

I limped out as fast as I could, because when I woke up in the morning, my damn ankle had ballooned again.

I suppose I did something to it the night before when I went to the birthday party in the village for the Housemaid.

You see, I brought the birthday girl some red wine, and of course, I indulged, as it seemed myself and the birthday girl were the only ones they were pouring it for, and everyone else drank beer.

I wasn't out to get snapped, as I had to get up to teach the next day, and besides, the object of the game isn't about getting corked anymore.

It's just for pleasure of some relaxation.

No pain.  As in, no fucking hangovers!

Surely, I wouldn't want to have a Buffalo Breath while singing for the kids.

Nor would I like to have a llama shitting in my mouth the night before teaching, as I wouldn't have the time to shave my tongue before class.

Alas, the wine I brought ran out.

People just kept sending children off to buy more beer, and I just stuck to sipping my wee glass of red wine, giggling at the drunken antics of others.

Then someone showed up with a bottle I'd never seen before: Dominican wine.

"Try some!" they said.  So I did.  I thought they tricked me into drinking some kind of whiskey.

I had to ask them a few times, "True?  This is wine?"  They explained that it is made from apples.  Who knew apples could be so evil!

I just kept saying, "This is strong!" as they laughed at the lightweight gringa.  I didn't need to tell them who I used to be in a former drinking stage of my life.

I only needed the one glass, even though Mr. Gummy kept prodding me to drink more to match his own level of alcoholism.

They kept asking, "But who will drink all this?!?!"

I'm sure you did fine without me, folks.

Off I went to my house, and as the wine wore off, with the help of time and a lot of water, that damn ankle began its wailing of disdain of my treatment toward it.

I guess I walked around too much, not realizing it, because I had that magic elixir that took away all pain, allowing me to walk MORE!

I thought little sleep would take care of that!  I'm in the land of healing, no?!?!

I guess it doesn't count when you've done something 'new' to yourself.

So, I lied in bed all day yesterday, trying to get the swelling down with my legs up, doing my best to ignore my throbbing toes.  It is bloody angry.

I listened to dogs fart and snore all day, and I suppose that's my lot again as I rest it today.

I have the feeling I did something a little ominous to my dear wee ankle.  Oh, how I wish I had pain meds.

Come home Papi!!

9 sleeps left.

Oh, how I need you, but how I miss you even more than that.

i believe i can be kinder to myself

calgon, take me away ...

Tendonitis.

I've been playing too much piano in a short period of time.

Not a bad thing to be playing so much, but ouch.

My left hand still hurts from the dog bite, ankle is still swollen and even hurts to roll over in bed ...

... never mind those fucking stairs!!! ...

... and now I have tendonitis in my right hand.

I believe I am at war with myself.

No matter about the tendonitis.

I have a foolproof method to get rid of it.

I used to have it for years.

At one point I couldn't even play an instrument for a few years because of the pain.

Then I learned how to heal it and I could spend hours in the studio with no problem.

I just forgot that I have to do that when I play a lot.

Now I remember.

Ouch.

At least, I have the song down now.

I'm over the top thrilled!!!

I think I'll record it because I like it in Spanish so much.

Did I tell you The Donkey learned how to drink out of the water cooler from Pathetic Puppy?

Yeah.

Awesome.

I want my own machine.

Nothing like nose mucus all over your water source.

Then there's a new trick Jake-a-Like has learned.

Every night, as I'm falling asleep reading my book, I put in my bookmark.

Every morning, when I wake up, I see the bookmark is out.

I just figured I really was too tired and didn't put it in properly, then rolled over on my book and it fell out.

Until this morning.

After a quick visit to the loo, I came back to Jake-a-Like holding it in his mouth, as if he was handing it to me like a prize.

"Look what I did for you!!!"

You know, it's bad enough that they ate my last favourite pen yesterday.

Oh, excuse me while I stop The Donkey from chewing up the floor ...

.......................

.......................

.......................

.. Ok, I'm back.

Anyway, as I was saying, what was I saying?

Oh, yeah.

Demon dogs.

I've figured that The Thug really doesn't want to beat the crap out of Pathetic Puppy, but when The Donkey gets out of hand and bullies her The Thug thinks it's beat down time.

So, I have to be on high alert when the play gets out of hand and calm the crazy play down to make sure nobody draws blood.

Yesterday I had to hose him down to get him off Pathetic Puppy.  Jeeeeeeezus!!!!

This morning, I got invited to the Housemaid's birthday party.

It will be so nice to just sit with all the kids, then struggle to speak to the adults.  No dogs to train.  No beat downs.  Just a birthday gathering.

Furthermore, I'll give the hand a little rest so that it's not so angry with me.

I only have 11 days until I see Papi again.

How I miss you, Papi.

i will accomplish whatever i choose to accomplish

i have a racist dog

I thought my week off would be relaxing.

So far, I'm more exhausted than when I was working.

I didn't even have a moment to write yesterday.

Furthermore, I now need to add having a few catnaps into the mix.

Remember those little pills the vet gave me for the dog bite on my hand this week?

I had some left over.

They came in hand-y ...

... i know ... so cheesy, eh ...

... as I've sprained my ankle, while trying to MANUALLY open the 'automatic' garage door.

We put up a higher wall to keep those damn dogs out of the garage, but it didn't work.

They just get up on top, emulating the goats I've always wanted.

Anyway, as I was pushing that enormous, heavy, wood garage door closed, I fell off that damn wall and sprained my ankle.

Oh, my lack of balance.  Thank you brain injury.

I tried to just tell myself I'm being a wimp about it, ignoring it, and going on with my meagre time I seem to have.

I guess that was a really bad thing to do.

It swelled up and was MORE than enraged with me.

Guess I chose the wrong day to go limping around Puerto Plata to shop with Housemaid.

We stopped to for lunch at a Chinese Dominican restaurant, and as I ate my chicken fried rice, I noticed my ankle was a little more swollen for my liking, so I took one of the pills Dr. Bob had given me.

The drive home was quite chancy.

I thought I'd fall asleep a few times, and I envied the boys in the back who were in a Chinese Dominican restaurant, fried chicken and french fry coma.

None-the-less, when I got home I passed out on the couch from taking the pill while we were out.

Then I heard it.

If you've ever had a water cooler, you'll know the sound.

That 'glug, glug, glug' it makes as you press the lever to get your coveted, cold, clean water.

Oh, I heard it, and looked over to see Pathetic Puppy pushing the lever to help herself to water.

The bowl water just isn't good enough for her.

No, she watched and learned.

I noticed that every single time I was getting myself water, she was right by my side.

Oh, but yes, she was studying.

Now she can help herself to her own cold, clean water, whenever she pleases.

No more sharing spit with those others, who are OBVIOUSLY less than her.

No, she is her own dog, and she is not like 'them'.

She will drink from the fountain of humans!

I knew she was a smart girl, because she's the one who figures out how to piss me off the most.

I never imagined she was capable to study and learn from me.

As soon as this ankle is finished with it's hissy fit, I'm going to do some special training with her.

I think she needs a little bit more than a 'sit' and 'down'.

Even though she won't do them for me.

I can read her thoughts as I ask her to do my bidding, "That's what those other Dominican dogs do!  I'm so much better than them!"

She's so racist.

Speaking of 'sit', The Thug is at least now allowing me to force him into a sit, whereas before, he would starfish and I couldn't even make him budge.

He's still attacking Pathetic Puppy, but I'm getting better at pulling him off by the neck.

Even with a sprained ankle.

i am healthy, healed, and whole

haggard.

I have so much to talk about, but somehow, I don't remember what I was going to tell you.

I do remember one item; tomorrow is the first day teaching the village children's choir.

I better have songs for them to sing, don't'cha think?  I haven't even started to prepare!!!

I've been a 'tad' busy, between Mr. Lumpy, driving to Santo Domingo, volunteering with Dream Project and everything it takes to be prepared for the above.

I'm exhausted, the dishes are piling up and the dogs are being neglected.

We haven't had the Housemaid in for a week, because we haven't been around for her allotted time.

Today is the first day in almost a week that I get to blog with my coffee.

These days, it's about running out the door with travel mug in hand, and waking up on the go while that coffee gets into my system on the road.

Showering?  Ain't nobody got time for dat!

I'm sure the locals are having lots to talk about with the stinky tattooed gringa they gossip about.

I'm pretty happy that the accident occurred 45 minutes away from here.

People in Nagua don't know us and I don't have to bow my head in shame in my own area.

Somehow, I have to look presentable for the children's concert today.

Those little beans at Dream Project are going to perform for a jazz band today.

I look forward to seeing the jazz band, as well as seeing them play for the pros.

The MusicMan is well connected and I'm very happy I've been able to be his assistant for the past few weeks.

The day before, I realized my Spanish has so far to go.

Sometimes, when I'm so tired that I can't even be bothered to shower, I just don't have the energy to study, or for that matter, REMEMBER Spanish.

Yesterday, I had a tough time at the school, and I had a tough time in my Spanish lesson last night.

Thinking that hard is difficult with limited energy!

Well, I might as well tell you about my corn.

I planted some seeds along the wall at the very front of the yard against the wall.

I didn't realized they're like banana trees, in that they're typically like a weed.

You plant in one area, and they spread out.

I have corn popping up in various areas of the yard!

I was wondering why Dominican Daddy wasn't plucking them from the ground, until I realized that they look identical to the other ones I planted.

I hope corn looks pretty, because they're invading our yard and it seems that they'll be spread out in no time.

But I know it wasn't corn I wanted to talk to you about.

Here I am, almost done my blog, and I still don't know what it was I was going to tell you.  It couldn't have been that exciting or I would have remembered right?

Wrong.

My poor injured brain has selective memory when I'm tired or stressed.  I could forget the most important of items.

I'm sure I'll remember later, when I'm in the middle of trying to understand someone's Spanish shpeel and have no idea what they just said, because I was daydreaming about some event of days past.

It will be another moment of me cocking my head, raising an eyebrow with a pained face, saying, "Que?"  That's my go to now for everything.

I was so happy to be able to get up and blog with coffee, thinking it would be a lovely writing session today, then I just sat here staring out at the ocean, watching and listening to waves crash, stunned.

If it weren't for the coffee, eggs, toast and lime infused water I was stuffing down my yak, that bewildered gaze probably would have been accompanied by me drooling all over the dogs that jump on my lap the moment I sit down at this table to write.

Ever have a donkey on your lap?

The Donkey honestly believes she's little.

Anyway, maybe tomorrow will be a little more informative and I'll remember the news I was going to share.

Until then, all you get is puppies, corn and one haggard femme.

i feel good about myself and the lessons i learn from life

day 1 of my roots.

I am so grateful today.

I got one of the two jobs.  The piano teaching job.

My first student in the Dominican Republic.

Yup.

They got me for dirt cheap.

No matter.  It doesn't cost a lot to get food, as I ate the last of my vegetables yesterday.

I was so sad wondering where the hell we were going to get money for veggies!!!

This will cover my veggies!

It feels like I'm really starting my life here now.  I'm putting in roots.

The reason they needed a new piano teacher, was their piano teacher had died.

At first, the opportunist in me thought, "Damn your teacher died?  Does she need a replacement for all her other students?"

Until I heard the story.

She just moved here and was only here for a few months.

She bought a scooter to travel to and from the lessons.

She was killed on her first day riding the scooter.

Absolutely horrible.

I can't tell you what the story brought up for me for flashbacks of my motorcycle accident.

The fact that I'm replacing an angel who wasn't as lucky as me is almost too eery.

It is pretty typical for people to die here, or at least lose a limb, from motorcycle accidents.

I don't know if they keep stats on it, but I would venture to say it's in the top 5 of the world.

Papi and I can't go a day without seeing someone who's missing an arm or a leg here.

Not to mention, it's very rare to see someone wearing a helmet.

Unless of course it's raining.

Because that's what a helmet is for, right?

To keep out the rain.

Anyway, I'm on the verge of panic attacks here just writing about the insanity on two wheels in this country.

Actually if I'm being honest, I'm in the middle of a panic attack.

My poor lungs feel like there's a mattress on top of them.

Let's change the subject.

I made my first dehydrated coconut yesterday!!!  Success!!

Oh, it is sooooo sweet and needs a little more time in the heat.

But I have coconut for treats now.

I'm going to search for coconut recipes that I can make without coconut oil to begin with.

Once I get paid, I'm on an all out man hunt for cheesecloth so that I can make the oil.

I have the YouTube videos to show me.

But you think I can find cheesecloth in this damn country?!?!

Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!!!!

I don't know how people make coconut oil here without a cheesecloth, but the last time I asked SOMEONE to show me how to toast my coffee beans, they were destroyed.

Yes, the Housemaid destroyed my first batch of coffee beans because she thought she knew how to do it.

I learned the right way.  On YouTube.

But I need the damn cheesecloth so that I have the damn coconut oil for the damn treats!!!

I want my goddamn treats!!!!

There.  Panic attack averted.

Now I go get ready to meet my new student.

My first student.

I'm so grateful.

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

peace?

What is this I hear?

Nothing?  No workers?  No children?  Silence?

It's almost as if I feel 'peace'.

Other than the puppies crawling all over me.

There's no more money to do the last of the finishing touches The Carpenter wants to do, so there's nobody working.

The dogs are free.

I'm free.

Papi has no money for his drugs of choice, so there's a forced sobriety at the moment.

I get a ray of peace in every corner of my day.

Of course, there is the Housemaid coming in an hour and a half, but that's only for an hour of work today as I won't have her clean upstairs to allow Papi rest.

Papi will be sleeping quite late today, as I gave him one of my pills I used to take for nerve pain, that tripled as an anti-depressant and knocked me out so I could sleep through the pain.

Papi will be knocked out for quite some time and have one of the best sleeps he's had in a while.

He's going to go through withdrawal from the clonazepam, because he ran out, so he definitely needs some sleep.

There's usually a silver lining to every hardship.  Being broke means he can't go buy pills and beer.

Anyway, I have some herbs I'll be force feeding him, without him knowing it, that should help wash the drugs out of his system faster.  "Here baby, have some orange juice," or, "I opened you a pop."

It doesn't matter how I get it in him, as long as I do.  It's tasteless thankfully.

Still, I feel like there's someone around me in the yard.

Every noise I hear I think it's the workers coming to ask for a trip to the hardware store, or to oversee something they're working on, or a question.  "Andréa!  Andréa!  Andréa!"

Every time the dogs run toward the gate I think it's another child just wandering in because they can.  "Andréa!  Andréa!  Andréa!"

It's almost like I have a bit of a P.T.S.D. reaction to people in my space calling my name.

There is a very good possibility that I have a line on work for the month of July though, so I'll be away from the house a lot, leaving Papi to fend for himself with the dogs and tail end of work that needs to be done.

Not to mention, chasing away the kids from the yard, yelling, "No Andréa aqui!"

It's also possible that I have a piano student.  Here, it's all about how cheap you can get things, so she's searching for the best price of a teacher, not the best teacher.

However, ANY money is money and that's how it goes here.  Everyone charges a lesser amount than the first person, just to get the job.

Desperation.  I feel it too.

So my normal charge of $40/hour piano lessons will be chopped to $15/hour.  I'm not shitting you, but it's balanced off by how affordable it is to live healthy here.

Nurses here only make $200 a month.  You don't come to the Dominican Republic to make money.

I have no idea how much the other month long job pays, I'll just be proud if I get it, because I would be teaching music to children with the Dream Project at their summer camp.

I went there looking to volunteer, and found that there's a possibility of work.  Not that I'll be making very much money, but I'll be meeting other musicians and people who speak English.

Who knows?  Maybe I'll meet that physical friend I need so badly?  Or that female percussionist I so badly want to collaborate with to get a new feel for music.

I went in to the Dream Project office on the way back from getting my negative results from Mr. Lumpy, which also happened to be the day the shit hit the fan with Papi's 'normal drinking'.

I needed to feel like I was starting a new life, with or without my love.  I needed to feel like I could still HAVE a life whether Papi was going down or not.

Anyway, the results were negative and I'm trusting their test that says that rat bastard lump is just a cyst now, and really don't feel like going for a 2nd opinion.

I'm done fretting over Mr. Lumpy.  If it turns out to be something that grows and is sinister, it means I get new boobs.

Not a bad trade.

But my time can be better spent right now.  I don't need to have the obsession of fear.

I need to experience peace.

i feel total peace with my powerful self-esteem