nice try

So, there I was, trying my first day of actual meditation.

I've been told that it's something I need to do for a long time.

I do find a place in music that is akin to meditation.

It really is the only time that nothing else enters my mind, other than the song I'm working on.

Maybe that's why it makes me so happy and peaceful when I play.

It's actually meditation!

But still, I had a friend give me some pointers on what I can do to start my journey into this new world.

So.  I sat outside on the table.

Yes, the table.

It's pointless to sit in chairs, because we happen to have massive oafs who will stop at nothing to be lap dogs.

The entire 6-Pack at one time.

Now, maybe someone who's been meditating for a long time can still do so with a Donkey, a Thug and others perched on their laps, wrestling for their attention.

But this is not a task for someone who's new at this gig.

So, I sat on the table.

Those waves, that happened to make me feel like I was listening to white noise while I was healing from the ankle, were going to be my focus.

In ...

Out ...

In ...

Out ...

Be sure not to pass out!

You see, I kinda have troubles with lightheadedness when I breathe too deeply.

Anyway, there was a moment that I started to only hear the waves!

Then it happened.

The MOMENT I got into the calming of the waves, there was Mr. Extortion outside the gate.

Waving, "Hola!!" with a sneaky, sly smile that tried to say he's a friend.

Sweet mother of baby Jesús, what the fuck do you want?!?!  I'm trying to fucking meditate here!!

Off I limped to hear his speech, "This is not sufficient for the waves.  You need big rocks."

Yes, the ocean gets VERY high in the winter, but we can't really afford the rocks right now, and decided we'd do a temp job with concrete bags.

But really it had nothing to do with his 'concern'.  Really he was saying, "We'd like more money from you, so if you could get those rocks, we could extort from you, if you don't mind."

I simply looked at him with a less than sweet gringa pan face, telling him this was temporary until we could afford the rocks.

He continued to go on about it, so I made it simple by turning into a broken record.  "We have no money."

More he went on about the rocks, thinking we're rich like our big house neighbours, as I repeated, "We have no money."

Then the little bugger was going to delve into an old extortion tactic of trying to get money out of us for the garbage pick-up by asking who takes care of it.

I now looked at him with Pissy Face and reminded him that we already told him that the gardener takes care of it and, "We have no money."

No, sir, you are not going to pull that one on us.

We've been here for 10 months.  We're hip to your game.

I was ready to lose the last ounce of spirituality I was trying to grasp with meditation and give this guy a piece of my mind.

Instead, I excused myself, leaving him standing at the gate, limping a little more excessively than I needed to to let him know that he REALLY disturbed my peace.

Papi says this was a test to see how well I could take on the task of meditation.

I'd say I didn't do so well.

I went back and hid in the house, playing my piano.

Nobody can see me when I'm in there, and I can pretend I don't hear people screaming my name at our gate.

I might try meditating again.

Or maybe I'll just stick to playing for hours on end.

i focus on the present

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

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

Say it isn't so.

Well, I'm back on the drama buggy.

You know how sometimes, you say things out loud and they don't come true?  You jinx it?

Well, I'm hoping that by writing this, that happens now.

I'm hoping that it's just 'nothing' and will be taken care of swiftly, because I needed to take one of Papi's clonazepam to help me stop obsessing about the tissue issue and actually sleep last night.

Sleep I did.

Then resumed thinking about it the moment I awoke.

My breasts have always been a little on the lumpy side, so I've had to get used to that when I check myself out on a regular occasion.

However, upon itching and scratching my boob a few days ago, there was something that didn't feel like my normal tissue.

Last night, I felt it again and it definitely didn't match the rest of my breast and it's nothing I've felt before.

One thing I wasn't completely honest about with my itchy boob post the other day, is that it's only the right side that's itching.

I sorta didn't want to say that out loud, when I coupled it with the fact that there is something there that doesn't feel 'normal'.

I asked Papi, "Please, can you appease my paranoia?"

When I told him what for, he felt the problem and when he touched it, it really hurt, because he wanted to get in there to make sure he was feeling what I was feeling.

He immediately started crying.

My dearest Papi went into trigger mode, from memories of having to watch his mother suffer from cancer, only to lose her in the end.

We calmed ourselves down by trying to remember that if this is a problem, they do great things now.

Great things other than just cure that damn disease.  But then the cancer industry is too big to do that.  They'd lose a lot of money if they cured it.

Anyway, off my soap box.

A lot of women have a lump and they get it removed to find that it's really nothing.

Well, yesterday, we didn't get to the hospital for my ear that isn't hearing properly, but today, we'll be going for a mammogram, no matter the cost.

We'll be accompanied by Visa, MC and Amex, our good buddies as of late.

If there is an actual problem, I'll be getting back to Canada pronto, again, regardless of the cost.

So, there.  I said it out loud.  Now it won't be true.

Right?

One of the reasons we never made it to the hospital yesterday was because our neighbours (you know?  the people everyone judges about me back home, because they're supposed to be allowed to steal from us?), called Mr. Extortion to say we were doing work in our yard.

They cut a kick back for tattling and they do everything they can to get money out of us.

No matter how hard we try to be friends, even after we see them steal our concrete and our cement blocks, steal our wood, paint, they still only want MORE money from us.

They don't want to be friends.

I told the Housemaid, who has the biggest gossip problem in the village that they are not our friends, because friends wouldn't do that.

... friends also honour their contracts ... sigh ... say goodbye to another friend back home i loved ... you've officially put a stake through my heart ...

They don't WANT friendship, they only want our money.

So fuck it, I'm done.

Judge all you need to North America's West Coast uber political.

Call me racist if you need to make yourself feel superior and try to put me down, but from this point forward, congeniality will be the name of the game, not giving.

I'll still teach their children music, because those little innocents didn't do anything wrong.  Their parents haven't taught them the best ways to steal.  Yet.

As for Mr. Extortion, I don't care HOW big his fucking gun is, I'll be telling him I know the 'rules'.  You can only take from us for a new building.  It's not new.  It's a repair of the old.

Go away.

Shoot me if you have to, but you're not stealing anything more.

I have much bigger things to worry about than your non-stop theft.

i replace my anger with compassion and understanding

it's all about learning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Am I boring you with coffee talk?

OK.

I'll talk about my garden.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But we have trustworthy electricity again!

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

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

Learning.

So much.

Including the fact that the Housemaid took us YET again.

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

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

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

Learning.

So much.

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

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

dog mania

I need a vacation from my baby sister's vacation.

We're quite busy.

Not to mention, I'm eating the worst foods.  All my allergy foods, and now I'm kinda in addiction mode.  No problem.  Veggie day today.  All day.  Only veggies.  That will take care of that!

So, it wasn't a surprise to me when I found there was a bit of a Hurricane Andréa sighting in the house this morning.

It didn't help that I had the Housemaid come trying to get more money out of us this morning.

We had made the mistake of feeling sorry for her, and decided we would use her to get the rocks we so desperately need for our front area to protect us from those waves.

Those waves are CRAZY today!  Our yard will be washed away if we don't get a barrier.

But again yesterday, she tried to tell us we need to pay off the authorities in order to do it.

I just looked at her and said, "Fine.  No more money.  No more Marina.  No rocks."

I find it 'interesting' that she returned this morning, saying there was no need for Mr. Extortion now.

Somehow, she got 'permission', which was explained to me while I was trying to do my morning routine today.

I think I need a sign on all the doors.

"Do not disturb the gringo while she's eating breakfast.  There will be swift consequences.  It is her blog time."

So, I'm doing my blog after the fact, but, like I said, makes for a bitchy, Pissy Face.

Anyway, I'm also a little tired from trying to keep up with my baby sister and family.

Today, they're on an excursion, so we're going to pick up another dog.

I mean, what else should we be doing other than picking up another dog?

She's only 4 months and should prove to be a GIANT hound.

She's an Irish wolfhound crossed with a rottweiler, so, imagine a really tall, bearded rottweiler.

She's another rescue.  Well, here in the Dominican Republic, almost all the dogs are rescues.  Not too many people buy their dogs from breeders.

Except Mr. Richy Rich next door.  He OBVIOUSLY got his 3 rottweilers from a breeder.

Fine dogs those ones.  They walk like a school of fish.  Their rottweiler asses switch back and forth, in an equal, graceful gait, with every gargantuan step they take.  Mouths open in a half smile, heads turning in tandem from any noise that might be grabbing their attention.

Gorgeous!!!

Anyway, we're good with mutts and Dominican dogs.

So, while my sister is out giving candy and school supplies to the Haitian village kids, we'll be bringing home another dog.

The people at AAAS were grateful that we tried out Mr. Majestic.  Now they have excellent information about him, so that they could market him for the right family.

It made me feel so much better.  It felt like we weren't just dropping off a dog because we gave up.  We were giving some family the proper information so that he could be placed in a home where he gets the right attention, and perhaps doesn't have to feel like he's failing all the time.

How horrible it must be to always be told you're doing the wrong things?!?!

He'll go to a family where he'll be the greatest guard dog, be told he's wonderful and live happily ever after.

Old Ghost Face is doing so much better now!  She's come up for cuddles, and even came into the house for 10 minutes.

Well, not really on her own.

Papi sorta 'lovingly' dragged her in to let her know she's allowed.

The visit didn't last too long.  I don't think she's ever been in a house.

But here we are.

Dog mania.

Dogs.

Nothing but dogs.

I'm in heaven.

healthy foods taste better

more to learn

Papi and I were given some advice on the DR1 Forum that we're taking.

Best to get everything in place before we do the deed of 'letting her go due to lack of funds'.

We shouldn't say we're 'firing' her.  We need to keep on really good terms with her, because we need our safety.

It's also best not to talk about the theft, or there will be hostility and bad feelings, leading to possible security issues as well.  I just have to swallow my pride and let her think she has one over us.

The last piece of advice, is we need to get a signed paper into the city's books that show how long she worked for, how much we paid her, her hours, and her signature.

To fire someone, you have to pay severance.  I do think that's fair, and I'm glad they have that law here for people's benefit.

However, the other half we did hear about earlier, that is now confirmed, is they'll take you to court and say they worked for longer than you're saying, and that they earned more money that you paid them, and that you owe them more money, ie: another Mr. Extortion.

The locals will win every time.  Expats don't have a hope in hell, unless they get that paper signed before the deed is done.

So, being the crafty, thieving, sly one she is, we'll definitely take these people's experience into consideration and heed their warning.

Not to mention, we couldn't get the locks changed yesterday.  We can't let her go until the locks are changed.

I can't wait for all this to be done.  Seriously.  She didn't even clean yesterday.  I don't know what she did while we were out dealing with dogs again, but it definitely wasn't cleaning.

While we were at the shelter/vet, we also had MORE confirmed information that people WILL poison your dogs here.

It's such a normal occurrence, that they sell poison kits for it.

You see, we're going to pick up another dog today.  Her face is front and center on the AAAS Facebook page.

She's a cranky lookin' mama that we're told is a GREAT guard dog.

She is traditionally an outside dog, and when we spoke to the Canine Quarterback there about keeping her that way for extra outside security, she reinforced what everyone else here has had to say.

If we leave the dog outside at night, they'll throw poisoned meat over the fence, then the next day while you're grieving their death, they'll come back and rob you.

So, mama's gonna be livin' in the lap of luxury.  A Canadian dog, living inside, and probably on the bed.

When we finally get one that is big enough, that is.  We're STILL waiting for our money transfer.  Visa is loving us right now.

I'm still learning patience for the 'Dominican Time'.

Anyway, we're getting her and one more.  We heard there was a female rottweiler looking for a home.  We'll take her!  Sold!

When we spoke to the Canine Quarterback about the new mama and one more, she asked us, "What are you doing here?  Collecting dogs?!?!"

I reminded her, "We've only been here 6 weeks!  We're just getting started!"

If I can't have my goats, because our land is too small, then I'll be happy with the chaos of dogs.

Hopefully that will be an extra deterrent as well.

Dogs, a wall with broken glass on top, a stun gun (and another a little more deadly), a machete (that I am sharpening more every day and practising on coconuts), a bat, and soon to be bars on the windows.

Oh!

And prickly bushes outside windows as well.  The DR1 Forum taught us that one too.

Good info there, once you weed through the morons who are looking for advice on women.

Like, for example, "I've been sending money to a woman here and am finally coming to visit her.  Do you think she is just using me for my money?"

Dude, if you're stupid enough to be sending money to someone you don't know, and are falling for it being 'love', you shouldn't be moving here.

I promise you.

You'll be broke.

Or dead.

i am safe

Gun Slingin'

I didn't really want to get out of bed today.  I was afraid of what this new day would bring, as over the past couple of days, we've had more stress and anxiety from more li'l fuckers to deal with.

Let me tell you about Mr. Extortion #2.  He decided that he would stroll on to our property and demand we pay him to remove our garbage.

Fortunately, the Housemaid and the Our Translator (aka the Pool Man's wife), were here to tell him to piss off.

The Housmaid's husband, the Dominican Daddy, takes our garbage as part of his yard care taking we pay him for.

Mr. Extortion #2 shows up with a fancy document that he demanded we sign, and those ladies gave him a piece of their mind and then some.

I'm telling you, I couldn't be more happy to get that damn wall finished.  All you bitches fuck off and don't come back to my property again!!!

Then there was the water delivery.

You see, we didn't want to fill our pool with water from the house, because it's well water and it is very dirty.

So, the Pool Man hired someone to go to a river and get us some nice, clean water.

They filled the pool while we were sleeping and we woke up to a concrete tub of mud.

They just grabbed it from the bottom of the river bed.  They didn't want to work for the clean stuff.  They just wanted a quick buck.

There was our the Pool Man, Our Translator, Papi, and our temporary evening guard, all telling the guy to return it and get the clean water we asked for.

He wasn't budging.

So, I filled up a clear plastic container with our house water, marched over with Pissy Face and said, in very broken Spanish, "This is our house water and it dirty, so we to ask you to bring clean water, but you to bring water that is more dirty of our house water.  Why I to pay for dirty water, when I to have free dirty water in my house?!?!?!"

Still wasn't budging.

So, I tried the next offer, "I to pay your gas and no more."

It was around that time that our Translator, the Pool Man and his son were clocked out for the day, so they left us to haggle with the dirty water brute.

Good luck!  The guy was body blocking them from getting into their car!!

We don't have any more bullets for our gun, as we used them up when we were test driving it, but dammit if I wasn't ready to go get it and fake the guy out.

Oh, did I tell you how funny it was to give that gun a whirl the other night?

There we were on the balcony, and POW! it went into the ocean.

Right afterward, the 2 guards with the rich man next door were on top of their wall with their gun and POW! they shot theirs off too amongst the laughs and arms in the air.

Gun slingin' in the Dominican Republic!  It felt like I was in a segment of the Beverly Hillbillies with all the 'woohooing' and cheering that was going on.

It was like a regular night in Alberta!

Anyway, I digress.

After much scuffling and yelling, the Pool Man's son came back and said, "Just pay the guy.  This isn't worth it.  We'll just make sure everyone knows he's a crook."

So, yet again, we were bamboozled.  We paid $250 for dirty mud water that is currently being soaked to the bottom of the pool by way of chemicals.

Now, we all know what a bubble girl I am.  I'm afraid to swim in that water after all is said and done, but not because of the dirty water.  Because of the chemicals.

I'll probably singe.  You know me.  Allergic to everything.

Anyway, the water is starting to clear after 3 treatments, but the next problem is that we have no electricity to get it to move around.

We have a 2nd electrician here today, who we're hoping will fix everything the first one didn't.

It seems every 'professional' person our Housemaid has recommended has had to come back to double dip and 'fix it' again, then she indignantly asks why we won't hire her friends to paint our wall.

We learned.  All the workers here will say they can do anything you ask them, no matter if they've never done it before.

People are really gung-ho to work, so they say, "Yup!  I can do that!"  But they can't, and they don't.

We're slowly learning to trust a professional to recommend a professional.  Not to mention, this new electrician today is giving me Spanish lessons on top of doing the electrical.

It's a beautiful day in the neighbourhood.  The waves are crashing and inviting me saying, "Come!  Let us tickle your toes!"

But I'm too afraid to swim in that rip tide from hell on our segment of the island.

nervousness is only a sign from my intuition that i will listen to 

lessons learned.

One thing I've learned over the past few days, is there is definitely a purpose for paper towels, and that I should never skimp on how much I use when picking up little gifts the puppies are leaving for us in the middle of the night.

Oh how lovely it is to wake up to first thing in the morning.  You really have to watch your step.

Yesterday, I used a tactic to speak to the house maid about theft.

I informed her that I know how some people will steal a little bit at a time, and, "I trust you are not going to do this to us."

I told her that as long as she's a good person, she can work here.

She really stepped up her cleaning and after speaking to her about how food should not be on dishes when they've been 'cleaned', we are grateful to have her.

There was a big blowout between the Pool Man, his wife and the caretakers of our house.  So much so, that even the Dominican Daddy and his mother from down the road got involved.

We weren't here.  We were on yet another venture of bring yet another animal into the vet.  It's become a daily occurrence.

While we were gone, emotions boiled over and everyone was fighting.

I came home to hearing both sides and with one side, I said, "I told her what I want done, so she understands now."

With the other side I said, "Don't worry about the pool people being bossy, because they're just being over protective of us and they won't be here for very long.

With close to tears in her eyes, she gave me a hug for understanding and I spoke to her about honesty in our home.

We are considering keeping her now, and at one point, she told me that if we ever don't have money, she'll come to clean anyway.

I told her that if we ever had no money, I would find a way to exchange services.

Then the funniest thing happened.

After speaking badly about the Pool Man's wife, she told me, "All Dominican women talk bad about each other."

Within 10 minutes of this happening, the Pool Man's wife said the same thing to me, "All Dominican women talk bad about each other."

I told them both with a giggle that it's not much different in Vancouver.  This week has been proof of that.

We actually thought the drama would be better once we moved out of the city.  Turns out we couldn't have been further from the truth.

I suppose when you move away and aren't in people's vicinity, it makes it easier for them to attack you because they know you won't run into them on the street.

I suppose when you move away, you can find out the truth of how people feel about you.

That's fine.  We've learned more in 3 weeks than we would have ever expected.

Learning is good.

I've learned that not speaking my mind is no longer the way for me to work.

I've learned that I know more about myself than I did before we left the big city.

I've learned that I don't need too many beautiful private emails from people, who understand because they've been where we are, to make my heart heal.

I learned from a woman of colour, who moved from a developing country to Vancouver, that she too was robbed and taken advantage of.

Like I've maintained before, a thief is a thief no matter where they come from.  Even people who nickel and dime their friends are just as greedy.

We were warned by most that we would be taken advantage of financially by someone we know back home, and I didn't want to believe it, but it's true as well.  Both Papi and I tried so hard to say, "No, you're wrong about that.  You'll see."

Well, we see now.

I'm grateful for being a kind person, even if I'm taken advantage of by people and even if I make mistakes.

I doesn't mean I need to stop being generous.

I can give my time and my love and if someone can't give it in return, the generosity stops with that person only.

I'll just move it on to someone else.

I feel better about the house maid and I talking.

I'm grateful to have her help us, while I'm running around chasing after escape artist puppies and cleaning up their business on the floor.

It's nice to return from the vet to a clean house.  We'll just go with that for now and be grateful for what have and what we've learned.

As the rain comes down in torrents, the workers are all hiding from it on our deck, singing their songs to pass the time.

It's a beautiful thing, even if I don't know what they're saying.

Oh great.  Mr. Extortion just showed up again.

i have no right to compare myself to anyone else, because i don't know their whole story

self-loathing.

Sometimes, my emotions get too difficult to bear.

Sometimes, I can't handle it.

Sometimes, I really don't like myself.

Sometimes, it would be easier just to die than not have to deal with my feelings, because they're just so big they're hard to overrule.

I've fucked up so much in the past little while and last night was the worst one, because Papi was so angry with me.

I can't multi-task since my brain injury.

I can't retain anything in a conversation if my attention is on something else.  I need to focus on focusing if you want me to know important information, and when I'm stressed, it gets even worse.

When I'm stressed I can get lost in the city I was born in.  When I get stressed, I only get the first words and if I'm lucky, the last words of instructions.

We moved here for a better life, and I'm so grateful I have so much less pain, but all the sun in the world is never going to fix my injured brain.

I feel stupid and worthless.

I was already angry with myself for all my errors, and this emotion was made more challenging because I didn't get the full story from what Papi was needing me to understand.

I didn't hear everything he said.  I heard, "Here is money for the plumber."

I didn't hear the rest of the monologue, which was that he didn't actually know how much it would cost,  and to ask the man.

I was busy cooking, so I couldn't listen very well, not to mention, I was upset with myself for not checking the jar pasta sauce properly in the fridge and used up the next jar.  It was supposed to be for Papi, the plumber and I, but Papi had to go out to buy more and driving at night here is not very safe.

He put the crumpled wad of bills in my pocket as I cooked and ventured out to the store in fear of every minute the sun was setting.

I didn't hear anything Papi said past the money for the plumber is in my pocket, and even if I did hear it, I didn't remember.

I gave the guy the whole fucking roll of bills.  It was beyond the amount Papi meant me to give.

Papi was so mad at me that I couldn't handle the energy that was exuding from him.  I felt I had to go hide in the guest bedroom alone.

My alone place.

We can't be in the same bed right now, because the master bed hurts my back too much and cripples me.

We can't sleep in the guest bed together because there isn't enough room for the 2 of us and dogs, even if they are small.

Alone I cried self-loathing tears.

I hate myself sometimes and wish I could just be my normal self again instead of telling myself I'm a moron.

These are those times that I feel it would just be easier to die.

I'm hurting from people attacking us online.

I'm hurting from a lack of trust in our space.

I'm hurting from being in survival mode and needing to protect ourselves from so many people.

I am sure this will get better.  I believe it will when there aren't 30 strange men in my yard watching my every move.

I am sure once we don't have every child in the neighbourhood trying to play with our puppies and asking for food and money, we'll feel it's our home.

I am sure once we don't have a security guard begging for more money every night after we give him his earnings for his job, we'll feel less guilty for protecting ourselves.

I told the house maid that everyone thinks that just because we're white that we have a lot of money, but that it is not true.

I informed her that all our money is now taken from the wall, the pool and Mr. Extortion and we're living off credit cards.

I'm hoping she gets the picture.  It seemed like she did.

This morning, I'm feeling a little less on the suicidal side, but I'm pretty depressed.

This week's online attack of Papi and I, combined with exhaustion, begging from so many people, being taken by those we thought we could trust and the frustration of never have a functioning brain like I did before the motorcycle accident have taken their toll.

I am sure, once I can get back on my food plan, exercise in the pool and do my yoga, my body will compliment my brain and I will feel better.

i am intelligent

Mr. Extortion was back.

The roosters are crowing.

The sun is shining.

I'm moving from this lying down place to the outside to watch the pool get built.

It's my new TV.

Here's yours: episode 2.

Yesterday, Mr. Extortion showed up in our yard again.

At first I was thinking to myself, "What the fuck are YOU doing in MY fucking yard!?!?!" and was about to ask him such.

Then I remembered I can't take the guy on.  He's corrupt and fucking scary.

But that didn't stop me from having Pissy Face.

My Pissy Face wasn't as covert as Papi would have liked, prompting him to say, "You are looking really upset.  Stop it."

To which I replied, "It's my fucking house and my fucking yard.  I can have any fucking face I want on MY fucking property."

The reason I was mostly angry, was Mr. Extortion just showed up unannounced and was hanging out with our house maid, all best buddy, chatty chatty.

Smiles wide.

You know why?

They both had on beautiful new clothes.

Other than his designer jeans and fancy man top, dude had on a brand new pair of gorgeous white Doc Martins.

Hell.  I can't afford that.

Know why?

BECAUSE HE TOOK ALL OUR FUCKING MONEY!!!!

So, there they are, all decked out in brand new duds and I'm sitting in an 2nd hand dress that is destroyed by way of her fucking bleach.

They sure looked nice in their new clothes.

Apparently, he was here just to 'make sure nothing NEW was being done'.

They are not the suffering developing world people I thought they were.

Nor are they are ever using Papi or I for any more cash.

Then she crossed the line.

When it was time to talk to our plumber, who is my biggest hero in the world right now, ...

... damn it's nice to have a warm shower again!! ...

... the house maid decided that she would follow Papi in to eavesdrop on their conversation about how much we're being charged for our water to be fixed.

Fortunately, he told Papi he'd tell us tomorrow, so she didn't get the inside scoop.

But damn.

She's really making herself at home here.

She lived here for 11 months while the house sat empty, so she feels like it is hers.

It's not anymore.

And bringing in strangers who's husbands are in jail, not to mention Mr. Extortion is really not cool.

There will be some changes around here, because now I'm so fucking angry that I have no qualms about telling her what I expect out of an employee.

We will never be giving her any more than the money we give her while she's employed.

Which isn't for much longer.

Her family is not our DR Family any longer.

Let me tell you.

I am so angry, that after all was said and done and there was nobody left in our yard, I ate an entire bag of corn chips in seconds flat.

I hate it when I have an angry eating episode, but even more horrible is the fact that I was so nauseas from eating all the crap!!!

OK.

So, I got that off my chest.

Now I'm going to go outside and watch the concrete dry.

i let go of my anger so i can see clearly.