out to pasture

The cows are in abundance.

The thug thinks they're a toy to play with.

It's a little upsetting.

I'm sure the cows are going to win that game.

The fridge ticks and tacks.

Apparently it's 'doing it's job'.

We should have had cabinets built around our inverters.  Now they are water logged because of the ocean air being full of salt water.

We are without power a lot of the day, every day, but after a year, we're starting to get used to it.

"Oh, you should have the same cabinets around your inverters as your neighbours, then you wouldn't have to buy new inverters."

So, you couldn't have told us that before we went into the hole for 2 new ones?

Ya know?

But back to the cows.

I sing a lot of songs about cows.

Not that I put any away in that locker of music to record.

It's just cow songs.

Like a musical.

While on the road.

Because we're always on the road.

And there are always cows.

So, what else would there be to sing about?

Or for that matter, write about.

So, it's only natural that when we're walking the dogs, after the first river, we'll find a pasture of cows.

Then, being the tyrant he is, it's only natural for The Thug to go torment them.

Off runs Papi.

"Run faster!" I scream.  I don't want our neighbours putting a bullet in our dogs.

I don't want our dogs hurting the cows.

I can now see all the cows running away from The Thug.

But what's worse, is now The Donkey thinks it's time to play too.

She's about as tall as a calf.

Earlier that day, there were the puppies.

It's possible we'll take one.

We miss Pathetic Puppy so much.

It's nice that we have her reminders.  Like my fancy wedding purse with a very special chew hole, courtesy of the baby girl.

It's like she came in the form of a cyclone, destroyed everything, then went back to her angels.

We have her reminders.

But we'll never have that little one eye.

We may have a new little girl to make our lives crazy for a while.

One can never have enough crazy.

Except for the fact that I feel so heartbroken that so many hearts have left my life.

I can live without THAT crazy.

But then, I guess they were never really friends to begin with.

I will keep moving forward.

i choose love

with the angels

Her body is gone.

It was not the easiest choice, considering she was only a year old.

She just started being the best guard dog.

But her body had shut down and she stopped eating, yet was vomiting bile.

From the tests Dr. Bob did, he deduced that she only had a few days left, so it seemed like the best idea would be to allow her to go before she wound up suffering.

I cried so hard.  I'm pretty wiped from it.

But I do have to tell you about the people who were there at Dr. Bob's.

It seemed like this girl was a little clueless when she came in.

When she saw that I was in tears, she asked, "Is she OK?"

I told her she wasn't, that she was in renal failure, but I guess she doesn't really grasp what that means.  She replied, "We have some herbs to help that.  We saved a dog from a heart attack with our herbs."

Really?  So, when you saw a dog having a heart attack, did you just run screaming, "This dog is having a heart attack!  Quick!  Grab the herbs!"

Now, I'm all about the natural remedies.  I'll take natural over pharmaceutical any time there's an option.

But renal failure?  Her body had simply shut down and she was delirious, which was why she would just walk somewhere and stare into the nothing-ness.

We had suspected that she was not 'right' for a long time.  As in, since a few months after we rescued her.  We always thought that she was an 'odd' dog.

I can't tell you how many times we've said, "She's not like other dogs."

Dr. Bob's tests didn't show any actual poisoning, but that her body just did this on her own.  Her kidney has been failing for a long time and her body finally gave in.

I would have tried anything if I knew a year ago that her little body wasn't producing like it should.

We just didn't know.

But back to Flower Child.

Her mother was there and Hippy-Dip was telling her mother about a motorcycle accident and how the doctors are making the victim have surgery without pain killers.

I guess this is their first experience with the fact that this country refuses pain killers under every circumstance.  Yes, even surgery.

So, what was the mother's response?!?!?  "Oh, that's horrible!  She needs a new doctor!  I'm going to have to bring her my healing mat!"

Really?!?!?!  What fucking planet did you people come from?!

Oh, but the finale was when Dr. Bob's blood tests proved their dog had tick poisoning, and the girl's response was, "But, he doesn't have ticks!"

That was enough.

Through all my sobbing and dying from grief, I had to retreat outside to be alone and cry without all the stupidity.

Since coming home, I've slept away the tears and The Donkey has been acting out of control.

She also won't stop sniffing Papi's shorts.

It's as if she's saying, "I can smell the death.  Why can I smell the death!"

She keeps walking around searching for Pathetic Puppy.

The Thug is coming for hugs and won't stop talking.  He seems to be saying, "Where's my toy.  I liked that toy."

Jake-a-Like is needy.

Papi and I are so sad.

Her little spirit was more than alive, even if her body had been dying for a long time.

I whispered in her ear to come with me.  That she didn't need that sickly body any more.

That she could still be with us every day.

Amongst the angels.

i let go of sorrow, while holding on to love

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

time warp!

Wow!

All of a sudden it's Tuesday.

I kinda fell into a piano pothole.

I'm working on a piece, transcribing it into Spanish: Tori Amos, 'Winter'.

I have been torn as to whether I should just leave it in English, but I think I've figured out my niche for my piano gigs.

I've started transcribing all my songs into Spanish.

It may take me longer and a little more work, but it will help for both languages.

People know a popular song in English, so they'll be able to enjoy the song in their mind in English, but all the folks here will be able to understand the song in Spanish.

So, that's kinda where I've been for the past few days, because this is a HARD one to work with.

Oh, there are a few other things we've been doing in between hiding in my dungeon.

Fixing parts of the car, and helping sick Fuzzy Family.

The car is mobile now, though I have to slide in from the driver's side to get to my seat when Papi is driving.

It's really classy when you're wearing a skirt.

And it's so nice to have people looking at our car and shaking their head, wondering what the hell happened.

Oh, you know, just my drunk husband texting while driving.  No big deal.

Then there's the sick animals.

The Bastard Prince has some strange inflammation from eating some strange plant that's in season right now.

Apparently, it's like catnip for them and they keep going back for more, but the problem is it creates a bladder issue and he hasn't been able to take care of kitty business for 24 hours.

He's spending the night at the hospital.

Also, the Pathetic Puppy is really living up to her name.

We don't know if she got poisoning from raiding the garbage, or has poisoning from a rat.

Dr. Bob is banking on garbage.  He has seen the end results of other things she's gotten into.

She's like a ninja!  Black as the night so you can't see her slipping into the corners and getting into trouble.

She's been lethargic and hiding under the piano while I play.  She just wants to be left alone.

When Dr. Bob drew her blood, there wasn't too much to take.

It's going to take her a few weeks to get back the blood she's lost from her body trying to fight off the poisoning.

We're going to have to really watch this li'l bugger.

She can barely move right now, and within a week she's lost a lot of weight even though she's been eating, albeit, not as much.

Anyway, back to 'Winter'.

I thought that my bitch of a back was not healing as fast because it happens to be 'winter' here in the Dominican Republic, but I realize now that it's because my ankle has hindered me from exercising.

I've gained weight and that hurts my back as well.  Not to mention, my ankle has put me out of alignment.

I started yoga a few days ago, in between practising.

It's been hurting too much to sit and practise for hours at a time, so I had to start stretching in between, which led to getting back to yoga.

All of a sudden, my ankle is healing faster, I'm sleeping through the night without pain in my back, and lo and behold, I've started to take off the weight.

This is going to take a little while.  I put on so much weight, that a skirt that is normally too loose is too tight to wear.

No problem.  While I work on my piano sets, I'll keep exercising.

It's all coming together.

Now, if we can just get some healthy animals and stay away from Dr. Bob, I might have more time to work on these sets.

I've got 2 weeks to get some serious work done before I go back to Dream Project.

So, no wonder I lost a few days there.

I am a 'tad' busy.

i exercise because it makes me feel good 

hungry?

Dominican dogs are not like Canadian dogs.

They're hunters.

Some are starved and will go after anything to eat.

It's been inbred in them for many generations.

They don't have the pampered lifestyle like we're used to.

Even Pathetic Puppy.

We got her as a baby, but she's still a wild loon in search of crabs, rats, geckos, frogs and anything else she can find to hunt.

She's not too keen on kibble.

She'd probably prefer the rice 'n beans diet most dogs have here.

Then there's Old Ghost Face and The Thug.

They have serious hunting mentality.

Especially when they want to kill the cats.

Which they tried to do the other night.

I was happily working my way through to the Dexter finale, when I heard Papi screaming, then tumbling above my head.

At first I thought it was a plain old dog scrap that we've become accustomed to, and cringed as I assumed Papi would use the greatest technique he's found; The Wheelbarrow.

Simply grab The Thug by the back legs and pull him off.

He can't fight while he's balancing on his front paws.

What I didn't know, was that when Papi tried to pull The Thug off The Mrs., well, Old Ghost Face went in to finish the task.

I could hear the fighting wasn't stopping.

Quickly I knew this wasn't a normal dog fight and my mind jumped straight to envisioning cat intestines strewn across the floor.

When I finally snapped out of the sights that had me frozen, swirling in my head, I hobbled upstairs as fast as I could, creating a lot more pain for my ankle.

When I got to the top of the stairs, all the dogs were outside and Papi was screaming, "It's not good!  It's not good!"

I figured my assumption was right and that I'd walk into a scene straight out of the Dexter show I was just watching.

But instead, I found lamps strewn across the floor, cables in a mess, and a cat in shock.

We thought she had internal bleeding or possibly a broken back, or both.

She wasn't moving.

Through our tears and panic, we called the emergency number for Dr. Bob, who told us to immediately go buy a serum.  "If anything is going to keep her alive through the night, this is it."

The next morning, we reached under the bed and thought she had passed in the night.

She wasn't responding when we touched her, but I got in close enough that could feel her chest cavity moving with her breathing.

I pulled her limp body out from under her hiding place, we brought her in, and were relieved to find that she is merely bruised.

Nothing broken, no internal bleeding, and no neurological damage.

Yes, she is VERY sore, and will take a few days to heal, but he said, "Her fur saved her."

Normally, we shave her, because she's always so hot with that thick, black, Persian fur, but we haven't found an adequate groomer.

Her fur saved her life.

Her fur is her super power.

She still hasn't come out from under the bed since the whole disaster, but she's eating.

This is not the life I thought these cats would have.

I thought they'd be chasing butterflies and geckos, enjoying their new country.

I guess it's just as well.

Here, people eat cats too.

Ours would make a nice meal.

Just ask the dogs.

every day, i learn more

guess what day it is?!??!!?

Papi comes home today.

Not a moment too soon.

There is going to be some serious training.

The Donkey is out of control.

Now she doesn't even bat an eye at having the water squirt her in the face for jumping up on us.

She is massive.

She is strong.

When she jumps on you, she is staring you eye to eye.

You're the same height with an animal that, if she didn't like you, could do some real damage.

She REALLY needs work.

I would love to find someone on the island who could help us.

My regular obedience training I do is just not good enough.

Papi is coming home to trouble.

Papi is coming home to some dogs that don't know how happy they're going to be.

Yeah, they're acting out because I am locked away in my cage.

I don't go outside.

I just tell them I love them through the bars.

I don't open the windows.

I sit at the table yelling at The Donkey to stop beating the shit out of Pathetic Puppy.

I sit and look at the pool, wishing, swearing at my cast, while sweat is dripping from my body because I don't open the windows.

I don't open the windows, because what's the point?

I have to ask for help to close them again before I retreat to my castle tower.

I just can't do it.

So, I lie upstairs with the fan trained on me, while I listen to the dogs beat the shit out of each other, barking.

Going downstairs to eat is too much of a production.

I do the once in the morning for my coffee, because we all know I wouldn't survive without it.

Then I sit there, drinking it, sweating profusely.

I'm not exaggerating.

When those windows are closed in this house, it is a sauna.

I come upstairs and strip my fully soaked clothing, then sit on the edge of the tub to shower what I can with my cast resting on the toilet.

Papi comes home today.

Windows will be open.

Papi comes home today.

Dogs will get attention.

Papi comes home today.

I get love.

Papi comes home today.

i have much to celebrate

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

i'm back!

your sunday sillies ...

Hallelujah I am healed!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, why do we have a guard?

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

It's really creepy being here all alone sometimes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Puppies.  Big puppies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I think the doorbell will conveniently be broken every Sunday.

Maybe I'll put a sign on it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

i embrace the peace and quiet of the night

it is possible!

I'm tired and I want to kill the Fuzzy Family today.

Apparently, so does Old Ghost Face.  We're all a little cranky.

I'm sure it was Pathetic Puppy who tore into the garbage.

The Thug has been hunting cats all night.  That is of course, when he wasn't panting from the heat.

The Donkey has been jumping on to the bed, causing Sir Bark-a-Lot to do what he does best, and Jake-a-Like has been sprawled along my body, making me warmer than I thought possible.

This is the first day here that I can actually say, "I'm too hot."  This will be the first day I'll experience what gratitude for a pool really means.

It's not so much the heat, so much as what comes with it.

Our air conditioner doesn't work when there's not enough city power to juice the batteries.

That means nobody in the village has had any power for a good day and a half.

At least we had enough to run our water.  People in the village have nothing.  It fucking sucks and don't get me started on how the government doesn't care about the people here.

Anyway, it was hot last night, but I don't usually mind the heat.

However, when there's no air conditioner, it means windows are open.

When windows are open it means mosquitos come in looking for snacks.

When they use my body for a meal, I'm up all night scratching.

Every available body part was eaten.

I was ready to tear my skin off last night.

Then, couple that with sweating and bug spray, and you have a sticky mess of dirt that beads and rolls on your skin as you scratch, making it look like you have miniature mouse shit all over your body.

Of course, the mosquitos are NOTHING compared to the ants that bite.

Seriously.  Way to harsh my mellow.

Thought I'd have some wine to help me sleep through the heat, and the ants thought it was a great idea as well!!!

In no time flat, I was flailing from being covered in ants who were biting my hands and arms, and those bitches hurt!!!!!

Then there's the itch that comes with the welts due to their chomping.  It's like the devil himself has crawled under my olive casing, adding salt and vinegar to the wounds.

When the ants nip me, I scratch until I bleed, leaving my derma with great gashes guaranteed to weep with pus later in the day.

These are the kinds of days I wish I didn't have to wear a bra.  A bra in the heat is pure hell.

It's not just the fact that it's tight up against my sweaty skin, but trying to get it on is like a game of twister.

It sticks to my shell before I can get it into place, then trying to adjust it once it's stuck is game of skill.

Forget about trying to get a sports bra on.  That will NEVER happen.  It will just roll along my skin, looking like the world's thinnest tube top.

It's the kind of day where you can shower away the sweat, but once you dry yourself from the shower, it's back in mere seconds.

It could be that I can't handle the heat because I had no sleep last night from the dogs' antics, and Papi up all night trying to get power back on.

That could be why I'm not enjoying this amazingly beautiful day.

Or, it's the fact that the heat has made it hard to sleep, leaving me a bitchy mess.

Today, I made my coffee extra strong.

Not to mention, I don't give a shit what I'm 'supposed to wear' as a white person to keep me safe from predators.

At this point, I'm wearing my fucking tank tops and cool, short, breezy skirts.

I'm bitchy enough that if anyone violates me today I won't have any problem telling them to fuck off.

Even if it's in English.  They'll know what the hell I mean by the nasty look on my face.

Maybe I'll pack my stun gun.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go scratch.

Indeed, it IS possible for ME to be TOO hot.

i sleep soundly and beautifully through the night

the thug.

I was so afraid.

We drove 2 hours to meet the rescue dog and I knew I'd fall in love, but that didn't change the fact that perhaps he could be aggressive toward our others.

He was obviously used as the bait in the dog fights they have here.

The scars.

Oh, the scars.

Hundreds of them and some, really deep.

It's heartbreaking.

When he was dumped at the side of the road, the people who found him rushed him to a vet to take care of the horrifically terrible gouge on his chest.

They kept him in their yard while searching for someone to rescue him and give him the loving home he needs to repair his past.

They weren't taking any chances with their own Fuzzy Family by introducing him to them.

I don't blame them.

However, I suppose the poor thing was just not a very good fighting dog, as they wouldn't have just tossed him and his chain off to the side of the road if the fucktards thought he was worth keeping.

So, that gave me confidence that MAYBE, just maybe The Thug wasn't going to kill our dogs, but you still never know.

We picked up Pathetic Puppy from the AAAS after being sterilized and damn!  The Thug got a woody upon seeing her.

The Thug spent the rest of the ride home wanting desperately to get to the girl in the back.

I sat with her to protect her from the horndog in the front, and held on to his leash in front that was tied up to the holy-fuck-handle.

That damn handle comes in handy for more than just white knuckling it while Papi drives like a lunatic.

Anyway.

I still couldn't be sure if The Thug's pecker hanging out was for excitement of love, or excitement at getting in a fight.

Well, when we got home, we put Pathetic Puppy upstairs for her post-op rest, and released The Thug out to the rest of the hounds.

Unbelievable.

He fit in right away.

Everyone likes him.

Everyone got along.

The Donkey is thoroughly enjoying running around with him and The Thug is thoroughly enjoying marking everything he possibly can.

I hope the hundreds of scars on his head and body fade, as much as I hope his memories of a previous life do the same.

He's quite lovely and cuddly, even though I am definitely allergic to him.

I have welts and hives all over.

That doesn't matter.

Just means I'll have to wash my hands and arms a little more frequently.

Or hop in the ocean.

So far, he's working out just fine, and the AAAS will be PROMPTLY removing his balls tomorrow to dispel his testosterone.

Something else that is working out fine, is having let out my now not so secret secret.

So far, I haven't had too many people tell me I'm doing the worst thing possible.

The shame and embarrassment are pretty hard surrounding this.

Yet, that glass of wine after a long stressful day being lost in the bumpy, dirt roads of the Dominican Republic mountains, with a battered, emotionally damaged dog who would give Dave Batista a run in the ring, was just the thing I needed to defuse the day that never seemed to end.

It truly is all good.

i am supported

it's simple

He is American and talented.

He sang his American national anthem.

From the stands, those who have been taught racism rang out, "BOOOOO!!" because of the colour of his skin.

Why?

Today, important once again to search for simple joy.

Puppy nibbles on toes.

His little body twists and turns with exultation for no reason other than to express his merriment for living.

A walk with Papi and the Fuzzy Family down the beach as we giggle at their antics of jumping in and amongst the waves, rolling, tumbling.

We floated around in the pool, I drinking lime water for my stomach that seems to have come into contact with some bug, from somewhere, Papi drinking soda, of course.

We taught Pathetic Puppy and Jake-a-Like how to swim and exit, so that they could save themselves if they ever fell in to the pool.

This, while The Donkey swam laps around them.

I taught children piano, watching their pride glow as they felt the strength of playing the line right.

One little soul pulled on my heart strings.

We both wore glasses.

She liked mine, I liked hers.

She helped me with my Spanish, I helped her with her staccatos.

I felt connection to her awkwardness, and the wanting so badly to be loved and have approval.

Something as effortless as encouragement in her fledgling musicianship made us both feel strong.

It gave us an acquaintance where nothing mattered for that half hour, but the lesson and sharing the music.

MusicMan gave me a great hug when he saw me yesterday.

He had gratitude for me being there, I had gratitude that he was happy to see me.

Simply joy.

He told me he spoke to the BigWigs and it looks like I'll get paid for my work in September.

I'm already being paid in my heart, but a little reimbursement for my gas will be the cherry on top.

I was tired and weak when I arrived at Dream Project.

I left energized and ready to make more of my day than I had in a few days, from feeling so weighted in my heart.

When I arrived home, The Carpenter followed me in to our driveway with an offer: if I pay for the wood, he will make seats for the children of The Garage Band no charge.

It's happening!

People are starting to help with the children.

I only took the first steps.

But now, I am seeing others follow for their support.

Soon, they'll have a place to sit as they sing.

Simple joy.

This is only the beginning.

I'm so happy for them, and yes, for me.

It means their energetic, wiggly little bodies won't be squirming all over the place.

They'll have somewhere to plant themselves to listen a little better to instructions.

Seats.

Something so uncomplicated, yet another step toward more jubilance, love and gratitude.

It's simple to find, when you focus on the good.

Joy.

i feel good doing things that improve the well being of others

happy anniversary my love

There's supposed to be a tropical storm that could turn into a hurricane.

No, not Hurricane Andréa.

I'm doing fine for a change.

An ACTUAL tropical storm.

Papi has been talking about it for the last week and I just keep rolling my eyes and pooh-pooh-ing him when he mentions it.

One of the perks of living on the North Coast, is we don't get hit by many of the storms.

So, I just keep giggling at him and smiling when he goes on about it.

Then, Jersey Girl wrote me an email giving me all kinds of tips on how to stay safe during the storm that is supposed to hit.

Well, she's been here for a while, so yeah, I'll listen to her.

We scrambled about, bringing in anything that could fly around and take out Pathetic Puppy's other eye,  closed the all the windows, then went to bed.

I got up this morning to a beautiful day.

Sun shining, waves calm, and then with no warning, it all went away and the rain started.

That's one thing that makes me feel at home here.

It's just like Vancouver in the sense that if you don't like the weather, wait 10 minutes and it will turn on a dime.

Only the rain here in the Dominican Republic puts Vancouver to shame, making Vancouver's rain seem like just a spit compared our monsoons.

Anyway, the thunder is rolling in and I love it!

But it meant that I had to come in from the outdoors.

I came in to find a chicken scratch note from my love.

Pathetic Puppy was at it again last night, only in an activity that could have killed her.

The tumultuous cane toad.

She was playing with it.

It could have killed her with it's defence mechanism of spewing poison.

So, my love had to give the baby a poison kit.

Having a gut of steel, this dog can take anything.

She seriously is from hell.

She's a bit like me.

You can't kill me, or her.

In Papi's note, he mentioned it's under a dog bowl by the pool.

Dominican Daddy is here doing his fancy yard work and I told him about the problem, but obviously not knowing the word for 'toad' in Spanish.

So, first thing in the morning, there I was doing charades.

He laughed, then merely lifted the dog bowl Papi had trapped it under and threw it into the ocean, shaking his head at the silly gringa.

We are so not used to this world.

One day, it will be second nature and I'll be tossing out the cane toad without a blink, ready for any tropical storm that threatens us and nobody will laugh at our dramatic ways, because we'll be relaxed.

One day.

Today is not that day.

As I watch the storm roll in, and Dominican Daddy work his magic in the yard, I'm still amazed that we are here.

We're actually here.

And today?

Today is our anniversary.

We were not ready for it, so next weekend we'll be celebrating.

We're going to go see a part of the island that had us dizzy in circles once.

This time, we're going to google it and get there and back without a problem.

We're actually going to have a mini-holiday and see this fine island that is now home.

Happy anniversary, baby.

We did it.

We really, really did it.

my friends do not judge me, nor do they influence what i do with my life

kill them now.

I'm going to lose it with these puppies.

Yesterday, they wreaked havoc.

It wasn't just the 2 whole chicken breasts Pathetic Puppy ate.

No.

Then it was the holes.

Not just any holes.

Holes dug through the ground and under the wall.

I had seen the holes earlier and thought it was the monsoon we experienced earlier in the day.

However, upon answering the door after it chimed, I knew otherwise.

There stood Dominican Daddy with Pathetic Puppy and the Jake-A-Like in hand.

It was clear at that moment that they found their escape.

I showed Dominican Daddy where the holes were and as we were discussing how to fix them, both those little fuckers used their new departure route, leaving the yard once more.

Oh, they were so proud of themselves.

So proud.  The looks on their faces!

"Look what we did, Mom!!!"

Yes.

Indeed.

Look what you did.

Papi finally got up to help me with the vermin and I thought that their destruction may have been done for the day.

That was of course until this morning when I got up to find they had eaten some of the cheese cloth one of my dear sweet friends so generously mailed me.

You can't find cheesecloth on this fucking North side of the country, because people are too poor to buy it.

They just use their hands to do the work.

I had used some of it yesterday to make some mango juice.  Worked great!

I even washed out the cheesecloth to reuse it once more to save them.  I don't want to ever be without them again!

But no, the puppies like cheesecloth too.

They didn't eat it all, but I noticed the opened package was gone and asked Papi if it was true, that the puppies wrecked that as well.

It's true.

I want to kill them.

I want to take them to the sea and let mother nature wash them away.

I want to make puppy stew.

They are demons from hell.

Demons who just gave me the sweetest little kisses that took away all my anger.

How do they do that?

How do they make me love them after I'm ready to drop them off at the doggy shelter?

Today, I'll be buying chicken wire to put in the ground to deter them from digging anymore.

Maybe get some baby locks for the cupboards.

Fuckers.

i refuse to give up because i have not tried all possible ways

rooster.

So early!

I think that people here don't have alarm clocks and they get up when the roosters sing.

I am so not used to this.

When we first got here, I had to be up early for the workers.

Now that I'm teaching music, the classes are early as well, but I'm going to have to be up early to accomplish everything that I've set out to do in a day anyway.

I am busy, and yesterday, Papi and I brought in the Pathetic Puppy to talk about getting her fixed.

While I was there, I asked about getting the AAAS to come to my village and sterilize the dogs here, and when the Canine Quarterback found out where I lived, she responded, "You're in the heartworm capital!!"

She ran back in and grabbed medication for all the dogs she could and came out saying, "You are now the outreach person for Las Canas."

Ok then!  I suppose I am!

It looks like I have another volunteering position.

Oh, I wanted to help here.

I got what I wanted.

Village dogs health.

Village children's choir.

Dream Project, where I have an 8 a.m. start.

Seriously.

That means I have to leave the house at 7:30, but have to get up at 6:45.

This may not mean a lot to you morning people who have been doing this for years, but I am not a morning person and haven't gotten up this early for any reason in a long time.

Even before the motorcycle accident, I worked a day job that ended at midnight.

So, this is hard!

But here's the good part: both times I've gone to work with the music teacher, he's been late.

I sit patiently with all the kids and wait.

We are all there.

Teacher is not.

But nobody is going to fire him, because it's just the way it is here in the Dominican Republic.

Dominican Time.

It's crazy!

To my advantage, when I was trying to get there to see the people, we had no power for 4.5 days, and I didn't get messages that asked me to be there for a certain day.

Then I didn't get phone calls, because the power outage killed my phone.

In Canada, I wouldn't have been considered for this position, because there is no way someone would want a tardy worker, or someone they couldn't contact.

But there I was, both days on time like the good Canadian I am, waiting for the person who's actually getting paid to show up.

Anyway, I had a great day teaching today.  I'm responsible for teaching 2 tiny girls piano.

Then when I was finished teaching today, the MusicMan wanted to play some music with me!

He is a great guitar player.

He would play guitar, I would sing; Police, Bob Marley, Beatles and more, then I played the jazz song on piano that he had given me to learn for the kids, while he would solo.

We played while the children would watch and move to the beat.

It was so much fun!  I have something to add to the New Life List.  Sit around and play music with my new friend.

He has all the contacts I need to start playing with others and for a music studio, albeit it's in the capitol.

I'll have to save that for when I'm ready to record, and for sure, I have enough to do for now.

I will have to get up early to get it all done.

Looks like I need a rooster.

i attract, welcome and accept talented and successful people to my team

i scream, you scream

Oh, how we are armed.

In more ways than one.

Guns, yes.

I even have my cane that has a REALLY sharp, heavy edge to it, plus 2 machetes, a stun gun and a baseball bat.

But mostly, we're thrilled with being girded with baby formula.

Our Fave's Mom sends Little Angel over without anything.

All the time.

No soother.

No food.

No diapers.

So, now that we're finally paid, we went out and got Little Angel some formula, a little bottle and a soother.

Because honestly?

The bellowing yesterday?

Wow.

We were trying to find anything we could do to stop the li'l critter from his caterwaul but someone put his level on to MAX! before dropping him off.

I could distract him for a mere 20 seconds and he'd be off to the races again.

We were worried people would think we were torturing the poor li'l guy.

We even tried to make it fun by trying to take pictures of us aping his face.

See who could get the best 'screaming baby' face on.

Neither of us came close.

Especially with our gaping teeth hanging out.

But now?

We have formula.

Yes!

No more high pitched, wailing babies!

Then there was the screeching dog, in which we needed ammunition for as well.

We didn't need to put it out of its misery, but we needed our guns because all the dogs in the village were going crazy and that usually means trouble is abounding.

So, after our gunshot was let off, as was everyone else's in the village, ...

... it seems someone starts the gun shots and everyone follows ...

... we tracked the sound of the dog yowling to help it.

Papi had initially tried to find the dog the first time, but I suppose it kept quiet out of fear for being so defenceless.

However, 2nd time round, we found it.

Little bugger was stuck in the neighbour's gate and people are so used to dogs making noise, nobody came to it's rescue.

It was stuck just like our demon dog, Pathetic Puppy, will do occasionally.

She knows how to wiggle out, but I know one day, she's going to be even larger, and we'll be doing what the village had to do at 10 pm last night; pull the brat out of the fence.

Oh, but this little fuzzy love was nipping and shrieking, doing everything it could to say, "Back off bitches, I'm tough even though I only look like I'm 4 months old.  I'll CUT you!"

I wasn't going near those choppers.

Seriously.

They were sharp.

But eventually, everyone seeing us with the dog and flashlights, not to mention the siren got louder, everyone came to help, and the bravest dog person saved it.

It was released and back went the village, and us, for some quiet time.

Papi and I looked at each other and said, "What a day of chaos it's been."

Scream day in the hood.

All kinds of fun.

i show every being how much i love them, with all verbal and non-verbal ways i can

if i was a fish.

Time to get crackin' on my Spanish!!

If I learn enough that the people at Dream Project can understand me better, and vice versa, I could possibly have a job teaching music in September.

For a month, I'm going to be the teacher's aid to the man who organizes the Dominican Republic Jazz Festival, in hopes I will learn musical terms in Spanish, so I can work with the kids.

Talk about needing to step it up!  I have 2.5 months to really get going.

One woman working there gave me a really good tip to start me off: read children's books.  Perfect!

They had a free public library there, so I picked a few up and I'll be starting with the Spanish book, "If I Was a Fish."  Awesome!

If I was a fish, I wouldn't need to learn Spanish.

If I was a fish, music would be nothing to me.

If I was a tadpole, I'd be lying belly up in the relief water from our pool.

Papi and I were putting the dreaded chemicals in to clean the cesspool that was greener than my lime tree, when he yelled out, "We have a problem!"

I went to see the matter.

Oh, but did we ever have a dilemma.

Hundreds of tiny tadpoles swimming around in the overflow area of our pool, that looked like sperm looking for an egg to attack.

We were BOTH terrified that they were ALL cane toads, and that we'd have dog killers growing in our back yard.

So, somebody had to do the deed.

I just couldn't do it.

Even though I know a cane toad can kill my dogs, I just can't kill the cane toad.

Papi put the horrid, raunchy chemicals, that make me itch just thinking about them, in the water.

A short while later, there they were, dead.

Only one left with the strength to give a flick of his little tail.

It felt awful, but damn!

Then a short while later, there was the salad I made with the fresh lobster I bought from my Pescado Pal.

I had just put the onions, tomatoes and fish in when I was called out of the kitchen by Mr. Sincere, who was fixing the system to our swamp water people would normally call a pool.

I came back in and there was Pathetic Puppy on the ground, already finished all the lobster, and working on the onions and tomatoes.

Not sure if you know this, but onions can be lethal to dogs.

So never mind the cane toad.

Nope, I almost killed our puppy.

Papi and I panicked like lunatics, googling everything we could find about inducing vomit after ingesting onions and how much to give.

We crammed that hydrogen peroxide down her throat and waited for the puke to arrive.

We waited.

Nothing.

Not only is she demon spawn who destroys all my underwear, bras, papers, cords, reusable shopping bags ...

... oh the list goes on ...

... but she has a stomach of steel.

What dog doesn't puke up hydrogen peroxide?

What dog can eat half an onion and still be running around like a lunatic?!?!?!

Pathetic Puppy.

She is the devil, with an iron gut.  I'm sure SHE wouldn't die from a cane toad.

Anyway, for the time being, if the boss at Dream Project says I'm in, I will be having my transportation paid for to get to the school that is a half hour away, as well as some meals covered and perhaps a little bit to compensate for my time spent eagerly working toward a job.

Hence, I will be fervently practising my Spanish for a while.

If I work hard and all goes well, I will have my first full time job in September.

Life really is moving.

I'm ready, even if those butterflies in my tummy tell me otherwise.

i am confident of my capabilities, expertise and know-how

well, we tried ...

We had a full day off.

Both of us were wiped and wasted, but we had a day to be alone.  We couldn't really go anywhere to do errands, because we have a spare tire on that should be used sparingly until we get a new one today.

At first, I thought our day off would be spent sleeping.  I know that's really what I wanted.  You know when I'm eating chocolate at noon, that all I plan on doing is lying around.

But the puppies were being MORE than rambunctious, so we decided to try them out at the beach.

We haven't up until now, because there needed to be some training in place first, and there hasn't been any 'time' to get them out to the water.

The Donkey and Pathetic Puppy don't have all their shots, but we had to do it anyway.  They were using us as launching pads to attack one another in what seemed like their version of rock star body surfing in a mosh pit.

The waves looked pretty tame compared to most days.  We decided to give them a whirl.  I guess it's true that in May the water calms a bit.

What we realized, is only one of us can go in at a time, because the puppies were all over the map.

I thought they were going to run next door to Haiti, so Papi watched out for them to begin with, walking them further down the beach to tire them out.

I went in the water.  The sand in front of our home is amazing!  No rocks at all!  A couple of little dips in the earth that had me losing my already fragile balance, but nothing major.

Out I went allowing every crash of waves to body slam me, occasionally removing my bikini bra.

Arms raised in a vee, I welcomed the power of the water, and giggled with glee every time one would make an attempt to throw me over.

One did.  The undertow pulled me down before the wave smashed me into the sand, turning me over a few times.

... just roll with it ...

That was a little scary, as I concurred with the vast ocean, "OK, point taken.  That is as far as I go."

I kept it to thigh level from that point on, especially because The Donkey didn't like it that I was in the water.

She didn't want to stick with the pack.  She was too afraid that I was going to die.

She whimpered and cried, swimming out to 'save' me, but it was her I had to be careful of with those undertows.

Papi came back and it was my turn to watch the dogs and allow him his water time.

Kids came to watch us play, so I put the dogs back in the yard because of their limited training.  They still jump and some of those kids are tiny.

Papi and I enjoyed the ocean 'alone', even though people watched us from the shore.

We were together.

Nobody else but waves, because if you talk to anyone in our village, they'll tell you it's MUCH too dangerous and nobody ever goes in the water.

We were playing like children, body surfing the crests, and when there was a calm spurt between the pinnacles of surging water, "Quick!  Float on your back!!"

We decided we wanted some solitude at the house, so I made a sign out of wood that said in Spanish, "Please, do not bother us, thank you."

It didn't work.  Nobody cares.  It's not like that in our village, as boundaries are constantly crossed and people just come on in as they please.  When the door is locked, children run to our beach gate and yell my name, or just stare until I notice them, manipulating me into talking to them.

I was grateful for the gift of fruit The Carpenter brought by, and he felt bad that he didn't see the sign first.  He had called my phone to say he was at our house, then came to the door afterward and apologized upon seeing my wooden appeal.

Then, as Our Favourite came to the gate yelling, I tried to tell him that we wanted alone time.  That we would see our friends tomorrow.

It didn't work.  He came back 4 times and the 4th time it was the whole family including the Little Angel.

I went to our front door, and lovingly as possible, explained that we have people here every day and we just need a day to ourselves.

We were only asking for one day, but the look on their faces was horrifying and I'll have guilt over it for all my days, as I've never set a boundary like that with anyone here.

In 4 months, we haven't had that time alone at our home, but it still felt horrible to ask for one day to ourselves, and really, we didn't get what we asked for anyway.

I suppose if we want true alone time, it will have to be done away from Casa Paraíso, or we'll just have to go play in the waves.

It was easier back home to be in solitude, but still, we're looking for paradise more and more within ourselves and not in our abode of beauty.

Still, we had our day at the beach.

i give up the right to criticize myself

change.

There's a chorus of dogs out there.

Dogs on the beach.  Dogs in my yard.  Dogs in the hood.  All of them barking at the same time.

To me, it's a beautiful sound.  Perhaps to others, it's not quite how they would choose to have their sound space invaded.

The Donkey is swimming in the pool, so the iron gate is firmly affixed, keeping her from bounding in and flailing her body around the kitchen spreading water everywhere.

Problem is, Pathetic Puppy is getting too big to fit through the spaces, but when that iron gate is closed, she keeps trying.

I envision the day she will be stuck in the gate and we'll be left trying to figure out how to get her out of the mess.

However, she is the most horrible puppy on the planet and will inevitably try again.

Oh, what trouble she is, as are the workers.

I am grateful that Dominican Daddy is here to tend to the garden, as they've started on the last phase of the renos.

We need a proper carport to protect the vehicle from the ocean air, eroding the car faster than our window hinges, and we need the casita to give us a space for something, anything.  Right now it's useless, as it only holds animal cages, drying used ziplock bags and suitcases.

Anyway, both of these spaces are where all my fruit trees are.

I'm so terrified that the workers will destroy everything.

The construction workers here are very much like those at home, and, I'm assuming, like those around the world.

Why are construction workers so damn destructive?  They come in like a tsunami, and anything in their path is wiped out.

They don't care about the plants, as they toss their tools, unnecessary wood, concrete and nails into them, not to mention, just trod upon then when they need.

Why?  What is this phenomenon of construction workers?

They're so good at building, but do they need the balance of destruction to keep them feeling symmetry?

If you're reading this and you're a construction worker, maybe you could enlighten me.

Maybe I'll ask my baby sister's husband as well.

Anyway, Dominican Daddy is trying to move 6 trees fast enough for these folks not to destroy them.

My most prized possession?  My mango tree.

I see new buds!!!!!  I just got her happy and healthy and she's going to have to move again.  Poor soul.

I hope this doesn't destroy my option for mangos in the fall.  After a 2nd move like this, I may have to wait until next season.

But you know what?  Trees are not the only ones who don't like change; neither do we humans.

After crying on my Plumber Friend's shoulder yesterday, I had enough Spanish to adequately talk out my issues, even if it was part speaking, part thinking.

Later, talking it out with my Eternal Friend on our quick computer texts, she was able to allow me to talk it out to pinpoint how I need to conquer these drastic ups and downs of emotions of this grand move and gargantuan changes.

When I was in Vancouver, I knew how to make myself happy; go for coffee with a friend, hop on over to the gym, grab some really healthy comfort food, find someone spiritual to lead me, or make some music.

The list goes on, but I don't have all those options here.  I'm very limited.  So I need to change what makes me happy.  I have to find new ways to enjoy my life.

There is good out there, we just have to have enough time to find it, then enjoy it.

We found the first thing; a once a week trip to Sosúa Beach.

We're depressed until we leave the house.

Once we're out of the house, we stop fighting, we start smiling and our negativity seems lighter.

I truly hope that one day it will be the other way around.

Maybe, one day, coming home will bring us happiness and we won't want to run.

Speaking of running, workers are calling.

And off I go.

hardship helps me grow into a stronger person

Gratitude List, Day 9/10
1. I am grateful for electricity so I can have internet to talk to friends.
2. I am grateful for water, so I can be clean and healthy.
3. I am grateful for the puppies to make me laugh.
4. I am grateful for patience for the puppies.
5. I am grateful for the good people here who listen to my problems, when they already have their own.
6. I am grateful for the support of friends who have done what I'm doing.
7. I am grateful for my beautiful home.
8. I am grateful for fruit trees to distract me with their beauty.
9. I am grateful for this gratitude list to help me through the bumps.
10. I am grateful for my stubborn persistence to make myself happy.

we all fall down ...

It was Papi's turn last night.

The pain of feeling he 'left G'ma behind' is taking it's toll.

Things like this usually happen when we grieve.

Grief tends to bring everything else boiling to the surface, granting us two options: 1) scrape the scum from atop, or 2) stir it back in and eat the filth once more.

I feel very grateful that I'm able to have a visit from the deceased Fuzzy Family member when they go.

It immediately releases my pain to see them so happy.

However, Papi doesn't have that luxury.

So he grieves.

True to any active addict/alcoholic, he needs to escape.

I have to make a choice; either live with him drinking alcohol and possibly killing himself, or live with him taking clonazepam and speaking with the junkie drawl.

I choose clonazepam.

At least he doesn't pass out into oblivion like when he's drinking.

Regardless, at this point in his life, he needs escape.

We decided that he would go home early to be with G'ma.

He was supposed to go for 10 days in August, but the need is too strong right now.

We're going to book his ticket as soon as we are able to so, I suppose in May.

I will be alone for a while.

A few months perhaps.

I have Our Fave's Mom and her security guard husband, the Housemaid, the Dominican Daddy and a couple of neighbours to watch over me, not to mention a handful of men whom I could call and they'd be here in a second to help.

They always tell me they would be here if anything happened.  Just call.

I have 2 guns, a machete and a bat.

I also have 2 dogs that would fight to the death to protect me.

3 more that would just run around barking.

Oh, who am I kidding.  Sir Bark-A-Lot would bite them.  I've seen him give a groomer a split lip worthy of stitches, because the dude wouldn't listen to us when we said, "Please muzzle him, he bites."

"Oh, no, that's ok," he laughed, looking at the small creature that couldn't possibly do any damage.

OK.

So, I have 3 that would fight.

I guess the Pathetic Puppy would get in there too.  She loves me.

And I suppose the Jake-a-Like would do his best.

Anyway, I'm going to be alone.

I'm going to have to ask people to take their holiday here.  Please come visit me if you can afford it?  Please come be my other human in the house.

I'll lend you a gun.

The big one.

I like the 9 mm.  She's the one I can handle and I'm not afraid to use her.

Papi might be gone for about 3 months.

He's worried about me.

I just want him to be ok.

I will do anything to have him well again, and if this helps ease his guilt, so be it.

I would do anything to see him the way he was before the motorcycle accident.

It changed both of us.

I guess I can't ask him to be the same person, just the same as I will never be that girl I was prior, but I can ask the angels to help him be well emotionally.

That's really all I want.

I would sacrifice all to have that for him.

All.

Including being alone in a dangerous country.

i stand firmly in my powerful, positive self-esteem

Gratitude List Day 2/10
1. I am grateful Papi is looking for a solution to relieve his guilt.
2. I am grateful I have people physically around me who would protect me.
3. I am grateful for the friends back home who support me, even when I fall.
4. I am grateful for Prozac.
5. I am grateful to wake to the world's best coffee every morning.
6. I am grateful to be feeling more like myself, and stronger.
7. I am grateful for the angels helping me when I need it.
8. I am grateful for the gift Our Fave's Mom gave us.  They have nothing, yet they gave us a gift to show their appreciation of us.
9. I am grateful to be living in a climate that eases my physical pain.
10. I am grateful I have things to be grateful for.