'The Guard'

So, yesterday, as we were working with the carpenter on the bed frame specs, we of course had a visit from the Housemaid.

I forgot to lock the front gate.

I was a little perturbed at myself, to say the least.

She likes to meddle in our financial business and I kept asking her what it was she needed, while at the same time, trying to speak to the carpenter about the bed.

She would keep telling me, "No, finish with him and we'll talk."

Right, so you can find out how much he's charging us and get him to ask for a little more for you?

No thanks.

Seriously, Papi, you need to learn your Spanish so I'm not the only one chatting!!!

Finally, I isolated her downstairs, turned on Google Translate, who happens to be my best friend since arriving here, and began to ask what she specifically needed.

She pulled out a letter from her husband, the Dominican Daddy.

I typed it into the translator and found out some information that scared the hell out of me.

You see, we had 'The Guard' outside our house while the wall was being put up.

I suppose she trusted him to be there, because we were inside and he was just staying outdoors.

I trusted him, because he was the Dominican Daddy's cousin, and thought he was trustworthy if they were telling us to have him work for us.

Anyway, I had asked him to come watch Casa Paraíso while we are at the capitol next week, working on our residency.

Bad move.

First, he came to our house asking for an advance, because he was out of baby formula.

I paid him in advance for one day, then told him I'd pay him for the 2nd day when we returned.

The letter from the Dominican Daddy asked me if what I had paid 'The Guard' was for both days in advance, then went on to explain why he was asking in much more terrifying words.

He explained that even though he is his cousin, that we can't trust him.

The Housemaid then explained he's been in jail for robbery, not to mention is currently being investigated for robbing the last place he worked at as 'security'.

He sets up people for going away, then while they're gone, he and his fellow bandidos rob the person who he is supposed to be 'protecting'.

We've learned it happens a lot here, via the Pool Man and the DR1 Forum.

The Dominican Daddy told us he and his wife, the Housemaid, would watch the place.  I can trust them, as they don't overtly steal.  They just do it in the sneaky way, where they think we're not going to notice.

If they take a little toothpaste, tampons and soap while we're gone, it's much better than our computer, TV et al.  So be it.

Not to mention, he knows he would lose monthly income if he didn't take care of our place.  Plus, I really do believe that even though these two are opportunists, they have our protection in mind.

We told him we'd give him both our guns and asked the Housemaid if she could find a way to tell 'The Guard' we don't need his services.  I asked her to tell him in such a way that won't make us a target for his anger, making us his next victim.

We also asked her to tell him that we'd find another way to have him work off the money we paid him for baby formula.

Or not.

Maybe with a dude that terrifying, we want to just tell him it's a baby shower gift and leave it at that.

He has already begged us for money each and every time he sees us.  It's not like he's going to stop.

How does he think WE responsible for HIM not keeping IT in his pants?

He's not our dependent, yet somehow, he feels that we owe him, just because we're white and don't live in a shack.

Dude.  If you can't be responsible enough, and have 4 babies all over the place, honestly, it's nobody's fault but your own.

Keep your pecker in your pants!

Somehow, we have to keep the guy on our side though.

Maybe formula here and there will buy us some peace?

Or maybe it will set us up for more extortion?

All I know is, I'm a little scared of 'The Guard', and very grateful that the Dominican Daddy is on our side.

i trust in my ability to keep us safe in our future

the wild, wild west

We have clean water!

It's such a sigh of relief!

Seriously.

You just don't know what you've got sometimes.

In Vancouver, an inconvenience would be your water was off, and you didn't get your morning shower.

Then you'd go on Facebook and scream it to the top of the mountains!!!!

Well, when your water is brown from infestation of sewage filth, it's a little more than an inconvenience.

This was not quite as horrible as the sewage flood we had a few years back, because we are still living in a house that is in one piece, with all our belongings.

However, the thought of sponge bathing with my excess water from my reverse osmosis machine for the rest of my life was definitely more than a thought of great inconvenience.

But no more.

We're flushing our toilet and it's clean water.

We're washing our dishes in clean water.

Today, I'm going to shower.

In clean water.

Then!  We're going to fill the pool back up with clean water.

Clean water!!!!!!

We have some really good professionals working on our house now, thanks to the Pool Man.

Who, incidentally is coming by this morning to look at our pool.  We know we're doing things wrong.  We need a little help.  Just putting things on paper will not work for us.  We need some good tutorial.

We also need more tutorial for our gun.  Like how to clean it.

Not to mention, more bullets for the gun.

Someone got shot a week ago, not even half an hour from here.

That's not the scary part.  Shootings happen a lot here.

The scary part is that it was a home invasion with a masked man.  He also shot the dog, but both are alive and healing.

Earlier on that day, the same guy also robbed someone else and shot their dogs dead.

It's us expats and gringos that are the target.

The uber politically correct back home got all uppity because we need security, but the stats have now shown that it's actually more dangerous for expats to live here than in Mexico.

Of course, Mexico is all over the news, because it's so popular and so many Canadians and Americans go there.

However, the murder rate is worse here.

Now, I'm not saying that we're going to be out there with duelling guns and armed warfare back and forth.

Papi and I certainly are not going to be hiding in bushes with camouflage on, waiting to attack.

But I'll tell you one thing, there will be a shot fired in an attempt to deter the person who may have made it past our wall with broken bottles lining the top.

If it doesn't work, I'll gladly hand over all my goodies and retreat.

I think what the scariest part is, is that it happens so often now, that the people on the DR1 Forum seem to talk about it like it were just an every day occurrence.

People aren't even batting an eye now.

That, to me, is the scary part.

That it's become 'normal'.

I suppose the shooting of a bullet off the balcony once a month to remind people we have a gun is a really good idea.

Yup.

The wild, wild west.

One thing that I know though, if I die here in paradise, I did it after I reached a goal in life.

A, 'look at that view' and 'I'm feeling so much less physical pain' goal.

Yet, I will be talking to my angels a lot more now that I know they're listening, in hopes that they'll keep us safe.  They listened with Psycho Kitty!!!  He's much better now!

Oh, but I'm still buying more bullets.

i am drawing from my inner strength and inner light

no bleach for you!

Well, yesterday, I swam in the pool.

'Swam' is kinda my own interpretation of the action, but the point is, I went in and didn't singe from the chemicals, because I am bubble girl.

I didn't dunk myself, because didn't want to get my hair wet.

I just did it yesterday, and it's all about my hair.

I treaded water, floated Papi around like he was a raft and let him lie with his mouth gaping open in relaxation.

I sat on the little custom seats the Pool Man built us, and then BLAMMO!!!!!!  It hit me!!!!!!

I have a new obsession.

Catching things in the net.

Little things.

Tiny leaves, dead bugs, chunks of dirt, you name it, I was in there catching them.

I couldn't relax and enjoy myself, because I was too preoccupied with catching things.

That pool is going to be clean I tell ya.

Because not only was I catching things in the net, but I was engrossingly scrubbing the water line.

Too much dirt.

I know when I want to have a bath, that damn thing better be sparkling, or my body isn't going in.

There won't be much of that here.  We have no bath.

But there is a pool.

I scrubbed, I caught.

I bounced around like a loon.

I saw another thing to catch, I caught.

I saw a spot that could use more scrubbing, I scrubbed.

O.C.D. has it's place in life if it's not ruling your life.

Here's to hoping this is just a phase because it's a new pool.

Otherwise, I may not ever be exercising or relaxing in it.

I'll be cleaning it.

You would never know I have O.C.D. from the state of my house.

Last night, I dreamed that my house was so messy, the Housemaid couldn't clean it.

Which is just a silly dream.

If there's things lying around, she'll either wash them (even if it's silk) or throw it away (like the camera lens cap).

I had to learn a lot of new words really quickly to salvage our items.

Remember that conversation we had about no bleach?  Some way, somehow, one of my remaining T-shirts that didn't get hit on the first round, now has a nice big bleach blotch in it.

It's supposed to be a black shirt.

It WAS one of the last faves that I was so grateful she didn't give the bleach blast to that first week.

Well, she blasted it Friday.

Now I have to talk to her.  Again.

Actually, I'm asking her to remove the bleach from my house.  She can bring it to her house, and never, ever, ever will it be in my house again.  That should take care of it.

It's like taking a Game Boy away from a child.  You're grounded.  No more bleach for you.  Go destroy your own things.

Anyway, we do have a yard keeper, the Dominican Daddy to clean the pool, but he may not have a job there.

It's mine.  All mine.

Don't you touch my net and scrubby thing.  They're mine.

So are the leaves, dirt and bugs.

Except that one that was crawling on my head this morning, so I flicked it off, then it was then crawling on my arm and I couldn't identify it, so I panicked and did the creepy crawly dance while flailing to get it off my arm.

He can have that one.

today i focus on loving myself and trusting the universe

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 

bossy boots in da house!

The pool is being filled with river water!

By tomorrow we should be swimming.  I was hoping for today, as I kinda put my back out yesterday and I'm in a little need of some exercise, pain free floating and fresh blood to pump into the spasm.

I forgot we have a walkway with a step now and I went down jarring my bloody back.

Of course it was because I was distracted.

This damn injured brain can't do two things at once, or there's trouble, and its balance is so horrific that I'm a permadrunk.

I was distracted because was angry about the Housemaid meddling in our business again and telling the workers what we wanted, when we have told her, and them, 20 times what we've wanted.

She wants to keep more of the money she wrangled from us.

Nope.  You steal that amount of money, you're giving us what we paid for.

But she kept on telling the workers, "No door.  Just a concrete wall."

Right.  We just moved to paradise on the ocean to look at a fucking concrete wall.

I don't think so.  We're having our wooden slats in front so that we can still look at the ocean, and that is the last word.

I had to get stern with her and tell her she is not in charge, that she works for me and that if she's going to talk about this, she talks about it with me and nobody else.

Then I had to remind her of our contract of what we agreed upon, and that we WILL be getting what we agreed on.  Period.

This exchange of hardheaded communication was while Papi was yelling at the entire neighbourhood.

You see, we came home from a quick shopping excursion to practically all our neighbours having a party in our yard.

Everyone was hanging out on our deck, sitting in our furniture, hanging out pool side, and kids and dogs were running around the yard.

I have to keep telling the kids to stay away from the pool to set up the ground 'rules', because I'm not being responsible for a drowning accident on my property.

But this was ridiculous.

So, Papi lost it after hearing that the Housemaid was trying to talk to someone in Spanish saying something contrary to what we agreed on.

He yelled at everyone, "If your'e not working get the hell out!  This is our damn home!  This is not a public park!  Go on!  Get the hell out!"

Oh, they didn't understand what he was saying literally, they just knew they should leave, NOW!

From that point forth, the kids stayed on the perimeter and just looked in.

It was then that the Pool Man's wife said, "You're a strong man now.  Now everyone will respect you. You won't have any troubles anymore."

The funniest part was, everyone just went on like nothing happened.

I know that in Canada, if Papi yelled like that, there would be much hostility, glaring of eyes, exchanges of hurtful words and perhaps even a fist fight.

Like I learned from my Spanish teacher back home, it's the way people communicate here.

You fling your arms about and puff yourself up, speaking louder than the one before you, and it's just the way it has to be if you want someone to listen to you.

I have to say, I was a little taken aback, because I'd never seen Papi that angry!

But then, I've never seen myself be so strict with someone who is trying to take advantage of us either.

When the Housemaid and I were finished communicating, I found a place in myself that was stronger than I'd ever seen.

I say that I have to teach the Housemaid how to clean, because from living in a shack her whole life, she doesn't really know what North American clean means.

But honestly, she's training us how to be firm, and the nicest part was, there was no disrespect involved.  It was just hard-nosed heart.

This morning when I let the puppies out to pee, ...

... not that they needed to, the floor was covered in puppy art for me this morning ...

... the workers just waved like they do every morning with a smile.

And you know what?  There were no kids running around our yard.

We're closer to the peace of Casa Paraíso we came for.

That light at the end of the tunnel is shining very brightly as I watch the last of the river water getting poured into our pool, and that damn wooden door is finally getting put up so that I can let the dogs run free.

Shine bright, light.

I can see you now.

i feel good about the way i do my job

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

you don't know me.

Can I tell you how much I hate thieves without being called names for it?

Any colour, age, class, gender, nationality or any other difference someone has from one another, I hate thieves.

To me, 'they' are only one step below a sexual predator.

Yet somehow, Papi and I were called racist because we referred to the thieves here as 'they'.

I'm back in fucking pronoun hell just like I was a few years ago when I struggled with my love going through the male transformation.

I'm so fucking sick of the Vancouverite, uber politically correct people and their finger pointing.

We got nothing but trouble from the 'community' in Vancouver for NOT being perfectly dishonest.  We thought we escaped it by coming here.

Well in the world of social media, 'they' just attacked us on Facebook instead.

We are supposed to keep our mouths shut about everything and anything that we don't like.

If we don't, we're called racist, transphobic, selfish, you fucking name it.

'They' stole from us, the thieves, yet we're called racist for being upset, because 'they' are of colour and from a developing country.

For fucks sakes.  The Pool Man's wife is Dominican and she's the one telling us how almost all the people will scam us here and how we've already been robbed.

Yet we're being racist by calling thieves 'they'.

I came here with so much love.

I poo-poohed anyone who said it's not a good idea give to the people here.

'They', who poo-poohed me, said, "If you give, they'll take too much and rob you."

I didn't believe it.  We wanted to give, give, give.

Give, give, give we did.

We brought gifts and every day we unpacked them we gave it to people we thought would be family.

What did we get for it?  Robbed.  I've now noticed my toiletries have dwindled in only 2 weeks of being here.

I wanted to bring my favourite treats to the people in my village when we got here as a 'hello' and 'thank you for letting me be here in your space'.

Now I won't.  Instead, I'll give my time to an organization where I can leave afterward without anyone knowing where we live.

We have a security guard in which we are overcharged for, but we keep paying it until the pool and walls are done.

Yet still, every time I go out to bring him water, juice, pop, beer, snacks he asks for more money, because he says his baby is starving, then turns around and tells me his baby is drinking lots of milk from the mother.

Sorry, but we are paying you fairly for your job.  We are not stealing from you.  We are giving.  We are not being selfish, but we are not responsible for the well being of every person we know.  We are dependent only upon ourselves.

We really can't afford to pay him, the house maid and gardener and are running out of money, but we hired people because we were told it helps the 'community'.

Yet we're called selfish because we don't want to be broke and living in a shack.

I received a settlement for my motorcycle accident, and we're selfish because we chose to give ourselves a dream life with the money.

Instead, we were basically told we deserve to be robbed because of it.

Let me tell you, if a white, Canadian asshole robs me, I hate them just as much.

Yet because we've come to another country where we're the foreigner, if we vent our feelings about things we worked hard for being stolen, we're called racists and selfish.

One person thought that because 'they' were stealing and are so broke, we should wrap up our things in a gift with a nice big bow, as to say, "Here.  You need this."

To thieves it will say, "Here.  Thank you for stealing from us.  You're welcome to take anything you like because we are just weak, stupid pushovers."

To some people, we're supposed to just take it and give them chance after chance.

I'm sorry, but there are no second chances.  I won't be fooled again.

Today, no matter what the uber politically correct say, I will not allow myself to eat in anger.  That was 2 nights in a row that I used food as a drug to soothe my emotions and both nights wound up nauseas, feeling crappy and having visits from the Anorexia Monster.

Go ahead.  Call me what you want.

I don't fucking care what you think about me and who you think I am.  You have no fucking idea.

I know in my heart I'm a good, generous person who came here with loving intentions and got fucked over for it.

i am aware of my eating habits and how they affect my moods

trust is broken

I couldn't write to you yesterday, because our internet was out in the morning.

Welcome to a developing country!!

So.  What we've now learned is we were overcharged for our wall.

By our house maid.  Who took a cut.

And she is the one who told the authorities to come extort cash from us about our wall, in which she took a cut of also.

This has disheartened me greatly.

Not to mention the fact that I have to rewash every dish she cleans, because they're not up to my cleanliness standards when they still have chunks of food dried on.

I've already had to talk to her about the bleach that ruined the only clothes I brought, all my favourites from Canada, and now I have to talk to her about the dishes.

I'm not paying someone to rinse them off and throw them in the rack.

I can do that, but I won't, because I'm a germaphobe.

Anyway, I now know that I need to be harder and tell her to clean things up to par.

I fucking hate this!  I'm not a 'boss' like that!

Unless, of course, you're on four legs and have an abundance of fur.

However, now I have to be with her.  I can't trust her, and I have to teach her.

Papi goes on to the DR1 Forum and chats with expats there.  They told him we have to train our house maids because they are not very good.

How can she not be?  She has been a maid forever!!!!!

I guess nobody wanted to tell her.

I also noticed that she does the bare minimum and then is 'done'.  She doesn't clean for the 5 hours we hire her for.  She sweeps, throws a mop around, rinses the dishes then does a load of laundry and leaves.

I had to wash the counters off because of the grease that had accumulated over the years that she never properly cleaned.

I'm so frustrated and I don't want to be a 'boss', but we're not paying her for fun people!!!  We're not so rich that we can give money away for free.  We could do without paying someone to be here, but she guilted us in to hiring her when we bought the house!!!

You see, the last people were guilted into hiring her and the people before them were, and so on and so on.

We also learned we have to get her to sign a document stating when she started working, because the other scam is that people will say they've worked for 7 years and sue for severance pay, even if they only worked for a month.

Now that we are learning about how people operate because of the colour of someone's skin, I understand how it becomes 'us' and 'them'.

It's NOT what I wanted.

I wanted to be part of the DR Family.

I wanted to have love from our new neighbours.

I wanted to immerse myself into their 'community'.

I wanted to be accepted for 'me', the loving, giving person.

I don't get to have that.

The Pool Man and his Dominican wife are teaching us all about how people operate their scams, and it has really saddened me.

The Dominican wife told us not to trust her.  That she is the one calling the authorities who extort money from us.

I wanted so bad to believe that she was trust worthy and have faith in her.  I was wrong.

We've been taken.

I didn't want to believe it, until I realized something about the temporary guard we have.

The first day we hired him, she told us he was $1,000 pesos.  The next night when we were going to pay him directly, she told us it's now only $700 pesos.

Why?  Because she took a $300 pesos cut the first night.

She wants us to hire her friends to do 'this' and 'that' all over the place here, even if they don't know how to do it.

No more.

I'm not hiring one more person from her, because I don't need to pay a finder's fee for every job that needs to be done, plus I need the job done by a professional.

Like the Dominican wife says, "They'll never tell you that they can't do a job."

Now, I have to be a 'boss', and I don't like it.

my confidence reigns in any business setting

bribery? how about extortion!

We had the pool people come to start the pool.  I gotta tell ya, I am so enamored by the hard workers here.

They pound that concrete and it just falls to pieces like they were smashing glass.

The wall builders already have the bricks stacked.  When they said a week, they really meant it.

This is nothing like Canada where you'll see one person working and 10 watching to make sure they have work for the next day, racking up the contracting bill as the hours go by.

These folks just get it done.

These men have shoulders and biceps of steel that bulge as they whip around those pickaxes with ease.

Not to mention, when they swing it above the head to come split the grass open, they hit the line designated boundary wish precision.

The line they cut is so perfect, I watch gaping at their handy work as if fine art.

Holy.  If that were Papi or I, there is not a hope in hell it would look like a line.   I can't tell you what it would look like, but it wouldn't be a line.

So, there I was, Boraxing the counters from the years of caked on oil that had accumulated that nobody thought to clean for eons, and I went outside for a break and see what Papi and the Pool Man were talking about.

There in our yard stood a very large man in military uniform with a gun.

I thought he was just here for a visit, or to watch like the rest of the neighbourhood.

Oh, as a sidebar, I found out the majority of the men who come early to 'watch' are indeed here looking for work.  But some are still spectators, as they have no TV and watching a pool and wall be built, is better than looking at the rooster peck the ground.

Oh, speaking of roosters, one guy came with his tucked under his arm as he stood watching the entertainment and his rooster crowed.

Pleased me greatly.

Back to the military man.

Remember I told you yesterday about paying people off?

The flip side is extortion.

Mr. military man was here to say we couldn't build our pool without giving him a kickback.

We were lucky enough that the Pool Man has been here long enough that he talked the guy down from $50,000 pesos to $25,000 pesos, and now we have the green light when we pay the military man off tomorrow.

We were grateful the Pool Man did the talking.  A massive, more than 6 feet tall dude in a military uniform with a gun is NOT someone Papi and I are used to taking on in Canada.  We're used to scrawny junkies and alcoholics as a 'threat'.

Anyway, the work continued after the extortion and then more to keep us laughing erupted.

You see, now that there's no fence, people figure we're public property.

First two pretty girls with pictures came by.  I thought, "Oh, here we go."

They were allowed to actually enter our house by way of our maid, who really doesn't understand that when a local with no money just comes into our house, they're looking at what we have for future opportunistic moments.

Like my fucking mac laptop computer, just sitting there right in the open.

Fuck.

Anyway, they hold up their pictures and begin to tell the sad story about the husband being in jail, and the little toddler that accompanied them needed food.

I had to nicely tell them that we have friends coming to visit and they would be interested, but our house is already full of art.  You could see it was.

They left politely, yet defeatedly, as Papi and I looked at each other with eyes that said, "Holy shit.  Fuck, that was not good."

Not even a few minutes later, a guy carrying his wares came along with food to sell to everyone.

Spectators, workers, they all bought it and the show was instantly transformed into intermission.

Our yard has become the town's, not ours.

When I go out with puppies on leash so they don't escape, all eyes are on me like I'm on my stage again.

I love eyes on me on a stage, but my home?  It's a little unnerving to say the least.

We are not bored.

I can hear them starting out there again today.

Let's see what today's adventure has in store for us.

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