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

naked.

Favourite top, eaten.

Razor, chewed upon.

Holes, dug.

I put chicken wire down on their favourite digging zones to dissuade them, after getting so angry at them for ruining a top I'd worn only twice, not to mention, everything else they got into yesterday.

None-the-less, we prepared for a walk down the beach.

But then the issue happened; Sir Bark-A-Lot got his little toe twisted and stuck in the wire.

He ripped his toenail right out of his toe!

Blood!  Screaming!  Papi and I panicking!

We cleaned him up and left him behind to lick his wound, while we took the rest of the cretin for their run about.

Jersey Girl saw me and invited me for a visit afterward.

Sounded like a great idea!  I needed to just not be around all the animals for a little while.

Upon returning from our little visit of chit-chat, I was full of sand from walking on the beach, and dogs jumping all over me.

I tried to run a shower.  No fucking water.

No problem.  We have a pool and I'll just dip myself in there and rinse all the sand off.

A quick skinny dip.

I mean, I didn't want to get my hair wet or anything.  Just a dip.

I brought my towel, and in all my nakedness, looked at the gate in front.

Seems the coast was clear.

I can run to the pool without anyone seeing me and once I'm in, we're high enough that anyone walking by won't see me in my birthday suit.

I got in and sat on the stair, and began to pool bathe.

Then I heard it.

The Guards next door were up on their wall peering in at me with no clothes on, excited about their show!

I immediately shrunk into the water and tried to hide what I could.

Fine.  The rest of their show would only be a view of my bare ass.  That's all.

I called to Papi, asking for help, or even suggestions as to how to escape this dilemma.

Neither of us wanted to say anything.

Papi didn't want to, because they have machine guns.

I didn't want to, because I didn't want it to turn into a game for them, prompting them to believe I was naked just for them.

I wanted to tell them to turn around while I got out, but thought they would just laugh at me, thinking I was playing around.

I was only grateful that the pool light wasn't on for them to see every little bit I've got!

As the sun sank further, I waited for them to lose interest, all the while, I hadn't moved from that spot.

They must get bored at some point if I wasn't going to give them a show, right?!?!

The moment they looked away, I grabbed my towel, jumped out and ran inside.

Only problem is, for someone with P.T.S.D., it will now create a fear of always thinking I have stalkers again.

I will be constantly looking out doors and windows to see if men are staring in, looking for another show.

Fuck!

Not to mention, I have to drive past them every day on my way to teach.

I suppose those tinted windows will come in handy for a little while, as I calm down from the fear of 'worst case scenario' looping in my mind.

I don't want to encourage anyone.  There are enough people getting raped here without the incentive of being in a pool naked.

When I got up this morning, I heard the dogs barking off the balcony.  Sure enough, I looked out to see them watching our yard again for another show.

Looks like I'll have work to do with my P.T.S.D.

there is a great reason that this is unfolding before me now

donkey. you dog me.

Oh, The Donkey.

So many antics from one canine being.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quite literally.

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

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

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

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

On the main street.

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

Or cat.

Or horse.

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

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

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

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

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

Back to The Donkey.

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

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

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

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

Well, TRIED to go back to sleep.

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

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

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

This time, The Donkey is on the floor.

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

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

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

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

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

My earplugs are firmly placed in both ears.

life is a joy filled with delightful surprises

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.

The Vacation - Part 5, The Big Ending

It was time to drive home, after spending 3 days in the capitol, and finally feeling like I'd forgiven Papi for drinking, albeit, not trusting that it wouldn't happen again.

You can never trust an active alcoholic to tell you the truth.  That trust is built with time.

Upon leaving the hotel, we were told of a new route.

It was a new road that was straight, safe and not many people traveled, so not many chances of an accident.

It was barren alright.  It had us worried about the possibility of breaking down, as there wasn't a store, a person, nor any help anywhere.

We had a little anxiety about cars breaking down since we traded in the jalopy, even though this newer car worked well.  We were still gun shy.

At the first of 3 toll booths, we found the ONLY gas station on the highway.  We filled our tank full, and at that same time, I also filled up on the best tasting ribs I'd ever experienced.

When I'm nervous, I gorge.

Oh, I ate those scrumptious delicacies and even shared a little with Sir Bark-A-Lot, forcing us to suffer the wrath of his bowels assaulting us with his stench 30 minutes later.

After a few hours, we got to the end of the stretch of highway with not a soul in sight, but then had the daunting task of finding our way home.

We were hours away.

We didn't take the turn off we needed, because true to any developing country, most people driving know the roads and know which donkey to turn left at, hence there are no signs.

We were now driving for another hour, realizing we were probably lost.

Stopping at a gas station to fill up again, we had hopes that the guy could tell us how to get home.  It seemed like we had someone who knew what he was talking about.

He told us to go back the way we came and take the Las Terrenas exit.

We found it, then realized all roads led us to nowhere, in circles, winding back up where we started from, further from our house.

We decided that the guy obviously didn't know what he was talking about and headed back toward him to pass him by and carry on for a while.  It was now 2 in the morning as we passed familiar landmarks we had already seen, but we needed to find someone to help us.

Papi was way too tired, and needed me to drive.  No problem.  There doesn't seem to be anyone who will stop me to check if I have a license.

We wound up in a city called Samaná.  It was a mind fuck.  Every street was a circle and we couldn't get out.

We kept winding up in the same place we started, just like in Las Terrenas, even though we tried every avenue we could find.  The only one left was the one we came in on, and that wasn't an option.  We weren't driving 5 hours back to the capitol.

There were some people drinking at the side of the road, and I did my best, 'I'm tough don't fuck with me, but I need your help' attitude.

They were indeed good people and we followed them as they drove their motorcycle out of the city to help us leave.  Again, we were heading back to the capitol, but with a switch.

We had to turn off at a city called Nagua.  Oh, I drove.  For another hour.

By the time we reached this city, Papi had been snoring for at least 30 minutes, and the car started to overheat.  As it just reached red, I put the car into neutral, hazard lights on and coasted for a while.

It seemed to do the trick.  The arm lowered.  But I was scared shitless that we were going to be stuck, and had I started to get bleary eyed and tired, so I woke Papi.

"Can you drive?  I'm starting to fall asleep at the wheel."

It was 4 a.m. when he looked at his watch, slurring tired words, "Pull over, we're sleeping at the side of the road."

We've been told NEVER to do this, but what was our option?  To fall asleep at the wheel and kill ourselves?  At this point, we'd been driving for about 9 hours and didn't care if someone robbed and beat us.  We just needed to sleep.

We found a nice little graveyard and across the street was a gate that looked like it belonged to people with money.

They would understand two gringos passed out in their driveway, I'm sure.

6:30 a.m. came, I woke up with neck and back pain from hell, then looked behind our car, noticing that the gate was open, and the owners allowed us to keep sleeping.  We definitely chose the right house.

We actually made it home an hour later to the Dominican Daddy and the Housemaid both petrified as to what had happened to us, both wide awake waiting for us to return and release them from their job of protecting Casa Paraíso.

Return we did.

From now on, we take The Moca, even if it is the most terrifyingly treacherous road in the country.

We need a vacation from our mini-vacation, but true to our adventure here, that is not going to happen.

i follow my dreams no matter what

The Vacation - Part 4

This was my opportunity to replace all the clothes that the Housemaid destroyed.

I needed pants, shorts, shirts and definitely needed new shoes.

Not that the Housemaid destroyed my shoes.

It is just that I only have one pair of flip flops and a 2nd pair of fancy little forest green sandals that will only go with about 2 outfits.

What I need is a sturdy pair of walking sandals.

Leather, with a durable walking sole.

We actually asked for directions this time and guess what?  It only took us 20 minutes to get to the mall.

This was going to be a dream!

We brought along Sir Bark-A-Lot, because we didn't want to leave him in the hotel room.

This is where the trouble started.

We knew that Sir Bark-A-Lot's carrying case was broken, but we didn't expect him to try to escape consistently.

When people would see the little case jerking back and forth, they'd ask us if there was a dog in there.  We admitted it, thinking about all the restaurants in our area that allowed dogs to freely walk around, so why wouldn't a mall?

Besides, he was in a carrying case and couldn't destroy anything around him.

It wasn't allowed in the Argon mall.  The capitol was more like Vancouver with it's rules and regulations.

We were told we'd be kicked out if security saw him.

So, now it was a race against time to get everything we needed without getting caught with the dog.  We couldn't put him in the car.  He would die from heat.

We had to separate, and store by store we ran around with panic, looking for the items we needed.

Then I got the phone call from Papi, "They saw him and they're making me leave the mall now.  But they're making me leave at a different exit, and I don't know where the car is!!!"

THIS was where the adventure began.

We now own a car that looks like every single other car out there.  Not to mention, it's so new that we didn't remember our license plate number.

We couldn't remember our floor or how to get to it, and this truly was a large mall, being one of the biggest in the capitol.

As much as security wanted us out, we also needed their help.  Every exit, we told each guard what our car looked like and that the only distinguishing marks were that it had a tiny sticker on the back window of a hand and a cracked front windshield.

Oh, also that the license plate had three 9's in it.

They said they found it, but when we went to see 'our car', it of course was a different car of the same make and colour, with a few 9's in the plate.

For two hours, we came in and out of exits, with security shaking their heads at us, some shaking for 'no' we couldn't go into the mall with the dog and others with 'wtf' is the matter with you two?  Why can't you find your car?!?!

At the end of two hours, it was close to the mall's closing time and close to our tipping point, and Papi had an idea.

"Let's hire a taxi to drive us around the parking lot until we find our car.  I don't care how much it costs."

So, off we went to the front door, found our help and put all our items in his trunk.

He drove us to the entrance we came in, in hopes that it would spark memory as to where we parked.

Amazing.

Within one turn in the mall, we found our car and almost kissed the guy.  Papi tipped him big time.

Then the security guard who was standing by our car told us he remembered us and if we had've come out that ONE door, he would have shown us where our car was.

I guess it was the ONLY door we didn't manage to leave through, because we sure as hell tried every other one.

But we left with a few items and decided the next day we'd return with a better dog concealer.  There was still so much more we needed and it was our only opportunity to shop, being that we are not able to find the time to leave our house with all the repairs we need to be done.

We did return the next day, bought a better carrier, and then it was time to get home.

Another adventure ensued.

This time, in the dark streets of the Dominican Republic, with absolutely no idea where we were going.

But at least we had our car and a full tank of gas.

i kindly ask for help and guidance if i cannot see a better way

The Vacation - Part 1

I can't tell you how hard that first day was.

Nothing like being stuck in a car with someone who has just ripped your heart out, and knowing that you have to spend at least 3 hours in the car with them.

True to my suicidal nature, I was not mentally well.

I don't know that I would ever take my own life, but I'll tell you, I will beg the angels to do it for me.

Every car that Papi passed on the left, I would say to the angels, "Do it now while there's a car coming at us.  Head on collision.  Take us out together.  We're both suffering."

We could go together and live in a place where the pain would stop.

I didn't wear my seatbelt, because I thought for sure I could will an oncoming semi-trailer to do us in.

When Papi finally asked me why I'm not wearing it, I was honest, "If I get into another accident, I don't want to suffer through the pain again.  I just want to die in an instant.  I want this all to end."

Let it be known that when Papi relapses, we both suffer.

He has to live with the pain of a spouse who becomes suicidal.

I've lived with way too many alcoholics and drug addicts to know that this disease doesn't allow for love.

It robs all inklings of love.  I can't lose my soul mate to this.  Losing Papi to alcohol would be the final straw of my life, that seems to have so much goodness, but seems to be balanced out with so much pain at the same time.

He begged me, "Please, I don't want you to be unhappy.  I don't want to drink anymore."

"But you will.  You can't help it.  You're an alcoholic."

In frustration, mi esposo replied, "Can you just trust that I won't drink during this trip to the capitol?  You can go back to not trusting me after, but we're going for a mini-vacation.  Let's try to enjoy it and you can hate me when we get home."

He didn't get it.  "I don't hate you.  I couldn't ever.  I don't think you have any idea how much I love you.  But how do you expect me to just 'let this go'?"

I couldn't.  I didn't.

Until we actually hit the city.

We had pulled over so I could drive for part of the highway, while Papi slept off the effects of the alcohol the night before.  It was getting too dangerous for his bleary eyes to keep looking at the road, and besides, it was a really good highway with very few insane drivers.

That was of course, until we hit Santo Domingo.

I was slapping Papi in the leg, pushing him, as I begged him to wake up.  "We're here!  This is it!!"

He told me to pull over, but I decided that I'd had enough stress and wanted to drive myself, so that I know what's around me and I was in control.

I haven't had enough control over the the past few days.

So, no, I would drive.

I scared the shit out him as I found my place in 4 lanes of traffic where there were no lines, nor were there any rules.

I cut off people without a care in the world.

... hit me ... go ahead ... i don't fucking care anymore ...

But somehow, while being scared shitless in this driving chaos, I managed to get us to the malecon.

Then Papi had enough.  "Pull over.  I can't take it anymore.  You're going to give me a heart attack."

So, I did.  Then all of a sudden I noticed that the traffic was calm.  There were no more crazy drivers.

While we drove along side the beautiful Caribbean Sea in awe of it's beauty, we were actually talking for the first time since his drunkfest the night before.

We arrived at the hotel, illegally snuck in Sir Bark-A-Lot, who doesn't make a peep when he's in his carrying bag, and up to the hotel room we went.

This is when the adventure really began.

A trip to Ikea was in order to finally get our bedroom suite started.  The day was not over yet.

This little trip took us to adventure, where our Vacation began, and our communication followed suit.

It was at that point that I apologized to the angels for asking them to wipe me off the planet.

I felt bad that I had asked them to help me die, after all the love they'd given me.

I've had suicidal thoughts since I was a child, but this was the first time I had ever apologized for them.

I do want to live, but I'm so tired and all I want is for my emotional pain to stop.

i love and honour myself

the circus is in town

NOW we are in for some work.

If we thought that dealing with repairs nonstop and thieving maids was work, we were sorely mistaken.

We went to pick up the mama from AAAS, but when we arrived, the Canine Quarterback told us that she had many emails of discussion about our rat bastard chihuahua, Sir Bark-A-Lot, and how he may be lunch for the girl.

This is because he's an asshole, and she may not be able to deal with him.

So, we were told about a rottweiler who needs rescuing and the Canine Quarterback made a phone call to go see if we could visit her and say hi.  AKA, bring her home.

While we were waiting for her to make that call, we walked around and looked at more dogs.

We found a big boy barker and he struck us as a fantastic guard dog.

And cute too!

We kinda fell in love.

The call was made, we were hailed to the front of the property, we waded through gads of needy dogs, then off we went to see the rottie stray.

She is in really bad shape.  Obviously abused, definitely used for breeding and a hole in her back from where worms had eaten in.  Not to mention, her Ghost Face tells us she's about 100 years old.

Of course we were taking her home!  The guy who found her was keeping her in a tiny utility room and feeding her Alpo and some kibble that looked like Fruit Loops.

She needs us.

We packed her into our Dominican SUV, then headed back to drop off the Canine Quarterback.  Yet, someway, somehow en route, we both just blurted out that we wanted the other one too.

Now the other one.  Here's where it really gets interesting.

When we brought him home, we found out that he has a really high prey drive, and the prey was our cats and Sir Bark-A-Lot.

Basically, anything that ran.  And his objective is to MAKE them run.  He was pretty scary how he lunged at the cats.

He is really good with the puppies, but only because they know he's trouble and have instantly bottomed to him the moment he came in.

Belly up, head down.

I've spoken to someone regarding help I need for the dog to train him, and I'm just waiting for her infinite wisdom to be returned to me.

I've read enough internet pages to get me started.

Oddly enough, the least amount of information I got was from Cesar Millan, The Dog Whisperer.  All his clips for training were really for the basics, but I emailed him anyway.

I've learned many things that tell me we are in for some work.  Some non-stop, 24-7 work.

The old rottie cross is still hiding in the corner of the property and won't even eat in front of us.  She's so scared.  I've never been in the presence of a dog so terrified.

Psycho Kitty is looking rough again and the puppies have their noses out of joint, because the focus isn't on them.

The chihuahua has met his alpha match.  I've actually never seen him run and squeal like a piglet before.

Too bad we're too busy to film.  THIS is when we need a film crew following us.

And today, we have the contract and buy out ready for the Housemaid.

Today will be a day to write home about.

Not to mention, I had to put a sweater on!  OH!  The horrors!

i succeed with ease

let the chaos begin

The 2nd puppy has arrived!!

I'd love to take pictures of her, but damnit if Papi hasn't hidden the camera on the bandidos.

Or perhaps, me?  Always when I bring it out, I hear, "No, not right now."

Yes, Papi!  People want to see our chaos and I have more YouTube shows to make!!!

Anyway, she's going to be an ugly little girl, but that's the way we want her.  She's short one eye, has a huge scar on her head and an unattractive underbite.

We have NO idea what she's made of, only that she has black lab in there somewhere.

Man what a cutie though!!!  So damn sweet!

But I'll be lucky if this blog gets written within 4 hours.

You can call me Cinderella, because I'm mopping the floors more than I ever have in my life, and between mopping and running to the john, I'm a little short on time.

She's a good girl, but so little at only 8 weeks that she couldn't get off the bed last night and peed on it.  Which didn't upset me so much, considering we're getting rid of it.

But how grateful am I to have a 2nd one?!?  She won't be coming on this one that's for sure.

The humping has ceased for me since I showed my alpha, but not for Papi.  He just can't bring himself to do it.

Yet, there is no humping of the new puppy, because now SHE is humping the Jake-A-Like.

There is going to be so much puppy safing in the house.  The litter box is her favourite thing right now.

Not to mention, we can't let them run in the yard, because the fence is being built, so there's nothing to keep them in, so there's not much time to get her outside in time for accidents.

Wow, these people mean business!  I've never seen anything like it!

Here's the problem though; no fence = easy access for bandidos.

Our DR Family instructed us to get a guard.  More precisely, a body-guard.  The Dominican Daddy has a cousin that is about 10 feet tall and missing a few teeth.

He came and stayed outside on our hammock last night.  He looked like a scary amazon, but upon meeting him, he was really just a gentle giant.  However, being as massive as he is, nobody was going to mess with him.

Anyway, yesterday when I got up, I thought all the people who were here were actually here to work on the wall.  I realized in the afternoon that there were more spectators than workers.

Casa Paraíso drew a crowd.

When I brought the babies out for an attempt at potty training this morning ...

... excuse me for a moment while i go pry kitty-roca from the puppies mouth and move the litter box to a higher level ...

... the crowd was already starting to form.  It was 7am people!!!

I guess their roosters woke them and the decided to get front row seats.

... excuse me while i pry the puppy pee training pad out of BOTH of their mouths ...

It was still a little dark outside, which made me a bit nervous, so I didn't stick around long enough for them to get the poop out.

No matter.  They both found a nice spot on the floor in the kitchen to take care of business.

Both puppies are having so much fun, and I'm so grateful.

So is Sir Bark-A-Lot.  He's not so cool with the new arrangement.  He's looking a bit like Cujo these days.

The good news is I'm eating, because I decided there's no point trying to stop the nastiness, and starving wasn't working.  So now I have energy to run to the can.

More good new is I found my Prozac.  No need to worry about Hurricane Andréa showing up anymore.

The best good news is our stove is fixed!!!  We now have 4 burners, as opposed to one that we had to light with a match.  They all work with the flick of a switch.

Tonight I'm going to make a meal for Papi and I.

Probably only pasta with meat sauce again, considering we haven't found much more in terms of ingredients to cook with.  We'll have to go into the big city to find more staples.

Besides, we don't really have time to investigate food, because there's always so much more to do.

Like fix a flat on a tire.  That was nice for Papi to have to deal with yesterday.

Now I know why there's a tire store on every corner instead of Starbuck's.

all the things i want and need come to me

Reality Show Super-Fail!

So, I'm new to this YouTube world.

I uploaded one movie of The Golden and it worked well, so I thought I'd be in clear sailing to try my hand at finishing my amateur Reality Show and throwing it up on to the web for you.

Of course, being a perfectionist, I wanted it to be the best!  HD baby!!

That's why I got this fancy computer!  So I could make these amateur shows!  Why wouldn't I want them to be PERFECT?!?!?

It took 2 hours to download to my harddrive, so I thought, well, we'll be at about that for the upload to YouTube.

The next morning I got to work uploading and realized, this may take more than 2 hours.

All day long I checked it and it was at a snail's pace.  It felt like watching water boil.

I started at 9am in the morning, and when it was 'done' uploading it was 10:30pm.

I was ecstatic!  I was going to be able to show you my first amateur show!

Then it told me it had to process.

I waited and waited.

Then it told me it was taking longer than expected and that it was in queue.

Then, the moment it was done processing, it was like there was confetti in the room!  So exciting!

Only to be squashed a second later by the YouTube Yankees telling me it was too long and that if I wanted to upload a long movie, I would have to give them my phone number.

That sounds like extortion to me!

But I did it anyway, because I want so badly to put it up.  Kinda like how we just found out yesterday, that we'd been taken by the DR Family, in that they told us we needed to pay off the authorities to bribe them to let us put up a wall.

We wanted our security wall so badly, we did it.  Now we're going to be a little more leery.  Fuckers.  They got us.

Anyway, I found out from someone a little later on Facebook, that the reason the clip took all day was because it was in HD.

I had to dumb it down a bit.  Last night I downloaded it on to my harddrive in mv4.  Lo and behold, it took minutes, not hours.

Then as soon as I was able to get off the toilet and get more water and lime into my ailing stomach that just isn't letting up, I decided to upload and see what happened.

It's only been an hour and it's already at 30%.  I'm trying hard not to get my hopes up that I might have this down!

So, I'm waiting patiently, and if it doesn't work, I'll chop it into the 15 minutes necessary to please the YouTube Yankees.

In the meantime, I'm warding off the new chihuahua puppy who's nickname was donned to him last night.

Jake-a-Like.

He's very similar looking to The Galloping Gazelle, but orange and even more of a puppy.

Well, he's been sooooooo sick and we've been giving him medicine since yesterday and he's starting to feel better.

Better enough that he's decided that he'd like to hump my arm.

At first, I thought he was just trying to get a better grip in order to get more traction to puncture my skin with his tiny razor blade teeth.

Then it came.

The hump.

In my full dog training alpha mode, I had to make sure he understood that I am not to be humped, but to be obeyed.

I hate that part of having a puppy.  I just want it to be all rainbows and sunny skies, giggles and whisker tickles.

Instead, I'm feeling like Sir Bark-a-Lot, in that he has had to pin the little guy down a FEW times now to show him who's boss.

Well, tomorrow, we pick up another puppy.  This will give him something to hump, bite and dominate.

And perhaps, a little more chaos?

i attempt all - not only 'some' - possible ways to get unstuck

Paradise? Well ...

Too much has happened, so I don't even know where to begin to tell you.

Let's start with the fact that I'm writing this from the shitter, because I can't leave the bathroom due to my travellers squirts.

I'm so sick.  This happens every time, no matter how much black walnut tincture I take in.

We have a new chihuahua puppy for Sir Bark-A-Lot.  He's just as sick as I am and as uncomfortable as Psycho Kitty.

Psycho Kitty had to have dental surgery yesterday because his tooth rotted out and got infected as we were travelling.

We've also decided to take on a 2nd puppy, a little girl with one eye.  We'll get her in a few days when the chi-baby is feeling better.

Pretty sure this li'l lady has the spirit of The Golden.  Same eye missing, and same sweet temperament.

We have no hot water, nor do we have water pressure.

This is the cold season, so I'm actually donning a sweatshirt and pants.

Oh, my pants!  They are destroyed because the house maid put bleach in the water to wash them.  All my pretty city clothes are now donned with polka dots, which will turn into holes when they're washed again.  I will now fit in with the Dominicans.

We had to get her to wash all our clothes that we had at the storage facility here, because they were mouldy when we got to them.  They've only been here for 4 months and everything we owned had a layer of mould soot on it.  So lovely.

We haven't eaten a meal since we left Canada.

Our gas range only has one burner that works and when we finally had time (from running around all day, never stopping to the point of my feet throbbing), we bought groceries to cook a nice meal instead of corn chips for dinner again.

Well, the last functioning burner quit, so last night, yet again, we had more corn chips for dinner.

The sweet maid's boy brings me fresh fruit.  I hope he brings more today.  I'm starving.

All our clothes are still in suitcases, because we don't have dressers to put them in.  So, we can't find anything because it's a mess.

It took so long to find my underwear, because it was used to stuff into tiny little areas of the suitcase, that I wore the same skanky pair for 5 days straight.

Today I'm at the point of 'fuck it' and I'm going commando.

That was super great today, when we had to pull over to find a washroom to clean the vomit off my pants from the chi-baby.  2nd time he's christened me with his stomach acid now.

First time, yesterday, I just sent Papi in to go buy me a new skirt.  This time I just found a washroom at a restaurant, stripped down and cleaned my pants, then left the washroom looking like I had jumped into the sink.

We haven't even been able to find time or energy to get into the ocean that is mere steps away.

Well, with the exception of the time I had to run around the neighbourhood trying to find the new puppy that decided he was going back to where he came from.

I ran up and down the beach looking for him.  The vision of running up and down a Caribbean beach may sound 'nice' to you, but this this body is so broken that 'running' around put me into back spasm.

Oh, and our bed?  It's so uncomfortable that within 20 minutes of lying in it, even the bones in my fingers hurt from all the pain radiating from every blood vessel in my body.

This is not paradise, nor is it relaxation.  This is more work than I've done since my motorcycle accident 4 years ago.

I'm in agony and exhausted, on top of having a nasty case of the shits.  It's getting so bad, that pretty soon I'll be able to shit through the eye of a needle.

I laughed at Papi when he said we need to build a wall for our place to keep us safe.

I'm not laughing anymore.  Our house maid told us I'm never allowed to be left alone in Casa Paraíso, because the bandidos will come and overpower me to take everything, so I'm basically a prisoner.

My thoughts of writing on my laptop while having a beautiful view of the ocean are squelched.  I'm hiding in the back of the house in the spare room to be sure nobody sees my computer.

Not paradise.  No, not yet.

So, if you had even a remote moment or tinge of jealousy in your body about us moving here, don't.

Instead, enjoy your freedom as you move about the city to go to a store and instantly find what you need, have a warm shower and crawl into your comfortable beds that aren't filled with ants, sand, and cockroaches the size of my fist.

Go enjoy your own paradise.  Your life of accessibility is grand.  You really are living well.

I promise you.

everything will get better.  i know this, because it always does.  i trust this to still be true.

what's xmas without an ER visit?

So, while I was lying in emergency last night, I came up with a poem for y'all:

'Twas the night before Xmas
and all through the house
all the creatures were stirring,
including the mouse (aka: Sir Bark-a-Lot).

Papi dropped me off
to the ER with care
and all I could think was,
"How bad is my hair?!?"

The nurse gave me drugs
to help ease the pain,
and Papi and I were amazed
that we were here again.

The drugs didn't help,
but at least I felt better,
but damn!  I was cold
as I eyed up my sweater.

I'll go for their cat scan
to check out my head,
but it's just so damn painful
I wish I were dead.

Had me a bit of a migraine from hell.

I guess my pain killers have run their course and my pain had to go somewhere, so up it went to my head.

They pumped me up with morphine, gave me a cat scan to make sure there was no tumour, and sent me on my way.

Merry Xmas, you get a Pain Med Party.

Today, I'm not staggering all over the place and my eyes are open half way, so I'm doing a hell of a lot better than I was 24 hours ago.

So, for your Xmas pleasure, I made a video for Papi.

You are entitled to see it.

I threw in a few of my tunes as well, so you may want to have your speakers on.

Or not.  Hehehe.  Just don't tell me that.

No need in breaking my heart, eh?

I hope this day finds you all well.

i fill this day with hope and fill it with joy

grief hurts us all

They call me Sir Bark-a-Lot.

Really, I only bark to protect my dog they call, 'The Golden'.

Yesterday, they took him out without me, but they never brought him back.

I'm still waiting for him.

They brought his collar home, so he has to come back for them to put it on, right?

I sniffed around his bed today.  Something smells different.  It's not right.

Not to mention, his bowl isn't the same.  It's clean.

I'm feeling really tired.

There's something else that was out of the ordinary; they never take me out for walks alone.  I always have my big one eye.

I don't want to leave Papi's side.  I'm kinda scared.  What if I'm stuck here with 3 cats and no big brother?

One dog.  Alone.

My bitch person says I'm not a dog, but I am!  Really!

I feel the same as my one eyed brother, only he's a gentle giant.

My people keep crying.  I know something must be really hard for them, so I'm just going to be sad along with them, so I feel like I belong.

I don't know why they seem different when they hold me.  It feels like they hold me a little tighter.  I guess I'll endure their obsessive cuddling.

Even the cats are acting different.

The Bastard Prince won't even go on his bitch person to claim her.  He's acting weird.

It's also much quieter here now.  Not just the sound, but the energy.  Quiet.

When I came in from my walk, I expected my brother to be here.

Something is definitely wrong.

It's not right without the one eye.

I'm pretty sure he'll be back for tonight's shift.

He has to show up for work.  He has a job to do.  He makes everyone feel so happy.  He would never leave those ladies alone.

I'm so confused.  I'm never without him.

It smells so different around here.

The call me Sir Bark-a-Lot.

But I only bark to protect my big brother.

I don't feel like barking today.

R.I.P. ol' one eye

monkey.

We've got everything packed for our 2 weeks, plus things that will be staying in the home we buy.

My boifriend came by to go over the Hector-Brown Pet PDF, and it seems he is now trained.

We'll be sending him into battle as of Sunday evening.

Poor soul.  I'm sorry.  Wear lots of leather.

Hopefully there won't be a repeat of the newest Psycho Kitty problem, pooing on the chihuahua's pee pad, then spreading it on the walls like a mental monkey.

Oh good god.

I'd love to talk more about the feces festival, however, that just may be too much info for ya.

The way we found the poo pile was because he was pushing around Sir Bark-A-Lot's pee pad, as if it was for him and he was cleaning it up.

We just laughed and thought it was a new silly antic.

It seemed like he was now an O.C.D. kitty who needs to have the place cleaner than clean. 

I was thinking that I was going to be living with a four legged crazy cleaner, after growing up with my mother who was nuts about cleaning and was cleaner than clean.

Maybe that's why I'm such a slob?

I'm still rebelling against my mother's cleaning habits.

Anyway, all morning, there was this odor we couldn't find.

We looked in the poo box and nothing was there.

Of course, we just blamed it on the dog. 

Old Mr. Farty, The Golden.

But then I went in to the washroom to clean out my coffee Bodum for today's cup of joy and blammo!

There it was.

Shit on the walls.

Oh sorry, I told you I wasn't going to talk about it.

How about I talk about the fact that Papi has thrown away my cleaning buckets!

Hey, why not!  He never uses them, so they're not really important, right?

There I was, with one of our FOOD BOWLS filling it full of vinegar and lemon juice, combining that with the organic, earth friendly spray cleaner to get the job started.

Well, as I was frantically looking for things to use for cleaning, Papi actually did the deed himself.

Phew!

Well, that was that.

Done.

The good news is, I'm feeling less stressed, but now it's Papi's turn.  We really do take turns.

You see, now I'm excited!

We are ready to get the last minute pre-trip organizing done, and then away we go for 2 weeks!

To the warm, health and energy.

Paradise in 2 more days.

i have a solid sense of self identity

The Limping Lesbian

According to the defense lawyer, my pain was supposed to miraculously disappear after we settled my motorcycle accident claim.

Really?  When?  Because it certainly hasn't happened since we settled Tuesday.

As a Limping Lesbian, I know that we are much more assailable.

It actually makes me feel quite vulnerable in an area of town that I used to feel comfortable in.

I hold my purse a little closer.  I look over my shoulder at just who it is I nervously listen to walking behind me.

I tuck my cell in inaccessible areas, with the idea that if I can't get it, neither can the scum suckers who would try to steal it.

I also know limping is not sexy.  I want my sexy walk back dammit!  I suppose I can let that one go.  At least I'm walking, unlike 4 years ago.

Besides, like Papi always jokes, "Hey, I don't need to try anymore, I'm married!"

Anyway, someone tried to get into our suite yesterday, and I felt quite a bit more leery of my state to be able to protect myself.

All I can say is, I'm super happy I have Sir Bark-A-Lot.  This particular opportunist won't come back to our suite, because he knows the little pecker would make too much noise.

The worst part of this is not about the person who tried to break into our suite.  The hardest part for me is how insecure I feel about protecting myself.

I'm really not the same person I was 4 years ago.

Nearing the end of my case, I was told my newest diagnosis is a conversion disorder, and was told we'd be referring to this diagnosis a lot in mediation/court.

This meant all my sober, drunken-style staggering, wincing pain, horrid memory and embarrassing disorientation are all caused by this issue.

Kinda like how a panic attack is uncontrollable.  Upon being triggered, a switch goes off in your noodle, and all of a sudden, you feel like you have no legs or arms, and your head is 50 ft higher than your shoulders.

In other words, it's all in my head.  Really?!?  I'm not buyin' it. 

If it's all in my head, then when the fuck does this imaginary pain go away?  Bring it on bitches, because I'm done!

It also occurred to me that having goats, pigs, chickens, 10 dogs, 50 cats and a donkey may not be the best idea for my bitch of a back.

We're supposed to be going to the DR so that I may live with less pain.

However, I'm not so sure that having our very own version of Dr. Doolittle's empire would be suitable.

Not to mention the veggie garden.  Well actually, Papi is going to build me a raised garden so that I don't have to bed over to tend to it.

Good thing, because while I'm tending to the raised garden, he'll be chasing around chickens.

I've maintained that my donkey will be a logical choice.  My donkey will be my shopping cart.

I wonder if it could hold my weight?  How much can a donkey hold!?!?  Can it carry the groceries as well as me when my imaginary pain gets too much to handle?  And are males less stubborn than females?!?!

I also found out yesterday that NONE of the snakes are poisonous!!!  This is so exciting!  I get to play with snakes!

And geckos!

Oh, wait.  My sweet friend informed me that they're not called geckos.  They're called Anoles.  Same idea, but different.

Anyway, I told myself that I really didn't need goats, pigs and chickens to make my bitch of a back flare up, and that the whole idea is to rest in the sun and heal in the ocean.

Yet still, even as we plan our trip there to buy a home, all I envision is a yard filled with critters.

It's almost as if we'll have no choice once we get there, that we'll be donned with animals, whether we like it or not.

Well, maybe my imaginary pain will miraculously disappear when we're there?

I dunno.

All I do know, is I'm bloody well done with this bitch of a back.

She is sooooo fired.

i am glowing with health and wholeness

these are the people in your neighbourhood ...

Poor Papi.  He had his first bad experience living in an crowded city apartment block.

There are so many good people here.  This area is full of people who would actually wait a half an hour with my keys outside my car, hoping that I would return, so that nobody would steal it.

They returned my keys the next day with one request, "Do you have 10 bux you could spare?  I'm a little broke and need some food."

We gladly gave him two fivers, but if we had more, we'd give it to him as well, knowing the money ain't going to the food.  None-the-less, dude didn't steal anything from our car and he returned our keys.  Next time I see him, I may bring him out for lunch to get that meal.

Anyway, last night's experience wasn't as neighbourly.

My love is mostly the one to bring the dogs outside, as I can't carry The Golden up our flight of stairs.  He's being stubborn and refusing to get into the apartment, because it's not his home.  So, Papi has to carry him.

Obviously I can't, but I usually go for the walk with them and hold doors open while my love carries the flailing four legs to our floor.

Last night, my bitch of a back told me to stay put, so out went Papi on his own to explore his new area.

In this hood, there are a lot of people with addiction problems.  It's just been the way of this district for years.  It's much better now, but there's still some issues.

Sir Bark-A-Lot remembers when mi esposo was a big ol' drunk and subsequently, does NOT like drunks.

Hence, he did what he does best and tried to terrorize the guy by the nipping at his heels and yapping.  My love hasn't mastered the art of 'Alpha', and the little fucker of a dog behaves horribly when he's with Papi.

Our ghetto drunk was not impressed, and back and forth went the argument between the two.  However, the only thing I heard from the window was an angry, "Try going to an AA meeting!"

I called my love to tell him that everything he says is heard loud and clear up in our suite, which means that everyone else can hear it too.

That was when I got the full story.  This nutbar of a drunk waited for my love to return, because he knew our car, since Papi had put something in there while he was waiting for the one eyed big man to do his doggy biz.

As soon as the drunk saw Papi come back up the sidewalk, he had his revenge by approaching Papi, stating very loudly, "Next time I see your dog I'm going to kill him."

Papi retorted, "Next time I see your face I'll be calling the cops."  Instead, mi esposo came up and told me the story and called the cops then and there. 

While my love and I stood outside waiting for the police, this dude was doing his best to intimidate us from his apartment window, because his apartment is next door to us.

Now we have a neighbour who is threatening to kill our dog.  Not the nicest welcome to the hood we just moved into 5 days ago.

Not to mention, my love has come from spacious plots of land where nobody sees each other and nobody talks, never mind threaten death.

Papi was genuinely terrified, as this guy knows where we live and what our vehicle looks like.  It's hard not to spot our fucking vehicle with all the stickers on it.

Oh, dude also has our phone number, because that too is plastered on the side of our car for my love's pet care business.

Well, cops showed up, and after speaking to the sloppy drunk, he told us that we should just ignore him.  Seriously.  Anyone who would threaten to kill a 'chihuahua', stating 'it's owner sicked it on him' has to be a little off kilter.

"Do your best to keep your distance from him," was the end result, with the tag, "If anything else happens, call us."

Then through my love speaking to the cop, he informed him that we just moved from the West Side, where he's lived all his life, and having this experience really scared him.

Cop stopped for a second and tried his best to understand, "Why on earth did you move HERE?!?!?"  There's always a punch line.  Even from a cop.

I explained to my love that this is what it's like living in this 'community'.  There are wonderful people, but that also means there are sick people.

Just so happens, the sick one knows where we live, what our car looks like and wants to kill our dog.

Having said that, he probably won't remember a thing today and may even tip his hat all neighbourly like the next time he sees Sir Bark-A-Lot.

It's just the law of the big city.

i feel completely at ease, and comfortable with all types of people

yes, i'm still alive.

We had no internet, and no internet means no blog.

Now, we're slowly getting back on track.

And now that we're gradually getting back on track, I need to tell the world how hard a worker my love is.

Other than when one friend who helped us for part of a day, with the really awkward, heavy stuff, Papi did the whole move on his own.

Seriously.

I tried to carry a few light things, but my bitch of a back wouldn't let me do the stairs with even the small stuff.

So, my love had to do it all, and do it all he did.

It really looked like we had nothing when we were in that big house, but now that we've taken that 'nothing' into 454 sq. ft. of animals, it's another story.

It's shown me that even more has to go.

If Papi has to be the one to move all my stuff, I'm going to get it as whittled as possible.

Our Closet is small, but so, so sweet.  I suppose because it's ours.

Once mi esposo and I get past the worst of settling in, we can enjoy ourselves.  Papi's not liking this whole game so far.

And the animals?

They're all on Rescue Remedy.

Oddly enough, we finally found something that works.

Everyone is calm and there hasn't been one fight.

Even Sir Bark-A-Lot only had one flip out.

However, Papi and I weren't so calm up until this point.

The humans were having issues that Rescue Remedy couldn't touch.

The last time I moved somewhere, which happened to be 4 months before the motorcycle accident, I could just about anything.

I was such a pack rat, and hence I had a lot of stuff.

A lot.

Well, back then, my love and I moved them, with only our two able bodies.

I was able enough to help huff our canoe up on top of the truck.

It's hard for a work-a-holic to not work sometimes.

I'm learning though.  Everything in moderation, including walking up stairs and whining.

Oh!

Papi had a finger cut emergency and had to use his Band-Aids.  What I found was, most of those boxes were pretty much empty.

Still, they were important enough to mi esposo, that he had them unpacked 1st.

Good thing!  You never know when you'll use them!

Well, now Papi can say he's moved like the rest of us.

Poor Papi.

He's exhausted.

I have the hardest working husband on the planet.

This has been a whirlwind of 5 days.

i learn from my mistakes

A New Space.

So there I was, absolutely ecstatic about being able to do my blob/blab this morning in sunlight and my fucking plans were bamboozled.

You know how I have to have a routine in the morning to make my breakfast?  I'm a wreck in the morning.  My poor injured brain can't function, unless I have my routine.

Well, last night we moved upstairs from the dungeon, and I thought I'd moved everything I needed for making my breakfast.

Nope.  All I moved up was my coffee bodum and beans.

Good god.  If you've ever seen a comedy routine like the one this morning, you'd never forget it.

Up and down the stairs, trying to figure out what I need next, coffee beans hadn't been ground until after the water was boiled, apple sauce cups flying all over the place as I tried to bring them up the stairs while that kettle screamed at me to do something about it, and no spices for my eggs.

Not to mention, my first bite of eggs fell off my fork and on to the floor, and were now an awesome treat for Sir Bark-A-Lot.  After inhaling it in one gulp, he looked at me as if to say, "Please sir, could I have some more?"

I don't know about you, but my breakfast has to go well for me to get a good start in the morning.

Then came the worst decision I could make on this day.   I thought I'd check the mail.  Bad idea.

There was my little envelope saying all my benefits that I sent in for my Brace Face were not eligible.  NOT a nice thing to read before I've had my coffee.

The woman on the phone was absolutely wonderful, mostly because I told her my animosity was not directed toward her, but toward that horrid fucking company she works for.

She didn't disagree.  She only giggled.

I liked her giggle.  It calmed me down.

I asked her if she ever received a happy person on the other end, because every time I call I'm psychotic and want to fly through the telephone wire and strangle someone.

She giggled and replied, "Well, we get a mixture of satisfied customers and some not so happy."

I asked, "You mean bitchy people like me?"  Again, she only giggled.

She soothingly explained to me what nobody else has ever explained in my 4.5 years of dealing with them.  She broke down what every little number meant and how it works.

I cooled off and told her I hope the rest of her day was filled with the satisfied customers she spoke of.  She gave me one last giggle, "Thank you.  I hope your day gets better."

This blob/blab today was supposed to be about the fact that I'm up here writing in beautiful daylight upstairs, and not in the dungeon.

The gargantuan, acorn filled trees are my amazing picture as I write to you.  Every little wisp of wind helps the leaves wave at me to greet me to my new view for writing.

The sunshine coming through the window absolutely makes my heart feel so much more warmth and happiness.

That's what this was supposed to be about.

Oh.  And the cats.  They are not liking the fact that we're upstairs with Psycho Kitty.  I tried to get them to come up and eat, but they prefer living with Dungeon Syndrome.

At least while they're down there, they know their hiding places and are content that they can gang up on Psycho Kitty and run him outta town!

I'll continue to attempt to feed them up here, but The Mrs. won't eat.  She just paces the room meowing showing the whites of her eyes.

She's also not impressed that everything is gone from her space.

All alone sits her cat tree, amongst the vacant space of a room that holds only my piano and a few items that we won't be getting rid of until the house sells.

It occurred to me that the anxiety Papi and I are feeling is also being felt by the Fuzzy Family.  I can use them as my gauge as to why I'm feeling so unsettled.

This is an exciting venture, but there is also a little bit of difficulty when life is in chaos.

The critters are my mirror.  Another reason I love them so much.

Ah for fucks sakes.  I just spilled my entire water glass.

joy overflows in my life

more death talk.

He's baaaa-aaack.

The Galloping Gazelle.

He's really doing well with the cats this time around, but that doesn't matter to them.  They remember.  Oh, how they remember.

The Bastard Prince has taken root on our kitchen island, and The Mrs. won't come out of her office.

We have to carry them to the litter box in intervals to make sure they get there.

Then there's Psycho Kitty.  Psycho Kitty doesn't give a shit.

He'll just swat at him.

At this point, we are blessed with the cacophony of dog screams, because Sir Bark-A-Lot gets scared as well, even if he's ten feet away when the swatting happens, and it's not even directed at him.

Furthermore, Psycho Kitty doesn't even make physical contact with those claws of steel, so the song of dismay is pointless, really.

Here's the good part though.

Sir Bark-A-Lot actually likes him.

Now this may not sound like a big deal to you, but if you knew what an asshole he is, you'd be surprised that he could like any dog.

But he likes him.

Which means no barking.  Just tail wagging.

Well, a little growling.

He has to make sure The Galloping Gazelle doesn't move on in with the love.

The Golden ignores him.

Anyway, it's going to be a hectic weekend.

Not to mention, an emotional one.

Tomorrow we take care of The World's Loudest Snorer's ashes.

I can't call her a snorer anymore.

She's a dog angel.

We're going to her ceremony of releasing her ashes.

My poor, sweet, little friend, you have no idea how much you are missed by so many people.

We'll all be there tomorrow to see you off.

Today is another day to deal with death.

I'm going to the Relay for Life that my baby sister is at.

She's there to remember her best friend who died of cancer.

I'm there to support her in her venture.

She won the top prize for the most money raised!!!!

My baby sister is amazing!!!!

She beat out a corporation in fund raising!!!! 

My little baby sister.

She rocks.

There will be many people there today, who are remembering those they lost, and fighting for those who need financial support.

I'm going to be there for the living.

To date, I've only lost one person in my life to cancer.

And it was when I was a little girl, so I didn't really grieve, I just moved on and missed them for a little while.

Everyone else I know has fought and won!

Including my mom.

Cancer, you're a mother fucker.

don't pray when it rains if you don't pray when the sun shines

come back papi

Ok.

So, I haven't showered, slept or eaten a meal in 2 days.

My nephew dogs are a bit of a handful.

Not to mention, they destroyed my hair.

I was supposed to have nice hair for the week, until Papi gets back, but the puppies made sure they ruined my doo.

Only problem is, I'm outta product.

Did I tell you Papi is not here?

No.

He's in Mexico.

Fucking Mexico on vacation.

He's there for his sister's wedding.  Of course, I had to stay behind to go to a psych evaluation for the insurance company who really believes that having pain, and cognitive troubles after being hit on my motorcycle, flying 15 feet through the air, landing on my head, having to learn to walk and focus again, is all in my head.

Yeah.

Anyway.

Papi is relaxing.  He deserves it, after being so sick for so long.

He's sounding well and that's such a good thing.

Warm, peaceful, no g'ma, no responsibility.

The worst part of this nephew dogs' visit is actually not the puppies though.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, they wrecked my hair ...

... it's all about my hair ...

... but it’s nothing compared to Sir Bark-A-Lot living up to his name.

Little mother fucker is seriously loud.

His piercing bark tears my eardrums.

His baring of teeth makes me shudder.

I have spent the past 2 days sitting as still as possible.

As long as I sit very, very still, nobody moves.

Puppies don’t play, then Sir Bark-A-Lot doesn’t bark or bare teeth.

They leave today, but then I have 5 more days to care for the G’ma alone.

Alone.

I’m caring for 7 animals and a 96 year old with Alzheimer’s, all on my own.

No fucking wonder I haven’t eaten or slept.

Or smiled.

Between losing The World’s Loudest Snorer and not having my love here to help with the chaos, my heart doesn’t feel well.

I want my Papi back.

Everything is so much easeir when he’s here. 

He keeps me calm.

He keeps me smiling.

When he’s not here, life doesn’t seem right.

Come home Papi, I miss you so much.

This may prove to be the hardest week of 2012.

Not the hardest week of my life.  So far, those ones are behind me.

But definitely the hardest week of 2012.

Pass the pain killers.

            i am at peace