is there a secret i'm missing?

This 'no walking' thing is impossible with 4 horribly behaved puppies.

Especially when you wake up to great piles of crap you have to pick up.

Then, if dealing with that didn't hurt enough, at first glance, I thought there was vomit all over the couch.

Upon nearing the sofa, I found out otherwise.

No, it was my entire bag of quinoa strewn from one end to the other.

Do you know how hard it is to sweep up quinoa?

It becomes static and flies everywhere when you brush it.  It doesn't go into the sweeping pan.

You know Mexican Jumping Beans?  It's sorta the same.

So, after I picked up the great masses of dog droppings on the floor, ...

... have you SEEN the size of the thug and the donkey?!?! imagine the poops ...

... I went to work on the quinoa.

Only to find, somebody with four legs had peed on the other side of the couch.

We're back to that again now, are we?  I thought we passed that puppy phase and everyone was allowed back on the couch again!

Oh, this couch is not ours.

The crap was beside it.

The piss was on it, and yes, there was quinoa in the piddle.

The quinoa was torn apart and pushed from one end to the other, and I sure hope the Fuzzy Family had a good time with the quinoa party, destroying a good chunk of my food that I don't have the strength to get up and cook.

No, this couch is not ours.

It belongs to them.

Those stinky little bastards we love so much.

How do we love such horrible creatures?!?!?!?

I did my best and cleaned up the crap, sopped up the piss, pouring vinegar on in hopes of squelching the putrid aroma that will fester in this heat for days to come, then swept as much quinoa as the pain would allow me.

"Rest.  No walking," the surgeon said.

Right.

I'll get to that after I go speak with Our Fave's Mom and Little Angel who are at the gate.

They know how to reel me in, and I'm just not rude enough to wave people away.

Sure, I'll walk so you can show me the gorgeous little boy with eyes from the heavens that entice me into watching this little tyke grow.

Oh, make sure to bring WeeHeart with all her enchanting energy as well, so that I couldn't possibly say, "I can't talk today," and follow my doctor's orders.

And for sure, bring along someone from the village so that I can't have a private conversation with you about the fact that your family has been lying to us and we can't be godparents with dishonest people.

"Rest.  No walking."

Who the hell on this earth can do this?!?!?  Can you?!?!?  How the fuck is this even possible?!?!?

If you know how to do this, please, enlighten me.

"Rest.  No walking."

Sure, right after I let the people in to come fix the washing machine, because our clothes stink so bad, you can smell them in Canada.

"Rest.  No walking."

Oh look!  Pescado Pal is at the gate wanting to sell me his hard working wares he caught in the ocean.

I've been up since 9, but it's now 12:30 and this is the first time I've rested my ankle.

"Rest.  No walking."

Well, my foot looks pretty swollen again.  This is not a good sign.

Neither is the pain that's shooting, or the throbbing that accompanies it.

Oh, but I'll rest.

Later.

i am capable of making healthy choices

the place of 'health'

There's not too much that can entice me out of bed these days.

The Carpenter has a key now, so I allow my body to sleep until it needs.

Right now, for some reason, it needs a lot.  Nighttime.  Daytime.  So much.  I just want to sleep.

However, today, Little Angel needed to see a doctor.

There was a problem with his eye and Our Fave's Mom was very worried, as any mother becomes when something doesn't look right.

His eye had some redness.  Maybe an infection?

There are free medical clinics for those who have the proper Dominican Republic identification.  No Haitians allowed, never mind Canadians.

Upon entering, I realized, it's not the best place for someone who has a low immune system to be, but I waited with them for 2 hours for their turn.

Mama fussed about the Little Angel while I kept his WeeHeart sister filled with love and attention.

She hugged me non-stop, then held my hand, walking me over to where her imagination said, "I'm jumping off a HUGE cliff!!!  Look at me!!"

She climbs up my body like a creature with suction hands and feet akin to Spiderman.

Then she tells me I smell.

Yup.  You got that right.

I got outta bed for your brother, our Godson, and didn't shower.  So nope.  I don't smell too nice.

But it's funny for a kid when I lift my arm to expose my armpit, waving toward her a waft of the Andréa Special.

Well, SHE thought it was funny.

Not sure how funny the adults who were staring thought it was.  Poor child, having to sit with such a dirty, stinky gringa.

Signs hung that explained how to keep from getting Cholera and how much bleach to use in the drinking water.

Drinking water.  This is not Canada.

A sign explaining that if you have a cough for more than 15 days, you may have TB.

All the while I looked at people coughing, sneezing, children with more than their share of mucus being expunged from their bodies.

Not a good place for a weak immune system, but a hell-uv-a good place to have love.

WeeHeart was enthralled that she had my utmost attention, where in the village, it seems she only gets a moment of my time before another child gets a ride on the jalopy that is the Hector-Brown Amusement Park.

There was more entertainment for our ride home, when we were stopped by the police, again.

It seems to be a daily occurrence for me now.

Papi was reading that our car is a target.

Crappy cars have no money.  No point pulling them over.

Expensive cars have connections.  No point pulling them over.

But mid-cars?  Like a Toyota Corolla?

Always.  We're the ones they target for extortion.

Immediately, when she saw Mr. Extortion wave us down, mama threw the baby in the back seat to lie on his own.

And I mean TOSS.

They would have taken a lot money from me if he was in the front, safely on his mother's lap.  It's a huge ticket.

She saved me, by putting the baby in an unsafe place to lie where he could roll off into something not so nice, like one of Papi's empty pop cans.

Good thing she was fast acting, because I didn't have peso to pinch.

Then she told me her husband's boss (also a gringo) was recently extorted and now has no money to pay the Little Angel's dad, that they need money for formula because her breasts no longer give milk.

At the moment I was saying we didn't have anything, because we used everything that came in for The Carpenter and Mr. Lumpy, the gas gauge went to empty and the dreaded gas light came on.

No matter.  We were close enough to coast if we needed to.

We'd probably just get someone to push us to our street where I could run and get more credit out of our barely coping credit cards.

And then I wonder, "Why am I so tired all the time?"

Because every day is an adventure.

i rejoice in the love i encounter every day