the calm is coming ...

Do you get hay fever?

I had hay fever every Spring for years.

Then, one day, it seemed to calm down.

Well, here we are in another part of the world and the equivalent of Spring is now.

In Autumn.

And the pollen is different.

I'm sneezing so much, that sometimes, I have to fight to catch my breath.

I thought that the ocean spray ruined all our flowers, but we had flowers start coming in when the really bad heat wave finally subsided.

Flowers are in bloom and so is my nose.

Full, red and shiny.

Looking around at the beautiful land flourishing here, I realize that I really like the country.

I love the chickens, cows, goats, horses, donkeys, and the abundance of dogs.

Oh then there's the great big pig that I had to wait to cross the road yesterday so that I could drive out of the little road of our village.

They were herding him with a branch.

He was not impressed.

Eventually he walked past me with his snout raised high, smelling the scent of my dogs on my car tires.

I love living in the country.

It's beautiful.

The air is clean.

Well, with the exception of too many cows in one lot of land.  Then it's a bit funky.

But they still bring a great smile to my face.

I did grow up in Vancouver, when Vancouver had the spacial feel of the country.

Until the 80's when things boomed.

Then we lost the Vancouver I loved.

At first, I thought it would be good for this country's people if it had that kind of financial boom, but I don't any more.

It's lovely the way it is.

Cows and all.

Space between neighbours, so that I can play my piano, croon and not worry about anyone hearing me.

When I was in Vancouver, I was always so worried about people hearing my voice, judging me and saying I suck and banging on the wall to tell me to shut the fuck up.

Rats in a cage.

Here?

I can sing as loud as I want and even Papi can't hear me when he's upstairs.

Bliss.

Play.

Sing.

Freedom.

I realized today, while speaking to Jersey Girl, that the battle Papi and I have fought for quite some time to be here, is coming to an end.

We're worse for wear, me the Limping Lesbian and Papi with his new concussion he's donning.

Oh, I didn't tell you about that, did I?

'Someone' took the drinking experiment a tad too far, fell, hit his head and has been recovering from a concussion for the past week.

I guess we all have our experiments.

Anyway, only now, after 10 months, finally making friends, and playing my music to my heart's desire, am I finally seeing that this is the romantic part of the life I wanted.

It's coming.

We're almost out of battle.

We have the trophy of scars.

i am redefining what is important to me

blame it on the rain

This week, we haven't been able to keep up our 'excursion to the beach' bargain.

It seems that when our friends back home in Vancouver have a lot of sun, we get all their rain.

I don't mind so much.

The rain here is warm.

Plus!

When it rains it means our lazy asses don't have to go water the garden.

That saying, 'When it rains it pours', is MORE than true here.

A lot of the time, Vancouver's bad weather is that horrible misty rain, which floats up and under people's umbrellas.

No point in an umbrella when it's that fine mist.

Here?

No such thing.

Never fine mist.

When it rains, it literally pours.

Everyone runs for cover.

Our Favourite was here yesterday, to find out what time we could drive Our Fave's Mom to her sister's house.

She has a best friend in her sister.  Her sister will make her happy.

Even though we eventually went for that walk on the beach yesterday, I know that a best friend always makes us much more content.

We are her personal chauffeur, as we gather all her, our godson, and the kids' belongings and pack them into our little Carolla.

I always make Our Fave's Mom sit in front, even though every time she tries to sit in the back, because it's the rule in our car.  Visitors in front.

Most folks have motorcycles, so as we drive along that narrow street of her family's village, people look in at her like she's something pretty fancy, and I feel like all she's missing is a tiara.

Anyway, it was raining and Our Favourite was here to find out when we'd be leaving.  I asked him to go tell his mother that we'd be there in 10 minutes.

20 minutes if you count in that everything is Dominican Time.  Even ex-pats get stuck in that time warp.

He told me he couldn't go tell her until it stopped raining.

I thought maybe my lack of Spanish was hearing the wrong thing, but nope.

He couldn't walk to his house because it was raining.

The kids here don't go to school when it rains and even shops shut down.

But it wasn't until his mother said that the rain hurts her and gives her a headache that I finally understood.

In Vancouver, the rain debilitated me, as every injury I had from the motorcycle accident was inflamed and I would lie writhing, unless I was whacked out on pain meds.

Here, the rain is warm, and to me it's lovely, but when you've lived here from birth, well, the rain is cold and it hurts.

It's pretty amazing how one woman's pain is another's joy.

It's so true to everything in life.

It's all relative.

Like my Big Sister reminded me, even though I see our house as the size of an average abode in Vancouver, here it is a mini mansion.

Everything is relative.

All I know is, here, I am grateful for the rain, and people look at me like I'm nuts as I walk around in a tank top and shorts, smiling, because I know once the sun comes back out, I'll be dry in 10 minutes.

I put my most admired, heaviest sweatshirt on Our Favourite, and off we went to drive around our royalty.

Indeed, I did my best to make her feel comforted yesterday.

Even if our lack of Spanish somehow had us buying her sister's chicken their feed for the month.

OK kids.

The buck-buck-BUCKAW stops here.

... did you get my chicken joke? ...

Time to put up some more boundaries.

And learn some more Spanish.

i love my family and friends, even if they don't understand me completely

change.

There's a chorus of dogs out there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why?  What is this phenomenon of construction workers?

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

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

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

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

My most prized possession?  My mango tree.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We're depressed until we leave the house.

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

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

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

Speaking of running, workers are calling.

And off I go.

hardship helps me grow into a stronger person

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

the greatest day of all

Wow what a day.

Indeed, something to write home about.

Let's start with Mr. Majestic.  The new guard dog.  AKA: Cat Killer.

So, as per instruction from my friend, The Super Googler, I've been keeping Cujo on a leash, tied around my waist.

Everything I do, I do it with him.

He's lovely, other than the cat killing thing.

I've had to put him into submission already, but I learned that I've lost a lot of strength since my motorcycle accident.  I couldn't quite wrangle him to the ground, but still, the intention was felt and he understood I am alpha.

So, yesterday, the Housemaid came and we were ready for our deed, pay out and papers in hand.  The moment I saw her, my fearless protector started barking and scared the shit out of her.

Mission accomplished!

She will not be the person to come sneaking on to our property unannounced anymore, and word will get around about our scary guard dog.

I was shocked, amazed, and so damn grateful, you wouldn't believe.

He didn't like her and he protected me.  He hadn't even been here 24 hours and he protected me.

Then it was time to do the nasty deed, and we did it with love and hugs and everyone was happy.  Of course she wanted to work for free like I knew she would, but I told her, "You are my friend, not my employee."

Then something magical happened.  That friendship grew yesterday.

She invited us to her house.  Of course we saw the fresh white paint, but we didn't say anything.  We're swallowing our pride.

Then she invited us to sit in her garden area.

It was beautiful.  Spacious.  Fresh.  Cool.  Kids were in abundance, playing with 'guns' made out of wood someone had specially crafted for them.

I met the Dominican Daddy's cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, mother, and anyone else who was remotely related by way of babies.

Oh, there was also a parade of everyone's chickens, roosters and dogs, and did we meet babies!  All that was missing was a donkey and a goat.

Our guard's baby was placed in my lap without even asking.  He was so damn sweet and looked just like his papa.

Then more ladies brought another baby, children squealed all around us, people came and said hi and I'll tell you, THIS is what I expected in moving here.

THIS was getting to know the village and becoming part of the community.

It was the nicest time I've had here.

I was welcomed, I was grateful for their congeniality, I was made to feel like I wasn't a stranger.

I felt love, and the possibility that we could have our DR Family.

I was invited back anytime, and I will take her up on it.

Probably the most beautiful part of the experience, was when the little critter who comes to our yard unannounced saw me in his house.

His mouth gaped open from the surprise, and I said, "Now I'm in YOUR house, my friend!!"

He ran over to me and gave me the biggest hug, so filled with love and respect, I almost cried.

It was the most amazing feeling ever.  Love from a child who has accepted me whole heartedly.

Prior to this day, I felt that I was only seen to the village as money on legs.  Now that we told the Housemaid that we don't have anymore, we were looked at differently.

We felt we were actually looked at by the Housemaid as a friend, and that this is the start of a new dynamic.

We're still not going to be stupid.  Everyone is an opportunist, but we definitely can have friendship and get to know our neighbours.

I had a thought last night, that with the amount of children who are back in our village, I'm going to start a children's choir!

I'll start small, by just learning some songs and the solfege scale, then I'm going to create a monster!  I'm going to have the children be the voices of instruments and song and make a vocal children's band!

It will keep me happy, keep the kids busy, and allow me to give music to their community.

It was a day to write home about.

i know that i have a choice in the work that i do in this world

what's your normal?!?!

Papi's manic.

His eyes are crossing while he's trying to stay awake, but he's insisting on doing more.

"Maybe you want to help me?" he asks with the snark level on high.

No, I want to finally write today, because I haven't been able to write for a few days.  However, I helped him anyway, because I really just want him to go to sleep.

It's been so busy.

Really busy.

I saved as much food as I could because I needed to eat, but damn!

Every time I turn around, I'm going for another hang out, which usually includes food and I'm not starving.  Let me just say that.

I'm not liking what I see in the mirror, so it may be time to cover up those reflective demons.

It seems we have lunch and dinner booked for the next 9 days.  Today is my last Thursday Lunch with my mother.

My Eternal Friend warned me, "Just wait until you get closer to the date.  It gets even worse."

I have friends that stopped having anything to do with me when I said I'd like to say goodbye.  They may try to catch up now, but I'm too far gone.

I realize now that my migraine is 100% due to the anxiety and stress.

The other day, I thought it vanished and I was excited that it would be a day to live without pain killers.

Then I spoke about everything we need to do, my mind started racing, my heart started squeezing and BOOM!

It was back, creeping up the left side my cheek bones until it landed throbbing at my temple.

My doctor was hoping to hear a miracle when I saw her the other day, but unfortunately, she wrote me a script for more morphine.

She also doesn't understand the stress.  "But it's a good thing you're doing!"

No, she doesn't get it.

I tried to explain, "Well, all my comfort is gone.  All my things that keep me happy are gone and I'm living in chaos.  It's really hard."

Not too many people understand.

I had awesome words from one reader who said how she gets stressed out when she's running 10 minutes behind if her dog takes too long to poop and I realized, any stress I've ever felt is only relative.

I've felt that stress before.

Now that stress seems like nothing, but to her it's everything, because she's living in it.

It is probably how people who don't understand view this.

It's really nothing to them, because they can't relate.

Man.

Try having every corner of your life either in boxes, gone or changed.

We humans hate change.

As I write, I'm looking at Papi, and wishing he would start the Graveyard Coma because he just looks so damn tired.

I made the mistake of saying, "Hey, Papi, maybe you should just go to sleep?" because his face was getting quite pale.

"Honey, I'm trying to do this, don't stress me out!!!"

Niether of us has really had 'normal' for weeks.

There is no more 'normal'.

Not right now, and I suspect, there will be no 'normal' for a long time.

We've abandoned our lives for a new one.

Our lives changed when we made the decision to strive for a better life.

There will come a point when all of this does become old hat.

Can you imagine?

When life with goats, a veggie garden, chickens, gads of dogs and island living (and perhaps a donkey?!?!?) becomes 'normal'?

Hard for me to fathom.

But it will.

my angels are helping me with every step i take.  they are always here

IT'S OURS!!!!!!!

Well, we basically know it's ours!!!!!

All we need to do is iron out the price details.

The house price will come with the car.  They do things a little different here.  I can't imagine a home in Vancouver with a car included.

None-the-less, the realtor told us is it's ours.

We have a Dominican home!!!!

Here's the odd thing about Papi and I.

My love was stressed, panicky and impatient to get the deal done.  I was calm, with that same mellow attitude that drives Papi crazy.

You know?

The calmness that says, "Don't even fret, Papi, because everything always works out, in one way or another."

Yet, all of a sudden, we have our house and blammo!  I'm freaking out.

As we drove away from the realtor, my brain went into hyper mode of, "Oh my god.  We're really doing this."  We're really making our dreams come true, and that's terrifying.  My stomach started turning and all I could think was, "Well now what?"

I'm having fears like, when we finally get here for good, I'll need to work.  What the hell am I going to do?!?!  I still won't be strong enough to do any grunt work, even if I do feel less pain.

Less pain is an understatement.  I haven't taken pain killers since the last plane we took.

I've had that end of the day back exhaustion, but really, all it means is it's time to rest, but no need for any drugs what-so-ever.  That really was the main intention of being here; to live drug free.

It's reality now.

I get to live like I did before the motorcycle accident, with a few changes.  I'm still not able to lift heavy stuff, but at least I can walk and sit for longer.

My most exciting venture here will be to go dancing.  I've been missing dancing for 4 years.  There have been a few times I've tried in Vancouver, but it always ends with me drugged outta my mind.

Clarity, energy and health will be mine once more.

My god, it's so hard to believe!

I do have a little more suffering to do in Vancouver until we actually make our way here, but that light at the end of the tunnel is shining so bright, it's almost blinding.

A lot of people here at the resort won't entertain my joy, especially some of the German folk who are MUCH too serious, but they just don't understand why I'm walking on Cloud 9.

I hope there are no shrinks here.  They'll try to label me bipolar.

It's the thought that I don't have to live with pain killers that keeps my fears at bay.

There aren't enough exclamation points on a computer to express how joyful I am.

Our dream home, with less pain.

It's really coming true.

Oh yeah.

Here's our outdoor BBQ for Papi to cook for me.

We also have a guest house.

For chickens.

i take action

home?

This ...

... just may be the view from our bedroom balcony in our Dominican Republic home.

We've put in an offer, so we have to wait to find out what they think about it.

We would go to sleep listening to the waves of the ocean, and wake up to the rooster alarm clock down the road.

It seems surreal!

We saw 7 places yesterday, but more importantly, I haven't been limping.

I kept up with both Papi and the realtor, and didn't have to say, "I'm sorry, I can't walk that fast.  Could you slow down?"

I had shots of pain, but nothing compared to how I feel in Vancouver.

Anyway, this home we saw was ideal.

Utopian.

The 'road' to get there had us drive past 4 families' shacks, and if the chickens, roosters and children running around weren't enough to keep us driving slow, the pot holes from hell certainly did the job.

The moment we pushed the heavy, thick, chocolatey wooden door and hanging vines into the yard, we didn't even have to see the inside of the house for us to know it's the one.

The sand that met the yard's gate was amazingly smooth and rock free, and the waves crashing mere feet from us felt like we'd truly come home.

Inside, the 2 dark tile showers and amazingly bright kitchen gave the 'ah' factor, as did the wooden windows and doors that will protect us from mother nature's windy hissy fits.

It came complete with a hammock ready for lounging in, plenty of room for our Fuzzy Family, chickens, plus a veggie garden.

There was one wee problem though.

We went back a little later just to go look at the house and beach on our own, and dammit if Papi didn't get us into trouble.

You see, this house comes with a housekeeper and gardener.  We can't afford that.

However, she was so bold as to ask in her broken English, "When you live, I work here?"

Papi couldn't say, "I'm sorry, but we can't afford that," so he immediately jumped in with an exuberant, "Yes!!"

Of course, in her reality we are rich, considering she, her husband, their 4 children and chickens live in a shack, that doesn't have more than four rickety wooden walls, and a leaky grass roof.

She could never understand that we'll be living on a tight budget when we're here.

Actually, we would really need someone to watch our place while we're in Vancouver, so there will be employment then, but not all year round.

Then again, I'll need her and her husband to help me learn the ropes of living off the land, PLUS her brother teaches Spanish.

... ahem ... papi!!! get on it!!! ...

They would definitely be part of our Fuzzy Family caretaking crew.

Oh!  She also does massage!

If we get the house, I suppose there would be plenty of options for us to hire her for this and that, or find a way to barter.  I'll have to figure out how to give her the terms of employment.

We absolutely adore her and her husband, who has the same name as my cat.  She got a kick out of that.

Anyway, tomorrow we will hear the counter offer, and until then, the ocean will be my distraction.

Oh, how I've enjoyed the water, as it bobbed my body, lifting my spirits and giving my bitch of a back the strength it needed to make it through the day.

Dios, mio!  We are so fortunate.

i have a bank account with more than enough

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

don't blame the guns. please.

This whole bullshit about 'guns' being the problem in this world is ridiculous and it fucking pisses me off.

Yes.

It's horrible that people were killed in Colorado.

Yes.

It's horrible that gang violence kills the innocent.

Fortunately, in the case of gangs, they also kill each other off, which is a positive.

But 'guns' being banned is not the solution.

Do you really think for a fucking second that violent people who blow others' heads off will obey a fucking LAW that says they can't carry them?

No, only law abiders will follow that rule.

It's not the fucking guns.

It's the fact that the world is going insane.

Look at the Dominican Republic.

Jesus!

They don't need guns.  A dude was decapitated by a machete shortly before our trip there, because he and another guy were fighting over a girl.

That guy didn't die from a gun, he died from a sick human being.

Well, I wouldn't actually call him 'human'.

Here in planet earth, our inhabitants are going crazy.

It's hard not to with the pain and suffering life hands us.

I honestly believe that every person on this tiny planet is suffering in some way, shape, or form.

We all have troubles, but the problem is, there's not enough help for people in crisis, and not enough people to recognize those who may go off.

We've got kids in homes being harmed by the hand of their own parents in the most horrifying ways you could ever imagine, creating the cycle of abuse.

Those assholes don't need guns to fuck people up.

How about we put down those bastards like the rabid dogs they are?

How about the people being killed by cars every day?

Not a hope in hell that our countries are going to ban cars.  Those are lethal weapons that people take for granted while they speed down our streets after the driver has had a few to drink.

Or for that matter, make an illegal U-Turn without looking and hitting this femme on her motorcycle.

Don't get me started on the brainwashing of religious zealots and their self righteous attitude about how they think it's OK to kill.

We're all losing it, and we feel have no control in this life.

People actually believe the right religion or politician will fix things.

Really mother fuckers?!?

The anger I feel for our current Prime Minister, and how one by one, he's taking away all options for help with mental health in our country, sickens me.

Of course, not enough to go nuts and go into a movie theatre to shoot people, but I understand the emotion of not feeling like there's anything I can do about watching our future world go down in flames.

There are too many tragedies right now in this world to start pinpointing 'guns' as the problem.

Guns don't go off by themselves.

Let's help our peoples' mental health.

That will stop the guns from going off.

In the meantime, don't mind me while I run away from the terror of this world and hang out with chickens, goats and donkeys.

i appreciate positive people

dream a little dream with me ...

Oh dear.

We decided to move the cats up to our new floor of the house.

It was a bit of a gong show and Papi was the gong.

Up we went, while protecting our faces from the possibility of becoming The Golden's one eyed kin.

We brought them to the new pee box space.

Immediately, The Bastard Prince was placed in the box and proceeded to tinkle.  It was, in our minds, excellent that he went right away.  We thought we were at a good start.

The Mrs. however, when placed at the top of the stairs, hissed at 'nothing'.

Or perhaps Papi's mother's ghost, or even the ghost of G'pa, but none-the-less, there was nothing we could see worth a kitty spit.

When we were back into the kitchen, hoping everything went well, I noticed it.

Piss.  Allllllllll down Papi's pants.

... no, it wasn't papi ...

The Bastard Prince was so scared of coming up into Psycho Kitty's space that he pissed himself.  I knew he was afraid of him, but I didn't realize just how badly.

We all meet our match in life, and well, it looks like The Bastard Prince is no longer the king of his castle.

In the past, he would even scare the dogs in the neighbourhood wherever he lived.  Not anymore.  It was so sad and pathetic.

Then there was The Mrs.

She made herself at home on Psycho Kitty's tree, and when the loony cat came to say, "Hey!  That's mine!" The Mrs. told him, "Not anymore, bitch!"

It blew me away.  The one I thought was tough is the chicken and vice versa.

Meanwhile, Papi and I have switched spots on the bed now that it's in a different room.

Well, when I heard my alarm go off, I did my usual 'slap around the bedside table to find the alarm', only I almost clocked Papi in the head.

Fortunately, I had removed my eye patch just enough and just in time to see my possible mistake.  It truly would have been a rude awakening for my love.

One thing I can say is, moving up to the bright sunny floor has definitely helped our moods.

The Dungeon Syndrome is leaving me for sure.  Papi actually relaxed last night.

We spent some quality time writing out our 'dream home' list in the Dominican, and Papi had the audacity to laugh at my wishes!

~ land with fruit trees

~ space for goats, chickens, pigs and my donkey

~ walking distance to the beach

~ walking distance to stores

~ gas stove

~ granite counter tops

~ privacy from neighbours

~ a boat moor

Hey!  What's the point of making a 'wish list' if you can't dream big?

That's the point of a 'wish list'.  It's not an expectation!  It's hopes that maybe, just perhaps, those prices will keep coming down and we'll find the home we've always wanted.

One of the houses we looked at when we were there is down by $70,000!!!!!!  It's moved into our price range!

Who knows folks, we just may get what we deserve.

Stranger things have happened.  Remember the time capsule dream list I made in 1999?  I did indeed get a few things on that list.

I wonder what we'll get in paradise?

all the things i want and need come to me

uh-oh.

I think I did too much.

I guess I'm not superwoman.

I suppose resting from a jaw surgery is really important.

Well, my body has informed me of this anyway.

The last time I needed this much sleep was after the motorcycle accident.  I just slept and slept and slept.

I tried to fight the tired and do a regular day, but then the pain in my jaw flared up. 

Yikes!

And now?

Now I'm listening like my body wants me to.  My chipmunk cheeks are a little fuller.

My jaw had it's revenge.

Well, I guess you don't just run around the city by the absolute bumpiest bus route there is.  Which of course, was followed by going to physio, which incidentally was only 2 weeks after jaw surgery.

Ok.

I'm listening.

It's my first surgery.

I didn't know these were the 'rules', but apparently, they are.

So, after I eat some cinnamon and maple syrup oatmeal, then tend to the cleaning of the mess of a mouth, I'm going to drift off for another few hours.

This is how exciting rolls ...

I tend to do this.

I tend to overdo it in terms of my body.  If I get a little bit of energy, I want to use it to it's fullest!

I forget that maybe I should only do one thing, as opposed to all of them.

Oops.

Ouch.

I guess I'll go back to reading about goats 'n pigs 'n chickens.

It sounds like we've chosen the naughties of the animals.  This could be some fun!

i draw all things positive to myself

pick up the phone goddamit!

Well.

I never made it out to receive my share, or witness any ass welts.

I am either; a) still fucking suffering from the virus I caught 3 weeks ago, b) suffering from a different rat bastard virus, or c) going through withdrawal.

If I were trying to conceive a child, I'd say I have morning sickness.

All day.

The only child I'm raising is Papi, so, no, I'm not pregnant.

My money is on withdrawal.

There's a reason why I'm getting that crap out of my system.  It's bad for me.

So, I can imagine that it would be just as mean leaving my body as it has been while infiltrating it.

Instead, I spent the day on the phone.

That was pretty much my day.

It was good though!  I got to speak for 3 hours to My Gratitude Buddy.

We never really get to chat like that all too often.  Life is busy.  But it was a marathon chat.

What I've noticed about myself through that phone call was pretty interesting; I get very introverted at times.

no ... really ... it's true ...

It wasn't always like this, but after the brain injury, I found that I'm not as willing to engage in a conversation like I used to be.

Years ago, my down time was going through my phone and chatting up all the many friends I had.

I let that go after I had 5 minute memory.  It sucks being constantly told, "Yeah, you told me that already."

I retreated, and found that I didn't even want to pick up the phone when it was someone lovely, like my baby sister.  My baby sister and Papi are really the only people I pick up for no matter what.

When My Gratitude Buddy called, I didn't really know I was in need of a marathon call, but I was.

It felt so wonderful to just chat endlessly about nothing.

Well, not really nothing, I talked about fainting goats, green pigs, and Angry Birds.

My Gratitude Buddy laughed and said, "I never pegged you as a pig killer."

I had to remind her that they taunt me when I miss hitting them with the orange bird that puffs when you tap it.  This is enough ammunition to make me want to fly those little fuckers even faster.

Anyway, my point is, that I picked up the phone when it rang.

I chatted and it was lovely.

I got to bond a little more with My Gratitude Buddy.

I even picked up the phone a little later with the G'ma when my wonderful in laws called from Alberta.

... wait for it folks ... the G'ma returns in less than a month ... 

I realized that all I really need to do is pick up the phone when it rings.  You never know what's on the other end.

It could be good.

It could be rewarding.

It could be saying the same thing over and over again to a 96 year old, but it's still good, because it keeps me from isolating.

I think I'm going to make a new rule.  When the phone rings, I'm going to pick it up, even if I don't feel like talking.

Because apparently, that's my mind playing tricks on me.

And we all know that I need to stay one step ahead of my mind, lest that bitch tells me all sorts of lies.

the only mistake that can truly hurt you, is choosing to do nothing simply because you're too scare to make a mistake

It's coming ...

When Papi and I were wrapping gifts for our niece and nephew, The Turkey, The Porkchop and their entourage of family members, I did something that seemed fun & silly.

What I didn't realize is that it was a big step compared to where I was a year ago.

It really is a good feeling to give, and with every piece of tape Papi handed me, we cloaked the gifts with sparkly penguins, sliding down snow packed mountains of love.

On each of the little tags that we so carefully place on a gift, we tend to write who it's from with a feeling of joy, anticipating their eyes showing happiness when they look at who the present was from.

Well, I wrote, "Love Auntie Andréa & Uncle Easton."

May seem like a no brainer to you, but to me, the fact that I effortlessly placed 'uncle' on the card with a great big smile had me surprised at myself.

I do know that once I've accepted something, my brain rests much better, and here is my proof that I'm really doing well with the male transformation.

My family probably didn't even blink an eye at the tag.

I mean, not many of us really do.

We trust that the person who is giving us the gifts will hand it to the correct person, and the carnage of paper flying begins.

Yet, I know it was there.

Papi knows it was there.

My love was thrilled with the prospect that he could now be called 'uncle'.

It seems so strange to be going along with this venture smoothly.

I never knew that I would.  I had a hard time believing I would get over this.

Now that we're settling into our places in the relationship, it's feeling much more sturdy.

I feel confident of the longevity of our time spent together.

There's way less time spent processing the transformation.  It has now been replaced by planning our move to the Dominican Republic.

It's coming!

Our time will be here soon!

Well, within 2 years that is.  Yet, just looking at how fast 3 years went from my motorcycle accident, time truly does fly, even if you're not having fun.

Right now, we're looking at what land we can find for the move.  It's not time to buy, but time to window shop.

The point of telling you this, is that I now feel like this blob/blab is moving toward my own personal journey of healing from my ghosts of torment past, as well as the insanity that will be coming along with our move.

Honestly.

What kind of city folk just decide to move and live off goats' dairy, chickens' eggs, and a veggie garden?

I don't even do well with indoor plants, however, if I'm growing my own food, I'm pretty sure I'll be taking care of my chard, collards and kale with more intensity than I feel for watering a cactus.

Anyway, it really is the time of year to reflect.

The new year is coming.

4 more days of gratitude to bring 2012 in with positive emotions, and fight off the Xmas Meltdown.

I'm grateful we have shelter from the pouring, winter rain.

I'm grateful to be able to see what's good in my life.

I'm grateful that I am loved, even when I get cranky from pain or emotionally sensitive from the pain meds.

I'm grateful that I only slipped up 3 days of eating sugar in this candy filled season, so that my emotions didn't go completely berserk.

I'm grateful that 'you', my imaginary friend, have been here to watch my journey morph from fear into strength.

I'm grateful for 'you', my readers, because if you didn't show me you're here, I would have felt very empty this past year.

I'm grateful I worked hard at getting emotionally better.  It's sometimes difficult, but worth every effort.