silent day

i just realized i never shared episode 38 with you!  here's your sunday sillies a little late

After a few days of grieving heavily for the loss of our little baby-dog, Harley, my time got very busy to help me move on from the sadness and get shit done.

We had to prepare for the village.

It's been an intense week and I have had no time to tell you about everything.

We started off with playing Santa to the children in the village.

But first, we had to drive almost an hour to Puerto Plate to buy the toys.  It was a store Housemaid told us about where the toys are inexpensive and we can get a discount.

That was of course, after the boss finished his chicken.  No talking until his chicken was done.

On the day of giving, we walked out of our yard door to see the entire village of children jumping up and down, arms to the air with tight little fists pumping upon every bounce off the ground.

Of course, Papi and I had Housemaid to help us with wrangling the kids.  As we approached the excited horde of short people, she yelled, "You don't get your presents unless you are at your house!"

Immediately, they ran home to wait eagerly for our arrival.

Later that same day, we were going to give out rum to the adults.  The adults were very insistent about us giving them presents as well.

We also realized we couldn't just give to a few people, that we needed to give a lot more to the rest of the village.

Off we went, credit card in hand and bought a box full of bottles of rum.  Let me tell you, the kids were easy to get back to their houses to wait for their gifts, but the adults?  It was a very insane time.

Grabbing, yelling, frantically wanting their share and trying to get more than we had allotted for for everyone.

Next year, we will be giving out food and care packages instead.

That night, there was quite the party in the village, as we listened to sounds of gunshots.

Well, we thought they were gunshots.

It wasn't until being invited to the party last night that I realized what it was.

Housemaid and Dominican Daddy invited to me the Fiesta de Navidad.

My DR Family fed me a meal, in which they were so generous as to buy special Dominican chicken and rice.

I brought a huge salad, which we topped with the Dominican dressing.

I also brought the grapes, which are like a tradition for the dinner.

Oh, and a few bottles of red wine.

Another tradition is lots of apples.

People are lucky to be able to eat healthy, local, organic produce here, whereas in Canada, these foods are the more expensive of the choices.

Not here.  Instead, junk food is expensive.

Anyway, back to the 'gunshots' I heard.

They have what looks like a bazooka, that is filled with some kind of explosives and they put all kinds of chemicals in and "BOOM!!!" it goes, as I startled with every firing.

Last night, people danced and drank, ate apples and grapes, while sharing their beer with children.

Yes.

Children.

It seems normal to everyone here, but when I saw a father giving beer to his 8 month old baby, it really disturbed me.

What can I do though?  I'm not here to preach about anyone's culture and it seems this is what everyone does with their children.

The party then moved up to the street, where we found the village bar.  Lovely woman serving, who's house is below the establishment.

She invited me in to see her house and while she walked I spoke to her about playing and singing at her bar, reminding her that it would be for free.

It'll be my practise gig when I'm ready in a few months.

Anyway, that has been my week, and rest assured that it was all on video!

Today I settle in for a quiet day, while I wait eagerly to hear from Papi who is somewhere in Vancouver.

And it's a silent day in the village.

The dogs have had nothing to bark at.

i am grateful for the time shared with those who have left to be with angels

All hail the baby sister!

The pain kicked in.

It's amazing how much of a relief I get from the weather in the Dominican Republic.

All I can say is, I am so very grateful my brother-in-law shares his pain meds for his own horrible chronic pain.

Although, I will be suffering through the pain instead of utilizing his offer from now on.

I've had 2 rounds of awesome upchucking, and the bags under my eyes make me look like I am 100 years older.

Classy.

I haven't had to deal with my bitch of a back for 10 months, so it was a shocking reminder of how much pain I was in for all that time.

I really understand the need for morphine, codeine and all the other little pills I took all those years.

Yesterday, I had my family there to push me around in a wheelchair in the snowy streets of Banff, which was an amazing X-Mas gift from the family, not to mention the flight out here they helped pay for.

My 10 year old niece did a good job of pushing me into walls and into the middle of street intersections against the red light.

She loves me.

I think.

My baby sister is so very thoughtful.

She understands my food allergies and tries her best to accommodate me, while at the same time, taking care of her entire family.

She's a good sis.

I can't do too much while I'm lying around, so I just watch my teenage nephew go through the cupboards and fridge non-stop.

Since writing this, he's opened the fridge about 12 times and never really taken anything out.

Now the pantry.

Now back to the fridge again.

Of course, all of this is in between playing on his phone.

He hides in his phone and when he gets in trouble for it, he simply walks over to the fridge and pantry to pretend he's looking for 'something'.

With all the effort it takes to try to fool his parents into believing he's busy, he could actually do something with his time.

Most of the footage I have here is of him: "Look who's on his phone again!"

My baby sister has her hands full.

When she's not yelling at my nephew, she is repeatedly yelling, "No!" to my sugar addicted niece, as she incessantly begs for more candy.

Oh, there goes my nephew again.

He's switching things up and opening both the freezer AND the fridge at the same time.

Moving things around, sniffing something to see if it's any good, and now, putting it right back in again when it was not an odour he was impressed by.

Now, back to the pantry, staring at nothing, picking things up, putting them back down and walking away again.

Wait!

He actually took something out of the pantry!

Cereal!

Not that he's pouring himself any.

He just took it out and left it on the counter while he investigated what's on the stove.

And now, he just put the cereal box in the fridge.

Seriously.

I don't think Papi and I would be able to handle a teenager.

We would lose our minds.

Then again, it seems my sister already has.

i love my family for who they are

winter wonderland

Cold.

Oh, so very cold, and it's not even the cold spell yet.

Everyone is talking about the cold that is supposed to come through.

Off to Value Village we went, me in my super duper special pajamas that are the only thing warm I have for pants, and layer upon layer of t-shirt and sweatshirt.

Some of my baby sister's friends lent me a pair of boots and a jacket.  So sweet!

At Value Village I got 2 pairs of jeans and a sweater dress, new socks, leg warmers and a toque.

I can't believe the size I am now.

Well, I won't be losing any of my ankle weight on this trip.

Wheat free, dairy free cheesecake!  Jeeeeezus it was good.

After all the chocolate I've eaten in the Dominican Republic, I am officially tired of it.

It sits in the cupboard winking at me when I open the cupboard door, but I immediately look behind it for other food.

Can you believe it?  I'm tired of it?

But yesterday, I saw a rice milk chocolate bar!  I had to have it!

No, I will not be losing weight on this trip.

I'm up so early, because I'm still on Dominican Time.  I thought I'd chat with Papi, then I realized, he won't be getting up for some time.

So, I'll tell you about my flight.

When we got to the airport, I was whisked away with a tiny peck from Papi.

They threw me in a wheelchair and stole me.

The people at the counter didn't understand I had a temporary Visa and over charged me for my 'extra time' spent in the Dominican.

Awesome.

Then they had to pull me out of the waiting area to watch them search my bag, because I had coffee.

Perhaps, I was smuggling something, not just bringing the best coffee ever to my baby sister and family.

Squishing every bag, it was important to feel every inch of those plastic casings to be sure it was only coffee.

Done, back I go up to the top to speak with someone who lost their leg in a motorcycle accident.

Even though our injuries were different, we had similar therapy to learn to walk again.  It was quite fascinating to speak with him.

The plane ride was uneventful, but catching my connection?

Something out of the movies.

I swear to mother of baby Jesús that I need a camera crew to follow me for the thrills life hands me.

They were going to make me miss my flight because my first plane came in late, until Adam O. saved the day!

He ran me around the airport, pushing my wheelchair like we were in a chariot race.

Sternly telling everyone I needed to catch my flight, we budged in front of every dirty look there was to receive.

No matter how much I realized that his co-workers had a lot of animosity towards this guy, I kept telling him he was giving me the best customer service, and that the company would hear about it.

I'll tell you, he got me back to my flight, when his boss said it couldn't be done.  On I went.

Then when I got to my sister's house, she washed my clothes and washed the business card I got from him to give him a rave review with his company.

At least I know he's Adam O.

I'll do some digging and figure out how to do this.

Man deserves a commendation.

When I got off the 2nd plane I was the last one off, of course, because they wanted me in the wheelchair again.

My poor baby sister and family were waiting for me at what was 2 in the morning my time, but late enough for them.

This morning I'm over the jet lag and my baby sister is dragging my mother and I to Banff.

Even colder than it is here.

But I'll see moose!!!!!

i feel good about myself

choices, choices

Drummer Boy once told me, "That will make a great song."

He would enjoy a new song that I would write and say, "I knew a good song would come from that shitty experience."

There's always music from tragedy, stress, heartache, ad finitum.

I've been working on so much music and I am half way through my goal of 3 sets of covers.

As I'm playing, I hear the beginnings of new songs.

Only problem is, if I go hog wild and start writing my own music, I'll delay the current goal I'm working toward.

I'm bad enough when I'm learning someone else's music, I get a level of obsession getting inside what they've written.

But when I'm writing my own music?

It's a whole other level.

But, as I'm practising covers for work, I hear my songs coming out.

It's like they're brewing at that spot before the kettle boils.

You hear it's ready to blow, but you want to catch it before the scream offends your air space.

It feels like that.

I just want to jump into writing my own lyrics IN ENGLISH because my biggest obstacle is memorizing the Spanish lyrics.

I feel like my brain is on TurboLearn.

All the damage that happened from the accident is being rewired in the most beautiful, amazing ways.

Learning Spanish through music is probably the very best decision I've made for re-wiring my brain, and helping me on the road to speaking fluently.

I fall in love with the melody, then because I love the song so much, I actually remember the lyrics.

Then, I am able to speak to people with the words I have learned from music much faster, because they have meaning.

More like speaking.

Anyway, it was an accidental good decision.

Bad decisions?

Oh man, how do I even begin here?

How about eating comfort foods while I was healing from the ankle.

No exercise, and comfort foods.

So, I went to the last appointment at the hospital and the guy that pushes us around on the wheelchairs said, "You are fat now," well, I got a tad freaky deaky.

Everyone tried to say he was a joking, but I've noticed people go on about weight here.  No beating around the bush.

Not to mention, I went shopping at the cheap clothes market that I could wear for work clothes, and I would normally be able to hold up a dress and think it fits, so I bought a few.

No, I didn't fit those clothes.

I paraded them in front of Papi, mocking my utter muffin top that has invaded my mid section over the past 5 months and damn, I have some work to do.

I just kicked into high gear of trying to take care of this 'situation'.

I won't go into that.  My eating disorder can take up a whole month of blogging.

But eating really bad foods for 10 months,  5 of those months I've spent on my ass, eating the most fattening possible foods I could to get me through the mania, was not the best of decisions.

I'm going to try chair cardio tomorrow.

If I can tear my ass off the piano bench, that is.

We'll see.

I have a lot of work to do, and I have a ton of music simmering before the kettle blows.

I don't want to lose all my steam to a rolling boil.

I certainly don't want to break the piano bench either.

i am motivated by both successes and failures

move that body!

Don't know what got me.

Since last Tuesday, I've been rather sick.

Enough so, that I've seen a slight decline in the weight I put on after the 3 months of lying around like a bloated manatee from the whole ankle 'thing'.

Virus?  Food from a foreign country?  Parasite from the water?

The sick part of my brain, that good old Anorexia Monster, is telling me this is great, because I'll get back to feeling my normal weight!

But the healthy person in me would rather eat better and exercise to take it off the right way.

However, up until yesterday, every time I tried to move was an immediate invitation to run as quickly as possible to the bathroom.

My phone has been glued to my hands.  You don't want to be stuck in there for half an hour with no puzzles to play.  Ya know?

Yesterday, I just stared out at our beautiful yard we are fortunate to have and fell into an anxiety attack like I haven't had in a long time.

Looking outside.  Stuck near the washroom.  Feeling so weak.

Frozen, because the anxiety had immobilized me.

Like I said before, I am NOT good at staying dormant.

Today I feel a little more strength.

I feasted on an entire bag of Dorito's throughout the day yesterday, minus the scant amount I shared with Papi.

That and all the lime juice I could drink.

For the tail end of the ankle 'thing', I watched to the end of Breaking Bad.

For this stomach 'thing' that got me, I've started on The Walking Dead.

Never really been a fan of zombies, because they don't scare me.

It's reality that scares me.

Yet, everyone seems to like the show, so I thought I'd give it a whirl.  Love it!

Anyway.

I go back to Dream Project tomorrow.  In the next 2 weeks we'll be driving the children full speed toward a performance at the DR Jazz Festival.

They're pumped!

I'll just fill myself with plenty more Pepto to make it through my 4 hours of teaching.

MusicMan told me that he'd be asking the BigWigs for my gas allowance.

I was so grateful that he said that on his own accord.

I wasn't going to ask anymore, but he brought it up, so I feel a little like he really is happy with me being there helping with the kids.

He got a real kick out of me telling him the story about how I thought he no longer had a job there.

Funny enough that he decided to tell more people the silly story.

Oh, how I make a name for myself everywhere I go.

Now I'll be the silly gringa at the school.

Which is OK.  I know who I am.

I've really have nothing more to prove to anyone.

I'm just spinny Andréa, and it makes me a much more approachable person when people know that, and we all know I just want to be loved.

I remember being the Andréa that had a permanent cloud of doom hanging over my head.

I'm just grateful I can laugh at myself and not take myself too seriously anymore.

I have meds to thank for that.

I'm looking out at the ocean today.

I'm sitting at the table, instead of the La-Z-Boy, my favourite tool of the Pit of Doom.

My ankle doesn't hurt from sitting in an upright chair anymore.

The ocean doesn't sound like white noise when you're actually watching the white caps crash against the shore.

It's beautiful.

I am strong enough to walk to that ocean now.

Perhaps today I'll allow the feeling of that gorgeous salt water to wash me clean of these past 3 months of stagnancy.

Move.

With the waves.

Ebb and flow.

i am willing to change my eating habits and i do so easily

Mercedes Day.

So, off we went, back to Santiago hospital for my X-Ray results, and subsequent follow up with the surgeon.

As we were driving The Moca, that hairy-scary road that takes us there, Papi said something idiotic like a typical male, and I, being a typical female, gave him the silent treatment.

You know how it goes.

But there were things I wanted to ask, like, "Why is there so much traffic today?"

And, "How come there are so many children out today?"

It was Tuesday.  You would expect that from a Sunday, but not Tuesday.

I just thought that perhaps there was an important funeral.

People show up in droves for funerals here, and if you're in a hurry, you better calm your hormones, because you are NOT getting past the procession.

Then we got into town, still silent with the bad energy hanging about in the car, and I noticed a few stores closed.

But it's Tuesday!!

The hard working people of the Dominican Republic only shut down on Sunday.

Then another closed store.

And another.

Then a whole strip.

And I finally broke the silence, "Why are all the stores closed?" in such a way that was cold and not very inviting to conversation.

Papi grunted back, "I dunno."

It wasn't until we got to the major store and saw it was closed that we realized there was yet ANOTHER holiday here.

The holidays here rival those of the Jewish holidays!

I don't mind so much, but damn!

We drove for an hour and a half, through the scariest road in the world, with a ridiculous silence between us and pain in my ankle, only to find the hospital shut down.

Of course, nobody would tell us NOT to return Tuesday.

Why would they?

No, no need to inform the foolish gringos that they shouldn't return to the hospital on Tuesday, because it's Our Lady of Mercedes Day.  Everyone knows that!

So, we went to one of Papi's fave restaurants, Pizza Hut, so Papi could have his American pizza, and I could have probably the worst salad I've ever experienced.

Upon sitting, there was an apology from Papi, communication from me, and the mood lifted.

But there was still the drive home to get through.

It was a bit treacherous, as people drink their faces off on Sundays and holidays.

They get drunk ON the holiday or Sunday.

Someone has to tell them of the Canadian way.  You drink the night before, so that you can sleep in, and sleep off the hangover ON the holiday.

Those poor souls get up after a night of drinking and go back to their hard work.

Anyway, we took home a route, that to me, was safer than The Moca, but the amount people that seemed to be playing chicken with us, or driving us off the road was terrifying.

Furthermore, there are no street lights on highways here.

I'm pretty sure this country is going to age me, if it hasn't already.

There is a new 'rule'.

Kinda like when you are going to pick someone up at the airport, you check the flight is on time BEFORE you drive?

Same goes for holidays.

We now check the holiday alerts before we make a move, because those damn holidays spring up all over the place here.

Oh, how you in Canada would like to have this many days off with pay!

We're going to go back to the hospital tomorrow.

I've checked three lists.

There are no holidays.

i learn something new every day

one more day.

"Rest." they say.

They just keep saying I need more rest.

OK.

So, today, I'm going to rest by the river.

We've been invited to a river party.

Chicken.

Potato salad.

One person who speaks English for Papi.

A different view than the bedroom walls and ceiling for me.

We're bringing the lounging chair from the pool for me to lie on like a princess.

Kind of embarrassing.

No matter.

At least I'm getting out of this bed to rest.

Because they keep saying to rest.

Fine.

Carry me to the river and I'll do so.

They better let me have this cast off tomorrow.

My good foot can't take it anymore.

Neither can my spirit.

I think what's getting to me is the fact that I spent so many years lying around after the motorcycle accident.

I fought for years to get up off my ass, but at least then I had good pain meds to keep me from losing my mind.

When we got here, I finally started to live again.

So, take that away from me and you'll have a miserable femme.

I don't want to rest.

I want to live.

I want to do things.

I want to be off my ass.

I did my time after the accident.

This is like a cruel trick.

I finally get to start having a life and I'm knocked back down.

Fuck you, whoever decided this would be a good trick to play on me.

They just keep saying to rest.

I've rested for years.

Tomorrow we find out if they take this bitch off.

I can't wait to make myself a salad and homemade, healthy dressing.

Papi's menu of hotdogs, pasta and toast is killing me.

Tomorrow.

I get to see if I'm done with this punishment.

i express my needs and feelings

BIEN!!!

Well, I guess I'm taking a trip to the doctor after I teach today.

Still swollen.

Still in pain.

I concede.

I was supposed to rest it all day yesterday, but dammit if I didn't go to feed the dogs to find that there was not enough food for the next day.

I had to take a trip to Santiago to buy more.

These are big dogs with big stomaches.

Holy shit!  We are going to go broke feeding them.

At THE MOMENT I realized we didn't have enough food, I had someone else come to the door to try to sell us another one.

And damn, he was CUTE!

But, honestly, we can't afford a 7th dog.

Besides, that poor thing probably wouldn't do so good with The Donkey and The Thug.

He's much too frilly and fluffy, and the way The Thug gives a beat down?  No.  I don't think he'd fare so well.

Not a tough one.

Anyway, no.  No more fucking dogs.

So, I invited Housemaid to go with me for the hour and a half drive to the city.  I really didn't want to go alone.

If something happened, leaving me hobbling around with a fucked up ankle, I would not be happy.

So, we went, and we talked.

I don't know if you really get it, when I say, "We talked."

As in, we had conversations in Spanish all the way there and back.

I was shocked at myself.

It didn't dawn on me until when I was home later, trying desperately to grab a moment to rest that fucking ankle, when Little Angel's dad came to the door interrupting my opportunity to put my foot up.

He was asking for money.

Dude.

Do you know we have 6 dogs and they go through a jumbo Costco size bag in a week?

No.

We can't give you money.

But as he was speaking, I was understanding him so much better than before.

It's finally happening.

I'm seeing the switch into deciphering what people say.

It is taking me so long to interpret, that I thought I'd never hear words.

I'm hearing!

I'm so grateful for all the work I've done.  I'm much slower than others, because I have so much difficulty with my memory, but it's happening.

Did I ever tell you I'm one of 'those' who talks to themselves?

Hey.  I make great company.  I'm just grateful I have dogs, so that when someone catches me, I can make it sound like I'm talking to the hounds.

Anyway, I spoke to myself IN SPANISH!

That made me giggle.

Well, only 8 more sleeps until Papi does the doggy night shift.

Bastards were up at 2 a.m. last night.

I'm so tired.

I miss my love.

i believe in all of my abilities

intensive

Papi likes to give them a show now.

Now, when they're looking over the wall, the only naked body they're donned with is my bare assed, neon white esposo.

Of course they avert their eyes, because they wouldn't want to be caught watching a naked man.

They might be called gay!

And here, that could get you killed.

Here, we don't have peeping Toms.

We have peeping Juans.

And they are always looking over the wall.

They sit back and watch Doggy TV, while waiting for the gringa to come on out in the buff.

No more.

I have 3 bathing suits.

They're in rotation.

It seems I live in them now.

In Vancouver, at the end of a long day, I would come home and get into warm, cozy pajamas.

Here, I come home, strip down and throw on a bikini.

I dip in the pool, not to cool myself there, but so that when I come straight back out, I'm refreshed while I'm soaked.

Sometimes, I put a sarong on, if it's not too hot, otherwise, I just allow myself to walk around in my bikini and ignore my body.

We don't have many mirrors here.  It's good for me.

Two days ago it was 100!!!!

Yesterday was a little cooler.

I could tell it was cooler as we all walked to the restaurant.

I've been going to lunch with the kids at Dream Project while we're on the end of season music intensive.

The kids are having a lot of fun, but then again, so am I.

They were so thrilled to hear me play and sing Vivir Me Vida.

A gringa!

Playing salsa music!

MusicMan has been leaving me alone with the kids here and there.

He's easing me in slowly, allowing me to dip my toes in, preparing me for September, perhaps.

However, as SOON as he'd leave the room, they'd erupt into nutbars, singing and dancing, jumping on the ceiling, doing back flips off the chairs, asking me, "Play the song, again!"

Alas, it's time to get firm with the little buggers.

Up until now, I've just been the 'nice gringa'.

They're finally using my name now instead of 'gringa'.

I've been 'gringa' for them, for kids in the hood and anyone who doesn't know me.

'Gringa'.

All the time.

With the occasional tiny tot who looks up and says, "Blanca!"

I think it's funny.

Anyway, for a few days now, I've been eating Dominican food, and damn, it's good.

But not good FOR me.

It's already taking it's toll.

I went home after teaching yesterday and tried to accomplish something, but passed out in a wheat and rice coma.

Now I feel like a bloated manatee.

One more day of music intensive and Domincan food, then it's back to eating salad and exercising.

And more music to learn.

i stay on a healthy eating plan and maintain my healthy weight easily

someone pissed someone off

I have more gratitude today than most days.

Some of my readers bought me coffee.  Lots of coffee.

And we're not talking a gas station special, either.  I mean an organic, fair trade, extra large, triple shot soy latté, with extra whip and sprinkles on top.

Oh, AND a bag of beans to take home with me.

We now have enough coffee money to last us the 20 days we have to wait for more coffee money.  It's a good thing living here is inexpensive.

I know I sent personal thanks to everyone, but still, I want to say thank you again, because you have no idea how grateful I am.

Papi got upset with me, because he doesn't like when people ask for money, but I told him, "Look, I've been writing a blog a day, almost every day since 2010.  If I want to start asking for donations for the entertainment that is YOU & I, then so be it.  I'm not telling people to pay me to read my work.  I'm just saying if you like it, and feel so inclined, buy me a coffee."

Some people really like it.

Some people who can afford to, may want buy me a coffee to show it.

Others write nice comments or private emails expressing themselves with their own words, about my words.  Either way, I'm grateful.

Anyway, I shared my coffee money with Prince Papi so he could go buy his OJ.

Should've seen him prance off to the city our village is considered part of; Gaspar Hernández.  Now are you complaining about me earning a few donations from my daily writing Papi?

I was a little worried though.

The day we emptied our credit cards, I had tried to drive The Carpenter to get more supplies, only we were diverted when we saw a rather large gathering, police and TV cameras.

Upon reading more on the DR1 Forum, it looks like someone from Sosúa got murdered then dumped in Gaspar.  Normally, I equate Gaspar with Whalley in Surrey, but upon looking at the stats of crimes in Canada, it looks like I should be equating it to Prince George!!

Back to the recently departed.  He was not a local, he was an Italian expat.

I have the feeling he may have earned the beatings.  We were brave enough to look at the pictures after the fact.  This was definitely personal.

He wasn't in the drivers seat of his car when he was found, he was in the back, so it seems he was killed somewhere else and dropped in Gaspar.  You don't go pissing people off here.  It WILL cost you your life.

He was hanging out of his fancy SUV like one of the slack, dead geckos I find in the house periodically, only intensely bloodied.

I think with the extreme beating he took, they will have to use his car for identification.

There was also other woman recently, a French Canadian, who was treating her employee horribly.

Looks like he had enough and killed her too.

I'm happy to say that we treat our workers as best we can, not out of fear, but out of acknowledgement of their work.  We feed them when we have extra, I put my water machine outside so that they can have cold water while they work and we bend over backwards to make sure they know how much we appreciate all they do.

Even if it means I drag my lazy ass outside to fill up on my own water, I don't care, because they're happy.  It's so nice when they're happy.

Even the crankiest man has become my friend, and today, he made sure my ripe papaya was plucked before it died.

Most people will just put the jug of water out and let them fend for themselves, but I can't do it.  They deserve cold water.

Normally, when the money is flowing a little better, in the afternoon they get a treat; ice tea, juice, soda or beer.

So hopefully, we won't be getting beaten any time soon.

Especially now, because the village knows we're broke.  Word travels fast when people are broke, because there's no point asking for anything.

We have nothing to steal when we're out and about, short of some coffee money.

Anyway, showing you like my entertainment feels like a standing ovation, and that just feels grand.

It's good to know that when I give, sometimes, I receive.

The angels are working.

But I still need a job.

However, it will not be in Gaspar Hernández.

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

rubbish!!!

... your sunday sillies are HERE as for some reason, blogger can't find them.  i'll update later when it's behaving ...

I have 3 ways to beat the garbage problem so far, but it looks like I found a fourth.

First, I found a local who can use all my glass.  I've been saving the jars we use from pasta sauce, or ready to drink juices that we seem to drink aplenty in this heat.

The Housemaid knows someone who could use them to sell their wares, so with ABSOLUTE glee I put them into a bag and handed them over.

Then, I emailed the 4 people I know here who are also fortunate enough to have the money to buy ready made foods and drinks from a store, sold in glass jars.

I'll be collecting them for these folks, even I don't know who the vendors are.

Hopefully, I'll find enough people to do the same, that word will spread and other vendors will want them as well!

The second way, is after the fiesta, I learned that Our Favourite's family has pigs.

Pigs like veggie scraps.

So, I have eliminated produce scraps from the garbage, as I save them and bring them over to the pigs.

It also gives me an excuse to visit those little sty dwellers.  How I love them!  It will be a sad day when I notice one 'missing'.

Anyway, I don't have a composter here, and I'm still getting used to plain old watering of plants!

Maybe one day I'll have one, but for now, it doesn't fester in my garbage, becoming a watery mess, seeping through the bag into the bottom of the can, and the pigs get more food.

Third, I've been saving all of Papi's 1/2 gallon orange juice cartons ...

... again ... boy do we go through a lot of juice here ...

... and cutting an opening in the side, and saving them for more veggie garden space.

I'm a little afraid I now have more garden boxes than I can think of what to do with, so perhaps I'll give them to people in the village for their own little gardening projects?

I dunno.  But I keep saving them.

Then!  I had the problem of Papi's plastic pop bottles.

What to do with those gargantuan piles of trash that took up half the casita because my love has a soda addiction?!?!

Well, I thought I'd put them outside our door in a box and see if someone would take them.

Someone did!  So, I'm saving my garbage from a lot of stuff right now.

There's one problem.

We're not changing our garbage as quickly as we were, so the throw aways from that damn fish I cooked yesterday are festering in the garbage, and it's only half full.

It will take a few more days to get through this garbage bag before I can remove it from our space, unlike how we were going through one bag in two days prior to now.

I'm terrified to throw anything new away, as when the trash can opens, the stench of fish remains permeate throughout the house for a good 10 minutes.

I didn't have the time to ask Our Favourite's dad if pigs eat fish before I chopped that bugger up, so in my can it went.

I'm saving on garbage space, but stinking up the whole house.

Something that I realized as I went to cook that fresh fish from my Pescado Pal, I've never prepared a fish before.

I've seen it done a few times, but without hands on training, well, I'm definitely less than a pro.

I went through 3 knives before I found a suitable one to cut the head and tail off.

Never mind the spiky things on it's spine that were jabbing me every move I made.

Definitely good to ward of predators in the ocean.

Warding me off just fine.

I didn't do a very good job of removing the meat from the bone, but after all the trouble I went to with that food, I had a nice little meal and felt so good for having the fresh protein in my blood system.

But of course, I ate chocolate while I cooked it.

Now, I just need to find someone who wants used paper, wet animal food tins and pop cans, and plastic containers, like that of the cashews we buy every time we're in Santiago.

Bit by bit, I'm at the start of something.

Maybe one day it will be big.

i am filled with success

mañana never comes

This power thing is really getting at me, considering we just spent thousands on a new inverter so we could have power.

I'm at the 'fuck it' point and if I had time to sleep all day, I'd be poppin' clonazepam right along side Papi.

Today, I jumped in the shower as soon as I saw the street power on, and managed to get a shower in mere minutes before the electricity and water were off again!  I'm clean!

When we would have a power outage in Vancouver, it would make the news, "No power!!!!!!!  People living with candles!!!!  Oh the horror!!!"

Yeah.  For a few hours.  Try a few days at a time, ongoing for a few months.

We had a light show the other night.

Power would come on for 2 seconds where all the security lights in the yard would turn on, then off again for another 10 minutes, alerting the bandidos that we were fair game and probably would be sleeping with the windows open, making us an easy target.

If I filmed it and sped it up, it would be like strobe lights.

When I call Mr. Sincere to say it's still not working, I get 2 responses, "Really?  No power?  I fixed it," and then "OK, Mañana."

Everything is 'mañana' here.  Everything.  The only problem is, it seems that 'mañana' never comes.

Somewhere in this is learning for me.

What am I supposed to learn?  Tell me and I'll go on the accelerated classes.

I'd love to have time and energy to just meditate and exercise all day to ward off the depression.

I don't need electrical power for that, and my body needs some release of stress and bad food due to no energy to cook properly.

However, I'm too busy driving around workers to hardware stores and waiting in lineups at the bank for 30 minutes, because we can't take enough from our credit cards on the ATM.

There is no, "I'm just going to the bank.  Be right back."  No, it's more of a day trip.

First, we have to drive forever to get there, because we're rural, then we've waited our turn in the line, the teller counts everything out by hand, because their counting machines will be fixed 'mañana'.

So he counts as I count with him, then he writes.  He counts again, I count again, then he writes.  He types one thing into the computer and then we count again and he writes.  Then someone comes over and approves it something gets entered into the computer, something gets written down and he counts it one last time to prove to me that it's the right amount.

This is all in between the moments people feel that they'd like to have a personal conversation with the co-worker next to them while we're waiting.  It's kinda comical, and I wouldn't care if I wasn't needing to find 'time' for myself instead of waiting at the bank.

Papi keeps saying all this will end.

I believe I'm in purgatory and I'll be in renovation hell for the rest of my life.  The sewage flood has nothing on this one.

It's also really hard to feel so alone in the daytime with all this.  The only people I have to speak to in the daytime speak Spanish and are not here for a hang out or friendship.  They're here to work.

However, while driving one worker to the store today, I did break down into tears when I was asking if he knew a really good electrician, as in REALLY professional to fix this job once, and get it done without having to pay through the nose every day we wait for 'mañana' to come so we have power.

Papi is so depressed, he just sleeps all day to escape it.

Papi says, "Go online and talk to friends."  You're not listening.  With what magical power will I find that magical internet?

He says, "Make new friends here."  I don't really have downtime for that yet.

When I do, it's at night when I'm so exhausted I can't even find the energy to say a word to anyone.  I just stare and drool.

When I have true time for the work of making new friends, it will mean that all this mania has ended, and I won't really NEED new friends at that point, it will just be a cherry on top.

I need my friends now, while I'm losing my mind from the lack of creativity, exercise and proper eating and loneliness.

I'd also like to feel like the rest of the pretty girls here who always look so clean with fancy clothes, fixed up hair, made up faces and smiles because they got enough sleep.

Yesterday, I seriously walked around with what looked like a Marge Simpson hairdo on my head.  A true fire hazard.

Take me away.

i am highly motivated to exercise my body as i find exercise fun

Gratitude List, Day 8/10
1. I am grateful for electricity and water.
2. I am grateful to keep searching for happiness, even if it's not here right now.
3. I am grateful for anti-depressants keeping me from completely going over the edge.
4. I am grateful for the puppies to make me laugh.
5. I am grateful for the patience for the puppies.
6. I am grateful for the good souls who allow me to vent without judgement.
7. I am grateful to be learning hard lessons, as I know one day they will pay off.
8. I am grateful to have enough food and a stove that works even when power is off.
9. I am grateful for a really good bed to allow my back to sleep.
10. I am grateful to get a few hours a day to spend with Papi.

Water, water, everywhere

Water was coming dripping through various parts of Casa Paraíso.

Oh so pleasant.

We knew we needed a new roof, because we saw leaking when we first moved in, but it seems that the damage up there has accelerated.

I scrambled throughout the house to find any empty dog dish, bowl, and bucket I could find.

If I didn't have the drops under control with the 7 tubs I found, I would move on to the pots from the kitchen.

Last night, the trick was to find a place where I could write my gratitude list to My Gratitude Buddy, my MC Guru and the Sweet Ex on my laptop, without it being bombarded with rain.

Don't get me wrong.

I actually like the rain here.

It's warm and feels more like a fresh shower than in Vancouver, where it feels like an all out attack of personal space.

Not to mention, when it rains, I get happy for a few reasons.  First, the rain water pulls all the dirt to the bottom of the pool, making it much more clear and easier to get the dirt out.

Now, if only we could work that damn machine to clean out the dirt, we'd be in business.  Until then, I hover on top on floaty devices like a princess.

Anyway, back to the rain.

Second, I get happy because my trees are being fed.  They're new and need a lot of water.

So when I hear the rain teeming down in a full force monsoon, I am pleased.

It also means I don't have to do the watering.  I like watering, because I talk to my trees and tell them how much I love them.

Yet, I hate the sand fleas biting me and leaving me looking like I have smallpox or some other disease, confined to the knees down.

So, there we were dodging raindrops in our bedroom, when we decided to do a bit of budgeting.

Mostly because we now have to have a new roof.  That shit isn't cheap.

Do we go with the plastic tiles?  Or ceramic?  Ceramic would have a better resale value for the house that's for sure.

However, looking at our budgeting, we realized we've gone broke.

Good news is, we really have everything we need now.

All the necessities.

Papi set out with a certain amount of money put aside for getting started with and we've only gone over by a few grand.

... ahem ... the roof ...

After paying for the roof, the landscaping to fix what the pool people destroyed and the rocks out front to save use from the wrath of the waves, we need to live simple.

No problem!  Everything is fine!

Until I realized that my iMovie program stopped being my friend, and I still have to buy an editing program, plus I need a monitor and keyboard so that I can make music again.

Seriously.

We are a little stressed out for money.

No matter.

Once I get my garden up and going, between the veggies and the fruit trees, we won't starve.

The dogs are Dominican.

They're used to rice.

And hey, we haven't been able to wash our clothes for 2 weeks, because our washing machine we just bought doesn't work.  We're starting to look like street people and we're getting used to that too.

'Dirty' in Vancouver has NOTHING on the DR.  We get one wear out of clothes before they look like we've rolled around in the mud.

Especially with The Donkey jumping on us all the time.

However, being broke is not a problem when you have a beautiful view, doggy TV and a pool to de-stress in.

'Broke' is going to be ok.

For the first time ever in my life, 'broke' looks pretty swanky.

And the hammock swings.

my wealth is increasing more and more now

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

dog mania

I need a vacation from my baby sister's vacation.

We're quite busy.

Not to mention, I'm eating the worst foods.  All my allergy foods, and now I'm kinda in addiction mode.  No problem.  Veggie day today.  All day.  Only veggies.  That will take care of that!

So, it wasn't a surprise to me when I found there was a bit of a Hurricane Andréa sighting in the house this morning.

It didn't help that I had the Housemaid come trying to get more money out of us this morning.

We had made the mistake of feeling sorry for her, and decided we would use her to get the rocks we so desperately need for our front area to protect us from those waves.

Those waves are CRAZY today!  Our yard will be washed away if we don't get a barrier.

But again yesterday, she tried to tell us we need to pay off the authorities in order to do it.

I just looked at her and said, "Fine.  No more money.  No more Marina.  No rocks."

I find it 'interesting' that she returned this morning, saying there was no need for Mr. Extortion now.

Somehow, she got 'permission', which was explained to me while I was trying to do my morning routine today.

I think I need a sign on all the doors.

"Do not disturb the gringo while she's eating breakfast.  There will be swift consequences.  It is her blog time."

So, I'm doing my blog after the fact, but, like I said, makes for a bitchy, Pissy Face.

Anyway, I'm also a little tired from trying to keep up with my baby sister and family.

Today, they're on an excursion, so we're going to pick up another dog.

I mean, what else should we be doing other than picking up another dog?

She's only 4 months and should prove to be a GIANT hound.

She's an Irish wolfhound crossed with a rottweiler, so, imagine a really tall, bearded rottweiler.

She's another rescue.  Well, here in the Dominican Republic, almost all the dogs are rescues.  Not too many people buy their dogs from breeders.

Except Mr. Richy Rich next door.  He OBVIOUSLY got his 3 rottweilers from a breeder.

Fine dogs those ones.  They walk like a school of fish.  Their rottweiler asses switch back and forth, in an equal, graceful gait, with every gargantuan step they take.  Mouths open in a half smile, heads turning in tandem from any noise that might be grabbing their attention.

Gorgeous!!!

Anyway, we're good with mutts and Dominican dogs.

So, while my sister is out giving candy and school supplies to the Haitian village kids, we'll be bringing home another dog.

The people at AAAS were grateful that we tried out Mr. Majestic.  Now they have excellent information about him, so that they could market him for the right family.

It made me feel so much better.  It felt like we weren't just dropping off a dog because we gave up.  We were giving some family the proper information so that he could be placed in a home where he gets the right attention, and perhaps doesn't have to feel like he's failing all the time.

How horrible it must be to always be told you're doing the wrong things?!?!

He'll go to a family where he'll be the greatest guard dog, be told he's wonderful and live happily ever after.

Old Ghost Face is doing so much better now!  She's come up for cuddles, and even came into the house for 10 minutes.

Well, not really on her own.

Papi sorta 'lovingly' dragged her in to let her know she's allowed.

The visit didn't last too long.  I don't think she's ever been in a house.

But here we are.

Dog mania.

Dogs.

Nothing but dogs.

I'm in heaven.

healthy foods taste better

my padded room ...

Do you have troubles understanding what an eating disorder is?

Here.

Let me help you with how insane it can be.

I have an allotted amount of chocolate for each day in my cupboard.

That right there is part of an eating disorder.  Limiting how much I allow myself.

Anyway, it gets MUCH more entertaining.

Then there's the fact that I won't allow myself to eat it before 5 o'clock.

If I eat it before 5, then I will just obsess for the remainder of the day about the rest of the chocolate that is in the cupboard and will eat everything else I can get my hands on, even though all I really want is the chocolate, so I try to fill myself up with other things until I'm bloated and sick to my stomach to fill the void that which is the chocolate.

So, I try to eat super healthy until it's chocolate time.  After that, all hell breaks loose.

However, having said that, I have to eat it before 6, otherwise the caffeine will keep me up.  There's this magical 5 - 6 pm time that is like my happy hour.

Seriously, I might as well just stick to the rules and all will go much smoother.

Furthermore, I don't allow myself any more than the allotted amount of chocolate, or I will:

1) have too much sugar in my system creating Candida, then,

2) obsess about what I see in the mirror, then,

3) get on the 'wtf, I already ate that much, I might as well eat the whole damn thing' wagon, then, 

4) eat all the chocolate in the cupboard and have no happy hour the next day, which just sucks, then, 

5) get sick from too much so that I'm lying in a tub like a beached whale, calling my friend to say, "Omg.  I'm so sick.  I just couldn't stop eating it!  And now I can't move from the tub or I'm going to hurl."  (true story)

Anyway.  Among all of the above is also the incessant nattering, the worst of which starts around noon.

"We get chocolate in a while!"  It says.

Then around 1 o'clock.  "I can't wait until we get chocolate!  Here!  You better eat some veggies, brown rice and tahini to calm yourself."

Then around 2, "Oh man.  I don't know if I can hold out much longer!  Here!  Have some goat cheese!  Stat!!"

Around 3, I can be rational and say to myself, "You know, if you eat that chocolate, you're going to be really tired from a sugar crash and you won't get anything done."  That curbs me for a while, because the reality of the mid-day crash is enough to not allow me to make it worse.

But at 4, I seriously start to lose it.  "Omg!  I can't wait much longer.  How about we just eat it now and 'behave' for the rest of the day?!?!?!"

It's at this point that I start to snack on whatever I can find that is snack-able to try to convince my brain that the chocolate has to wait, or make the biggest plate of veggies in the world to keep my mouth busy.

At 5, I RIP THE PACKAGE OPEN AND GORGE IN A PANICKED STATE THAT LOOKS LIKE A COUGAR WHO JUST CAUGHT HIS PREY AFTER NOT EATING FOR A MONTH!!!!!

By 5:10, it's done, and I'm sad that I have to wait another 24 hours before I get to have more.

For the rest of the evening however, I must fight my brain off about the chocolate and remind myself that it just isn't going to happen.

Not to mention, my sugar crash usually keeps me down for the count, and I don't much feel like moving anyway.

This is how I live.

Every day.

This is only part of an eating disorder.

The obsession is manic and I have no control over telling it to shut the fuck up.

I could stop the obsession by abstaining from chocolate all together.

Yes!  I could!

Which I've done in the past.

But I'm in the Dominican Republic people!!!!  The best chocolate and coffee in the world!!!  Why would I want to deprive myself?!?!?!?

So, I obsess.

It must be worth it.

I keep doing it.

i learn from my mistakes

got bugs?

Well, that some some weird strange bug.

I'm not talking about this one:

 or this one:

 or this one:

 or this one:

 or this one:

... which was probably the one that was on my head the other day.

... shudders ...

I'm talking about a virus.

We're not used to the viruses and bugs here in the Dominican Republic.

Papi had it first.

I thought it was just the fact that he was brushing his teeth with dirty well water, but it was a flu type thing.

Then I got it.

It started out like heartburn.

I never get heartburn, so that was odd enough in itself.

Then the headache came, and finally the nausea, fever and weakness.

Ouch.

I was afraid to get up today, because I didn't want to face the sickness, but somehow, I feel better.

My Eternal Friend had told me that when she moved to Guatemala, she was sick the first year non-stop and not just ordinary sick.  REALLY sick.

We're not used to the viruses in other countries.

Papi was down for the count for a good 3 days.  Looks like mine only lasted a day.

Perhaps it's because I exist on more than pop and Pringles, my love?

Also, it may have been the fact that I'm eating raw garlic non-stop.  That will build your immune in a jiffy.

I also wasn't sure if they had vampires here, so garlic was a good idea for that as well.

The bats are in abundance here.

Papi hates bats.  I LOVE them!!!!!  They're so damn cute!  Those little noses, eyes and ears are too much!!!

And the males will open their wing to cover up their mate when an intruder comes near.

Such chivalry!

Reminds me of Papi.  Always the gentleman.

Except for last night, while I was sick and asked for my favourite, white trash, gross out Papi meal; rice pasta with pretend butter and bacon bits.

He was too busy being engulfed in Facebook chats and left my food cooking until it was a pile of rice pasta sludge.

"I'm sorry honey!  I'm having 2 important conversations at one time!!!"

I ate it anyway.

It's not like I had the energy to get up and do anything for myself.

Besides, I was so hungry after not eating enough all day that it tasted like a delicacy at a fine restaurant.

Amazing what you'll eat when you're hungry, no?

i fill all physical appetites in physically healthy ways

living.

your Sunday YouTube show:

Goddam it's the little things.  Seriously.

I found tahini.

Now, this may not seem like a big deal to you, but it is to me.

It means I'm one step closer to eating on my food plan.

It means that even though I can't steam my veggies yet, I'm still making veggies and brown rice and having my damn tahini sauce that I love so much, giving me an extra boost of iron, calcium and protein.

I have to tweak the sauce recipe a little, because I haven't found wheat free soy sauce, but I'll get there.

Yesterday, I ate massive plates of veggies and brown rice with tahini sauce without any care in the world.  Between the good veggies I'm seeking out and the yoga, I can safely say the Anorexia Monster has flown back to Vancouver.

Yoga.

Looking at the ocean.

That'll heal ya good.

Then there's the freedom to drive our car and get necessities.

Like tahini and Dominican chocolate.

I'm still on the Dominican chocolate.

Life's to short to not eat Dominican chocolate.

I still need to find baking powder so I can make fresh corn meal muffins instead of buying $10 loafs of 15 slices of very thin wheat free bread.

Once I've established the perfect corn meal breakfast muffins, I'll practise making bread out of brown rice using flour I've made from my very own 'ridiculous' Vita-Mix that Papi laughed at me for bringing.

This week, my raised veggie garden gets built.  Then the fun of learning how to grow my own veggies begins.

I also have been able to play my bass for 3 days.  This is making my brain function better.

Like everything else that was in the Sosúa storage, my practise bass caught a little of the mould.  I haven't opened my performing bass yet.  I'll get there.

I boiled the strings, cleaned her off and put WD-40 on every shiny piece possible.

I lovingly stroked them with a wand of a Q-Tip and then lubed up the strings a little too.

This sea air is going to kill all my instruments, but I'm searching for preventative tips and WD-40 is a great one.

Then I played.

Then my heart filled.

Then I remembered why we're here.

Then I realized I no longer sit and watch TV as my entertainment, because I'm free to move around and be active.

Then I realized, that after 4.5 years of struggling through the after effects of my motorcycle accident, I'm finally living.

Then, all the stress, fear, anxiety and culture shock just flew away, being lifted by the ocean air into the mountains, where the leaves from those luscious trees would clean it and recycle it back into clean, positive oxygen.

Music, yoga & healthy food.

Oh!  And Dominican chocolate and coffee.

It's taken a month, but I'm now feeling like I'm at the cusp of living the life I wanted.

I'm living without pain killers.

I'm living without crippling pain.

Living.

I am living.

Everything else is just gravy.

i am encouraged by every success

waiting is the hardest part.

Oh, our car.

So, we waited a few weeks for it to get fixed and then yesterday, were very excited to hear that it was actually on it's way!!!

It was coming from the city of Santiago, which is about an hour drive from our tiny, rural village of Las Canas, which is so small, it isn't even Google-able.

At around noon, we were told it was on it's way.  We waited the hour, then waited a few more.

We couldn't leave until they got here, not to mention, the plumber/electrician was coming back with our goodies to fix our sewage leak and our stove, so we were stuck here for that reason as well.

Plumber/electrician dude never showed up.  We're still waiting.

If we weren't waiting, we would have gone into town in a cab/bus to get some food, but instead we just stayed put with no working stove to make even rice with.

We thought that maybe, perhaps, they had just stolen our car and all the money we'd given them so far.  We've run out of a trust, and were starting to think the worst, like maybe they were just selling our parts of our car while we wait.

It was about 5 pm when they finally showed up, and we realized all the drama we were making out our car to be going through was wrong, and that we could actually trust our new mechanics, who come as a duo.

Poor guys were halfway up the Moca when they ran out of gas.

They had to call friends to help them get enough gas to get it to the shop, which is much closer than our house.

Now it was time to go pick it up from their shop/house.  Off all 4 of us went, crammed in the little 4 cylinder Toyota pickup, circa 1970, three in the front, one in the cargo area.

By the time we got to our car, it was dark.

I had learned it's not safe to drive in rural areas when it's dark, but I didn't realize just how terrifying it really was going to be.

It's black on those roads with no street lights, and you can't see the edge of the concrete where it dips off into creeks, cows and donkeys.

Not to mention, people walk on the side of the road, with no care of how close they are to traffic, and you don't really see them until you're up their asses.

Furthermore, people drive without headlights, including motorcycles and scooters, so they too are a target for your vehicle.

Oh, then there's the people who just trust you not to hit them as they cross from one side of the street to the other.

Don't even get me started on the dogs who wander aimlessly.

We hadn't driven very far before we realized our radio was gone.

We could've sworn there was a radio in that car when it left our house, as it was tied to a scrawny rope behind that little Toyota pickup, to be towed to the mechanics house/shop.

However, we thought, if that was all that got stolen from the car, so be it.  At least we found the rear view mirror in the armchair console.

There is no outside door handle for me to use, so Papi has to open it from the inside.  Oh, and the window doesn't work from my side either, so I'll be asking Papi to roll and unroll as I please.

The good news is, our car no longer smells like a rancid polecat.  They cleaned it up really nice.

The better news is, it is so rough looking that we will not look like tourists.  We'll fit in quite nicely now.

Papi has never owned a vehicle so meager.  As I giggled at Prince Papi's dismay, he asked, "Well, have you ever owned something so ghetto?!"

I smiled, "A few times."

It's a rite of passage.  Every person in this lifetime gets to drive a beater.  It's law, unless you're rich.

He'll soon get used to it and he'll see that it doesn't have to be shiny and pretty for it to get us around.

Anyway, today, we were supposed to go get the placard to drive it legally.  You need some kinda little sticker that shows it's your car, or the police will pull you over and extort you for money.

In came the mechanic at the Dominican Time of 10:30 (he did say he'd be here at 9 a.m.), and we were all set to go get the placard, when he told us we needed a particular piece of paper in order to do so.

We don't have that paper.

Why?  Because the original owner hasn't gotten off his ass to send it to our lawyer.

But hey!  Our new honest mechanics told us they have our radio in the shop, so that nobody would steal it while they worked on our car.  They said they'll put it back in later.  We have found some good people.

So, Papi went back to bed and I'm chasing puppies around while we spend another day in forced relaxation.

Damn good thing the view is so beautiful.

i never know what amazing, incredible person i will meet next

leave me alone.

The puppies are free.  The doors are closed.

We have one man coming back to fix the filter on our house water, but that's really it for today.

I woke up and opened every window and door in our house and smiled at Casa Paraíso and it was a bright shiny day.

It was at that moment, that I realized just how uncomfortable I am with strangers in my space, and just how much I've learned not to trust people.

I know that when I had roommates, it was hard for me to keep Hurricane Andréa under wraps, and the demon horns from sprouting up every time I didn't like something.

Maybe it's because I grew up in small spaces with my mother and sister?

I remember the first time I was the happiest was when I lived in a dark, dank, mouldy basement suite in East Van.

I didn't care how awful it was and that there were mushrooms growing out of the walls in the bathroom.  I was happy because I had my Dearly Departed Gypsy, my piano and my very own space.

Now I see it.  I can live with Papi and animals, but that's about it.

Can you imagine what a crabby old bitch I'm going to be in the old folks home?  I'll probably be that old fart hiding in my room yelling, "Get the hell out!" when someone knocks on my door.

That's if I make it that far without doing myself in with all the stress I put myself through.

Yesterday, I obsessed all day long about the rest of the chocolate that was in the cupboard.

It called me.

I kept ignoring it until the little voice in my head said, "You know, if you eat the chocolate, it won't be here anymore and you can stop obsessing about it!"

So I ate it.  Then berated myself.

However!  I did exercise and that made me feel stronger and gave me hope that I will feel good in my skin once more.

There was also one image that I remember seeing in the past that came up on Facebook yesterday.  It seems to help me every time, and somehow, comes along at the moment I need it.

Leave it to Marilyn to save my brain from insanity.

She reminded me of a time when I was close to 150 lbs and I was completely made of mighty muscle.

I was boxing then.  I was strong.  I had such big biceps that the sleeves of my t-shirt were tight against my arms, yet I had no unnecessary fat on my body and loved myself for working so hard at being so sturdy.

My friend asked me very sweetly, "Just curious, but how much bigger do you need your arms to be?!?!"

I had a reminder from one of my great Blogger Friends yesterday, that he loves his lady no matter what size she is and that nobody really likes to look at a skinny old bag.

All the strangers are gone from our yard.  Our doors and walls are up.  Our pool is still being treated for the mud water, but soon, very soon it will be functional and my life will be filled with exercise.

Today, I stare out at the ocean as I write every word in this blog in my serene space.

Today, I felt like we were actually going to have the life we desire here.

Today, I woke up with a new beginning, and more silliness to continue editing on our YouTube show for its Sunday airing.

I keep being reminded of who I am and what I need to be comfortable.  I'm learning so much about myself in this move.

I am grateful for the lessons, and the fruit ice that I made yesterday to keep my sweet tooth curbed.

What a difference a day makes, how amazing is it to be reminded by mi esposo and my friends that being loved has nothing to do with my size.

it is easy for me to stay on my food plan to maintain a healthy weight