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

i have a racist dog

I thought my week off would be relaxing.

So far, I'm more exhausted than when I was working.

I didn't even have a moment to write yesterday.

Furthermore, I now need to add having a few catnaps into the mix.

Remember those little pills the vet gave me for the dog bite on my hand this week?

I had some left over.

They came in hand-y ...

... i know ... so cheesy, eh ...

... as I've sprained my ankle, while trying to MANUALLY open the 'automatic' garage door.

We put up a higher wall to keep those damn dogs out of the garage, but it didn't work.

They just get up on top, emulating the goats I've always wanted.

Anyway, as I was pushing that enormous, heavy, wood garage door closed, I fell off that damn wall and sprained my ankle.

Oh, my lack of balance.  Thank you brain injury.

I tried to just tell myself I'm being a wimp about it, ignoring it, and going on with my meagre time I seem to have.

I guess that was a really bad thing to do.

It swelled up and was MORE than enraged with me.

Guess I chose the wrong day to go limping around Puerto Plata to shop with Housemaid.

We stopped to for lunch at a Chinese Dominican restaurant, and as I ate my chicken fried rice, I noticed my ankle was a little more swollen for my liking, so I took one of the pills Dr. Bob had given me.

The drive home was quite chancy.

I thought I'd fall asleep a few times, and I envied the boys in the back who were in a Chinese Dominican restaurant, fried chicken and french fry coma.

None-the-less, when I got home I passed out on the couch from taking the pill while we were out.

Then I heard it.

If you've ever had a water cooler, you'll know the sound.

That 'glug, glug, glug' it makes as you press the lever to get your coveted, cold, clean water.

Oh, I heard it, and looked over to see Pathetic Puppy pushing the lever to help herself to water.

The bowl water just isn't good enough for her.

No, she watched and learned.

I noticed that every single time I was getting myself water, she was right by my side.

Oh, but yes, she was studying.

Now she can help herself to her own cold, clean water, whenever she pleases.

No more sharing spit with those others, who are OBVIOUSLY less than her.

No, she is her own dog, and she is not like 'them'.

She will drink from the fountain of humans!

I knew she was a smart girl, because she's the one who figures out how to piss me off the most.

I never imagined she was capable to study and learn from me.

As soon as this ankle is finished with it's hissy fit, I'm going to do some special training with her.

I think she needs a little bit more than a 'sit' and 'down'.

Even though she won't do them for me.

I can read her thoughts as I ask her to do my bidding, "That's what those other Dominican dogs do!  I'm so much better than them!"

She's so racist.

Speaking of 'sit', The Thug is at least now allowing me to force him into a sit, whereas before, he would starfish and I couldn't even make him budge.

He's still attacking Pathetic Puppy, but I'm getting better at pulling him off by the neck.

Even with a sprained ankle.

i am healthy, healed, and whole

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.

my intuition is broken

Upon wakening, I was whisked out the door with workers, off to the hardware store to get supplies to start the roof, so I'm a little late on my blog today.

However, while visiting our local hardware store, I was happy that the man who is usually so frustrated with my lack of Spanish was nicer to me.

I suppose that means my efforts of communicating are paying off and I'm getting better.

A lot of people are telling me my Spanish is getting better.

I'm trying very hard and people are beginning to understand me, as I am starting to understand them.

Like for instance, this morning, when I said, "Oh no!!!!  My Mastercard is empty?!?!?!  Here, try my Visa."

Then they understood my pained face along with my words, "Oh, that one's empty too?  Do you take American Express?"

Thankfully they did, or our MORE than leaky roof repairs would not have started today.

Now that every one of our cards is maxed, the fun of survival REALLY begins

Oh boy.  I haven't had this much debt since I claimed bankruptcy as a starving artist.

To say I'm terrified is an understatement.

However, I have inexpensive, wonderfully fresh food and a beautiful view.

Oh, and doggy TV.

I get to watch them steal our shoes and prepare to devour them with their razor sharp teeth.  Then I get to watch them go into the garden and dig up the newly repaired grass and plants.  I even get to watch them as they are on the terrace roof, and they get to watch me freak out and yell at them to get off.

Like we need a dog with a broken leg.  Or two broken legs.  Or four, on two or three dogs.

Puppies are bad, but at this point, I'm grateful I don't have the space for goats.

Puppies are definitely not as bad as goats.

Now.  What to do with the family who asked us to be godparents.

I was a little worried about this, but relaxed after being told by the Housemaid that here, it's not about money and paying for their upbringing, it's just like in Canada.

The Housemaid has 37 godchildren.  If she can afford it, then we should be ok.

Gifts on birthdays and X-Mas, love and guidance for the wee one, and if the worst case scenario happened and parents die, then godparents step in.  Or blood relatives.

Anyway.

I've spoken to Our Fave's Mom and told her that we are not in a financial position to be paying for anything for their family, ie: food, school, etc., and that we are only prepared to be godparents if it's on the same terms as Canadians.

She agreed that it's not about money, and upon meeting her husband, my intuition told me they are good people.

But like I keep learning time and again, is my intuition is broken here.

It's hard to read people here and I don't understand why.

People are people, but those I think are ok, keep turning out to be not so.  I can't trust my intuition anymore.

We've been told by the Dominican Daddy that they are not good people and that Our Favourite will steal from us in a heartbeat.

We could have troubles with Our Fave's Mom's brothers, sisters and cousins, as they are thieves and drug addicts.

They also live RIGHT behind us, so they have easy access to our home.

What to do?

I'm a little worried, and need to tell Our Fave's Mom that it's for our best safety if she doesn't tell her family where we live, or who we are.

I'm used to the thieves and addicts in Canada.

I know how to deal with nasty folks back home and have managed to keep myself safe most of the time, but here?

It's like the Wild West and there are no police to call for help when you need it.

We have to rely upon ourselves and the people we trust, and hope that our trust isn't in vain.

Who to trust?

It's so hard to not feel safe.

And now what to do with Our Fave's Mom?

What to do?

i trust my inner light and intuition to guide me

THE DONKEY!!!!

Well, it looks like I got the donkey I always wanted.

THIS IS THE DONKEY!!!!

And yes, I had to yell that and make it as big as possible, just to get the point across as to just how massive this girl already is.

Seriously.

She's only 4 months old.

I didn't realize Irish Wolfhounds are the tallest dogs on the planet.  I suppose I was confusing them with another dog.

I actually thought Papi was wrong.  Even though I saw him googling the shit out of our new Fuzzy Family member.

I guess reality is, I didn't want to really believe it, because I just wanted a rottweiler.

I don't see the rottweiler in her, except for her eyes and forehead.

But, here we have the tallest dog on the planet.

Imagine being a puppy with no training, and already being able to just grab things from the counter?!?!?!

I wanted a goats.  I heard they were a lot of trouble and non-stop destroying things.

I have the feeling I got my goat, donkey and guard dog all mixed in one.

Old Ghost Face likes her, which is great.  It's bringing her out of her shell.  She walks up and bumps noses with her tail straight in the air!

She runs from me, as she sees me as the human who cleans her wound, and that's not a good dynamic.  I'm sure that will change once I stop.

I could go on about how The Donkey is crying non-stop, because she doesn't realize this is home, but I feel the need to talk about how worried I am about those waves out there.

Our quote for the rocks was really high of course, being from the Housemaid, she probably tacked on a little for herself, which is why it was so expensive.

We're going to price compare for a few days and see what we come up with.

Regardless, no matter what we pay and who we get them from, we need them, or our property will be washed away.

I feel like something is going on out there.  They've been INSANE for the last week!!  A little scary.

I can see one day here or there where they're aggressive, but damn, they're seriously right up to our property and pounding our sandbags.

The wave angels are playing with our stress levels, that's for sure.

Irony would be building our safety wall, and having it smashed down by waves within a month.

That would be Murphy's Law to the extreme, however, it's not actually too far off.  It could happen.

Anyway, now I have to go stop the puppies from scaring The Donkey.

She's terrified of the smallest one, the Jake-A-Like.  Who wouldn't be afraid of a Dominican Chihuahua?

If I'm really lucky, today I will have the energy AND the time to exercise.

At least I'm getting my cardio chasing after puppies.

And now, The Donkey just peed on the balcony.

Jeeeeeezus.

Looks like we have a new pool.

everything works out for the higher good

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

more to learn

Papi and I were given some advice on the DR1 Forum that we're taking.

Best to get everything in place before we do the deed of 'letting her go due to lack of funds'.

We shouldn't say we're 'firing' her.  We need to keep on really good terms with her, because we need our safety.

It's also best not to talk about the theft, or there will be hostility and bad feelings, leading to possible security issues as well.  I just have to swallow my pride and let her think she has one over us.

The last piece of advice, is we need to get a signed paper into the city's books that show how long she worked for, how much we paid her, her hours, and her signature.

To fire someone, you have to pay severance.  I do think that's fair, and I'm glad they have that law here for people's benefit.

However, the other half we did hear about earlier, that is now confirmed, is they'll take you to court and say they worked for longer than you're saying, and that they earned more money that you paid them, and that you owe them more money, ie: another Mr. Extortion.

The locals will win every time.  Expats don't have a hope in hell, unless they get that paper signed before the deed is done.

So, being the crafty, thieving, sly one she is, we'll definitely take these people's experience into consideration and heed their warning.

Not to mention, we couldn't get the locks changed yesterday.  We can't let her go until the locks are changed.

I can't wait for all this to be done.  Seriously.  She didn't even clean yesterday.  I don't know what she did while we were out dealing with dogs again, but it definitely wasn't cleaning.

While we were at the shelter/vet, we also had MORE confirmed information that people WILL poison your dogs here.

It's such a normal occurrence, that they sell poison kits for it.

You see, we're going to pick up another dog today.  Her face is front and center on the AAAS Facebook page.

She's a cranky lookin' mama that we're told is a GREAT guard dog.

She is traditionally an outside dog, and when we spoke to the Canine Quarterback there about keeping her that way for extra outside security, she reinforced what everyone else here has had to say.

If we leave the dog outside at night, they'll throw poisoned meat over the fence, then the next day while you're grieving their death, they'll come back and rob you.

So, mama's gonna be livin' in the lap of luxury.  A Canadian dog, living inside, and probably on the bed.

When we finally get one that is big enough, that is.  We're STILL waiting for our money transfer.  Visa is loving us right now.

I'm still learning patience for the 'Dominican Time'.

Anyway, we're getting her and one more.  We heard there was a female rottweiler looking for a home.  We'll take her!  Sold!

When we spoke to the Canine Quarterback about the new mama and one more, she asked us, "What are you doing here?  Collecting dogs?!?!"

I reminded her, "We've only been here 6 weeks!  We're just getting started!"

If I can't have my goats, because our land is too small, then I'll be happy with the chaos of dogs.

Hopefully that will be an extra deterrent as well.

Dogs, a wall with broken glass on top, a stun gun (and another a little more deadly), a machete (that I am sharpening more every day and practising on coconuts), a bat, and soon to be bars on the windows.

Oh!

And prickly bushes outside windows as well.  The DR1 Forum taught us that one too.

Good info there, once you weed through the morons who are looking for advice on women.

Like, for example, "I've been sending money to a woman here and am finally coming to visit her.  Do you think she is just using me for my money?"

Dude, if you're stupid enough to be sending money to someone you don't know, and are falling for it being 'love', you shouldn't be moving here.

I promise you.

You'll be broke.

Or dead.

i am safe

some hope and no grope

Well, we chose to call the vet and ask if he does house calls.

Poor Psycho Kitty was just too sick to bring in a hot car with 8 people.

He doesn't do house calls, but he told us what to buy at the pharmacy.

The vet could hear in my voice that I was close to despair.  He told me not to give up hope.  That there may be one more medicine that will help.

I've been calling on my angels like never before for Psycho Kitty.  So have a lot of my lovely friends.  I need him to stay for a while.

I know it's selfish, but I just wanted him to have a fun life.  He needs to enjoy this.

He actually looks like he's feeling a little better today.

By the sound of him talking, it seems he has more energy.

His head doesn't feel as hot and there's not as much blood coming out of his mouth.

Off we went and we were lucky that the ride there we got a bus.  No lap sitting.

Not to mention, now that we know the actual cost, it's so much nicer to give them correct change and they seem to know that we're not fools any more.

After filing out of the cab, we were walking through town to the pharmacy, quite sad and stressed about the state of Psycho Kitty.

We waded through tourists with bright shiny faces who looked around at the wares with awe.  You could see the looks in their eyes, "Ooh!  Look!  I need that!"

All we did was keep our heads down and carry on forth to our destination.

Then, true to Papi's incredible nature, he made me laugh harder than I had in days.

He looked at the tourists, then looked at me and said, "This is the worst vacation I've ever been on."

The joke was only for us.

Nobody else would get it.

Nope.  Not a vacation.

Our new life.

We wouldn't have time to work, I promise you.  I wanted a goat.  There is no time for that either.  I'll just find a local to buy their milk off of.

Then there was another moment of silliness when we stopped at the taco stand to have a snack.

We looked at all the people cramming in and out of the 'bus' or 'taxi' and Papi said, "Can you imagine commuting every day like that?"

I snorted at Papi, "We DO!"

Seriously.

Every day we cram in to the cab like clowns and get to our destination.

We DO commute like that.

Papi wouldn't step foot on a bus in Vancouver, like the West Side Prince he was, yet here we are sitting on laps and being humbled for it.

I would never be so close to strange men, but here I am, carrying my money in my bra and keeping close tabs on Papi's stun gun, just in case I may need it for an overzealous local, who make think my blonde hair and blues eyes are an invitation to a free grope.

All I can say is, I'm so damn grateful I went to Spanish classes before we got here.

As much as I don't remember very quickly, and need lots of repetition, I'm really beginning to be able to at least communicate in little short sentences.

But it's enough to make my head hurt.

Every day, the focusing and thinking as hard as I can gives me a headache.  I suppose I'm wiring new routes and eventually, I'll be better than I was before I got here, and who knows, maybe I'll heal from most of my brain injury and give me some memory skills!

... wishful thinking eh? ...

Today's task is to get the plumber/electrician to look at our well and oven.

We're pretty sure that we're showering in sewage water.

Something smells and there's a leak outside that shouldn't be happening.  All our water is brown, except for my handy dandy water from the reverse osmosis machine I brought.

Papi laughed at me and told me I was ridiculous, but who's laughing now as I drink water right from the machine's tap, without getting sick!

i remember what i learn and when i forget, the words come to me quickly

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

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

Queer as Fuck!

As we prepare meals for the Fuzzy Family, we stand in our kitchen of temporary home #1 and realize that this room is probably about the same space as our living room and kitchen put together in Our Closet.

It occurred to us that we're going to be wading through four legged fiends to get to the bathroom.

454 sq. ft. is crazy!  If Papi and I don't fight in this tiny place, then damn, we can live anywhere!

I'm going to be without a dishwasher as well.

Good god.  That will be the most frightening part.

Did you know I make every meal from scratch?  This creates a lot of mess in my kitchen.

Papi doesn't have to worry about that part.

He's on a special diet of McDonald's for breakfast, Quizno's for lunch and Tim Horton's for dinner.  He chases those down with a muffin occasionally.

That and his pop.

He'll be responsible for bringing out his fast food garbage I guess.  He'll be doing that while I'm cleaning the kitchen.

It's about to make me want to purge even more.

I swear to god, I've never had so little to move in my life, thanks to The Great DR Purge.  We have nothing.

I couldn't believe it, when we went to the attic to organize what we have to put in my baby sister's storage, and it only took 15 minutes to prepare.

To be honest, the anxiety that comes with 'stuff' never occurred to me, because I've lived the life of a hoarder since I was taught to do so by my grandparents who survived the depression.

Keep EVERYTHING!!  Good god man!!!  You never know when you'll need it!!

This was my way of living.

So, when I found out that I had won a gift from Queer Arts Festival, I felt that I was uncomfortable with something more coming to our home.

That reaction really surprised me.

I realized that I'm actually stopping the packrat mentality!

Anyway, here's what I missed out on:

I won the 'Queer As Fuck Award' for all the volunteering I do for them every week for 4 hours!

When I was offered a ride to temporary home #2 by Papi, I skipped out of the award festivities and took my ride to the other side of the pond.

I left that night before the awards were given out, because I never get awards and didn't think I'd be missing out on anything personally.

Then I found out what they'd given me, because they took a video of it and sent it to me!!!

They gave me a gift that I appreciated immensely, only it doesn't go to me.

They gave a family in Haiti a goat, in my name, and a super duper dog tag to wear around my neck, with my award engraved upon it.

I just about cried while I watched this.

Then, being true to my personality, I berated myself for not being there to accept such a great moment.

... stupid! stupid! stupid! she says ... fuck! she's so mean!! ...

However, I probably would have cried in front of the whole audience, and cleaning up that mess is just nasty.

People may have thought I was bipolar and called the authorities.

... does this blog make me sound BPD? ...

Anyway, this was probably one of the greatest awards I've received, and for my 'rough around the edges friends' to know me so well, to give a family the goat they need, well, that made my year.

I'm so fucking grateful and proud.

 i am somebody, and i count

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

Crying Sucks.

Sometimes, it really hurts.

Basically, my mother has chosen her husband over her daughter.

Can't blame her.

She's had such a rough upbringing being beaten by nuns and living with certain dysfunctional family members could really screw someone up.

Then being knocked up by my deadbeat dad would've given her more issues.

So, she met Mr. Homophobia and they're living happily ever after.

She's not even so much as allowed to speak her dirty disgusting dyke daughter's name, or the man of the house who rules the roost will start a fight with her.

She can only see me when she has managed to get out of the house without him knowing she's coming to see me.

So, I don't really have a relationship with my mother.

But it still really hurts when I see my baby sister talking about going to her house for dinner tonight.

I should know better than to be hurt by it.

If I allow this to affect me each and every time, I'll only be harming myself.

I get to go to Swiss Chalet with the most wonderful spouse there ever was, and a crazy old bird who will make it quite interesting.

Why the hell would I even want to be over there with Mr. Homophobia?!?!?!

My love doesn't hold grudges like I do.

... yup. another one of my shortcomings that i have to deal with ...

However, my love would never disown his own daughter because his spouse told him to.

Good god!

It just happens everywhere to me!

In my 'community', within my friends, in my family life and even strangers who believe the lies all of the above say about me.

I'm lovely goddamit!

Why do I get ousted all over the fucking place!!!!!!!

No fucking wonder I want to run off to some 3rd world country and start new.

I would rather be with goats.

Knowing my luck I'll get the only fucking goats that know how to judge me as well.

So, while I sip my coffee, hoping that my artificial happiness will stop my tears from burning my skin, I have to remember that my life is what it is.

Never ending extremism.

Either really, really good, or really really painful.

It's been like this since I was a kid.  I should be used to it by now!!!!!

But I'm not.

My sperm donor left me with abandonment issues that are still harming me today.

I see that this pattern of being banished from various groups and people really needs to be looked at.

In life, when we have something to work on, life passes it to us non-stop until we learn how to deal with it.

Any fucking suggestions on how to deal with constantly and consistently being ostracized and banished?

I have started my Victim Support Counselling.  I hope that in the 6 months they allow me my counsellor, that I can deal with as much as possible.

However, I'm really only supposed to be dealing specifically on the sexual abuse of the hands of bio-males.

Does abandonment fit in there?

I fucking hope so.

Because this hurts.

Someone told me crying is good for you.

Fuck you.

i am attracted only to those people and situations that support and nourish 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

Fuck you and your elitist panties.

I told Papi I wouldn't write about this to 'you', my imaginary friend, but it's so hard not to when I'm so angry.

This is where I work it out.

Hen Peckers.

I'm not the only one they've done this to.

They kicked another of my friends when they were down.

Seems the only way they can feel powerful, is to find someone who's hurting and twist that knife in their backs just a little bit more, to really hit home that they're not good enough for them.

Elitists are so fucking ridiculous.

In the grand scheme of things, they really don't matter.

They have no feelings for anyone except themselves, so when it's your turn to be in the Pit of Doom, they'll get you as well.  It doesn't even matter if you're best friends with them!

The queen bee will instruct all their minions to do as they're told.

These chicken shits who are afraid of losing their 'cool' status will adhere to their every word.

To me, these are the losers that are not cool enough.

I dealt with them in high school.  We all have, unless you were one of them.

But even still, I remember being part of the 'cool' kids until they turned on me as well.

These Hen Peckers are the same 'mean girls' that we all had to deal with in high school.  The only difference is they never grew up.

However, something tells me that when they were in high school, they were hurt by the 'mean girls' just like us.

Then, as a chronologically aging 'mature' person, they figure the only way to be more powerful than another, is to hurt someone even more, even when they need friends the most.

I'll tell you, the more I learn about my queer community and their elitist panties they put on every morning, the more I can't wait to move the the Dominican Republic and get the fuck out out this bullshit and hang out with goats.

Unconditional love from a non-elitist.

Come on people!

Who the fuck do you think you are anyway?

Where do you think all this hatred is going to take you?

Nirvana?

When we're all in the old farts home, I'll be talking about all the lovely souls that filled me throughout my time of need.  I'll be talking about how incredible my life was and that I lived it to the fullest with honesty.

And you bitches?

What will you be talking about?

You'll still be gossiping about how the lady at the next table doesn't deserve to be sitting at yours because she's not cool enough.

Fuck you.

This year, when I'm out and about in the community, I am going to hold my head higher than I ever have, because I know the truth about these 'mean girls'.

I am going to walk with all the friends who have been maimed by their harshness, and hug them every time the 'mean girls' cast their stares down their noses at my sweet friends who deserve the love we have for each other.

I think you'd better change your underwear.  They're getting a bit skanky now.

i attract only healthy relationships

honky.

We humans are sick fucks.

I was just over at a blogger friend's site, and he made me realize something.  He was talking about how since he's let go of a lot of his anger, he's lost readers.

Nobody really wants to read about people getting happy!

Well, unless of course, they are already happy and the article is about how to become even happier.

There's a difference there.

We people love train wrecks.

We people love to rubber neck.

We love to read about others misfortunes and pain.

Why?

Well, I guess it's entertaining when it's someone else, and sometimes, it makes us feel better about our own lives when someone else has it worse off.

I see this blog moving further away from the grief of losing my butch, because I'm moving away from the pain.

This means, I'm starting to see a shift in the readers I have.  I'm not really losing readers, they're just changing is all.

Changing with me.

Of course, as life progresses, I'm sure it will switch from my dear tranny, to my personal struggle of well being, to our big move to the Dominican Republic.

You will then get to laugh at my failed attempts at milking a goat.

Better yet, you'll get to see a 1st world country, ignorant, honky woman try to mingle with those who only see me as 'white', with really bad Spanish.  Not as a potential friend to fill their heart with love.

There's racism all over the world.

Somehow, as a cracker, I fell like I deserve it though, because of all the wrong doings of my ancestors.

I'm embarrassed that people I may be related to harmed the First Nations here in North America, and it seems, continue to do so.

I'm horrified that great grandfathers used Asian people as a way to get into dangerous areas, because they were considered a 'lesser' human and expendable.

I'm so heartbroken for the stories of Black folks who can tell tales of their family being slaves and beaten for the colour of their skin.

I'm disgusted by the rantings of those in our neighbouring country, who go on about their neighbouring country Mexico being such a problem.

Would you not want to escape a country that is killing your families?  Would you not want to come to a country that was one step up from the perpetual mayhem that is?  It's what your ancestors did when they came over here and took over by killing the indigenous.

I'm sorry for every colour of skin out there that has been harmed at the hands of white people.

All I can say is, I'm so proud that I have Jewish heritage, even if it was only from my Great Grandmother's side.  At least I have something of virtue to hang on to other than my honky background.

Jeeeeezus.  How did I get on this rant?!?!  I was just talking about goats for fucks sakes!!

Anyway, my point was, nobody like to read about boring topics like how Sir Bark-A-Lot just tangoed with Psycho Kitty and lost the fight this morning.

Oh it was good folks.  He didn't start squealing until he broke free.

What kind of idiot chihuahua takes on a cat 3 times his size?!?!

Sir Bark-A-Lot.  That's who.

Sorry if this wasn't angry enough for you.

I'm sure I'll have something to bitch about tomorrow.  I can't really go too long before I'm back on my soap box.

i am sure of my ability to do what is necessary to improve my life

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.

tomorrow ...

When the rain sets in for the winter, those voluptuous drops of water are like little shards of glass pelting my body.

Every one of them wreak havoc on my injuries, and people say, "You're limping!  Are you ok?!"

I just want to get to the Dominican Republic and stop the ouch.

Even though we can't leave until all my legal crud is cleared up and the G'ma goes to her new home in the sky, I'm feeling like I'm really going to be there 'tomorrow'!

It was pointed out to me last night, that Papi not only has to pass as a guy for his safety, but for my safety too.

That part didn't really occur to me.

I'm such a romantic idealist, that I just think we're going to move there and people will love us automatically, because we're loveable dammit!

I forget that they are a country where the people could homicidally judge us, if there's any evidence of my love having been a woman in the past.

When we were last there, we became friends with a sweet, young, single father, who was the official photographer of the resort we stayed in.

He showed us a video on his camera of the after effect of a fight.

It involved a machete and a head.

The head was in the gutter, and the machete was nowhere to be seen.

This was a fight over a girl.

They fought to the death for her, and only one head rolled.

So, if they're really going to behead someone who wanted the same girl, imagine how easy it would be for them to dismiss us from the planet.

i have even worse fears that go on in my mind, but i don't want this to get over the top serious with my mind's eye ...

My friend that reminded me that I, too, could possibly suffer at the hands of religious, homophobic people that have been brain washed.  "I'll give you 4 years," I was told, with an added, "you'll miss your queer community too much."

Yes, I will miss my 'rough around the edges friends', my Trust List and my biological and chosen family.

In terms of the Hen Peckers, I can't wait to get away from them and their Rah-Rah-Tranny cohorts.

Good fucking riddance.

I'd rather hang out with goats.

Anyway, I'm not going to get on to the 'ick' that are in our community, but rather get back on track about our haven.

Papi and I are city slickers, born and raised in Vancouver.

Some way, some how, we have to learn what it's like to be country bumpkins.

We will be building our own house, and will probably have to live in a tin roofed home for the first while.

That or a Winnebago.

At the same time, we have to learn how to live off the land.  I can see that my first 2 years are going to be an ample distraction from the fact that I'm nowhere near another queer person, other than Papi.

And the goats.

Goats are queer enough for me to talk to.

Not to mention, I've also been told, by some of my lovely Blogger Friends, that goats do make good listeners.

In my mind, I'm leaving the rain, snow, cold and Hen Peckers behind for good.

I know it's 20 months to 2 years away, but like I said, to me it feels like 'tomorrow'.

At this point, I'm not thinking about how much I'm going to miss my friends, because my romantic idealist brain keeps saying, "No worries! They'll all be coming by to visit you in those beautiful, luscious, healing, rolling hills of beauty."

... tomorrow ...