Sunday Sillies

Here's your YouTube Show.

A little tardy, I must say.

Just came out of a 3 week mosquito borne virus.

But here it is!

it was only day one ...

You really have to laugh.

My baby sister saw a pic Papi posted of us while we were in the 2nd tow truck after our car broke down and asked, "Why are you smiling?!?!"

Because you have to laugh.

We have a car we bought from the devil himself.  We had it 'repaired' the day before we left for our trip to the nerve center of this country.

I've been having some troubles being stranded at the side of the road in our small town in the country, but there's one problem area you do not want to experience being broken down in, and true to our nature of never ending drama, this is where the car was grounded.

Now, I've spoken before about how we're living in a pretty vicious country, but just to recap for those of you who are new to my world, people in this country are so desperate to get their cerveza for the day, they will kill you for 5 pesos.

I am not exaggerating.

We set out to the capitol, Santo Domingo, to get my salt air impaired piano fixed by the best in the country.

But not only that, we had 2 computers, also slain from living too close to the ocean, along with our computer we've been sharing and an iPad for the other soul who doesn't get to the shared computer first.

Oh, and cash in case we got stranded.

Off we drove with our tinted windows, to be sure people couldn't see we were gringos right away in hopes that we don't get accosted, and drove on a highway where there is nothing for miles, except for the occasional horse.

It's an ideal stretch for serial killers to dump bodies in, but we don't have that problem in this country.  Generally speaking, that seems to be more of a phenomenon of white men in 1st world countries.

However, it is a great place to be dumped after desperate pirates take everything you own, then kill you so you can't identify them.

Satan's Sedan croaked and we were stranded in bum-fuck-nowhere, Dominican Republic, near 2 horses who seemed to salute us with an anxious, "Neigh!!!!"

We were fortunate that this toll road had an emergency number.  We called it and the woman who spoke speed Spanish did her best to get information out of me about where we were.

"Ummm ... near 2 horses and coconut trees."  It couldn't have been arduous to find the farcical gringos with a raised hood.

When they arrived, they found me searching the grass.  Why?  Because when I had taken the radiator cap off, the lid blew off like a volcano.

Not to mention, I had green coolant dripping from my face, hair and clothing.  The saving grace was that I had waited long enough that the coolant did it's job and I didn't get a 3rd degree burn from boiling fluid.

Papi had a good laugh at my face of disgust.  Yeah.  Really funny.

Anyway, thanks to our emergency crew we didn't get killed by fortune hunters.

The emergency crew called a tow truck for us, but he could only bring us to the first toll booth.  We needed a 2nd one once we passed that border.

Upon meeting the first driver, I had asked Papi to please sit in the middle, so that I didn't have to sit beside what my spidey senses told me was a creepy man.

"No!  You speak Spanish!" Papi said.  Oh yes.  This guy whispered things to me in Spanish that Papi couldn't understand.

Really, I couldn't understand the words, but I understood the energy quite clearly.

We got to the 2nd leg of the highway of hell without being raped and the new tow truck driver, who was a sweet family man, got us to a repair shop with our car and all it's belongings in tow.

This is where we met the garage owner who had two thumbs ...

... i'm not kidding ... it was QUITE fascinating ...

... who told us that our engine was dead.

Dead engine.  Stuck 3 hours away from home, no clue to know whether he was lying or not with one option: we had to accept that we were going to have to pay for a new engine if we were to make it home again with the demon's dump of a jalopy.

An engine takes a little time to be put into a car, so we had a forced vacation, but there's so much more to tell you.

Why I'm writing a blog instead of practising my piano that we went all the way there to get fixed?  Because I can't find my fucking piano power cord.

Jeeeeeezus have I left all my cords in Santo Domingo?!?!?!

We can't do anything without drama, which is entertainment for everyone.

Don't ever feel bad if you have a boring life.

I'm thanking my angels that we got through the trip and made it back home alive.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to tend to a puking puppy.

And people wonder why I started drinking again ...

i allow my life to be filled with peace

out to pasture

The cows are in abundance.

The thug thinks they're a toy to play with.

It's a little upsetting.

I'm sure the cows are going to win that game.

The fridge ticks and tacks.

Apparently it's 'doing it's job'.

We should have had cabinets built around our inverters.  Now they are water logged because of the ocean air being full of salt water.

We are without power a lot of the day, every day, but after a year, we're starting to get used to it.

"Oh, you should have the same cabinets around your inverters as your neighbours, then you wouldn't have to buy new inverters."

So, you couldn't have told us that before we went into the hole for 2 new ones?

Ya know?

But back to the cows.

I sing a lot of songs about cows.

Not that I put any away in that locker of music to record.

It's just cow songs.

Like a musical.

While on the road.

Because we're always on the road.

And there are always cows.

So, what else would there be to sing about?

Or for that matter, write about.

So, it's only natural that when we're walking the dogs, after the first river, we'll find a pasture of cows.

Then, being the tyrant he is, it's only natural for The Thug to go torment them.

Off runs Papi.

"Run faster!" I scream.  I don't want our neighbours putting a bullet in our dogs.

I don't want our dogs hurting the cows.

I can now see all the cows running away from The Thug.

But what's worse, is now The Donkey thinks it's time to play too.

She's about as tall as a calf.

Earlier that day, there were the puppies.

It's possible we'll take one.

We miss Pathetic Puppy so much.

It's nice that we have her reminders.  Like my fancy wedding purse with a very special chew hole, courtesy of the baby girl.

It's like she came in the form of a cyclone, destroyed everything, then went back to her angels.

We have her reminders.

But we'll never have that little one eye.

We may have a new little girl to make our lives crazy for a while.

One can never have enough crazy.

Except for the fact that I feel so heartbroken that so many hearts have left my life.

I can live without THAT crazy.

But then, I guess they were never really friends to begin with.

I will keep moving forward.

i choose love

is there a secret i'm missing?

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

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

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

Upon nearing the sofa, I found out otherwise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

... I went to work on the quinoa.

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

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

Oh, this couch is not ours.

The crap was beside it.

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

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

No, this couch is not ours.

It belongs to them.

Those stinky little bastards we love so much.

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

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

"Rest.  No walking," the surgeon said.

Right.

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

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

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

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

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

"Rest.  No walking."

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

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

"Rest.  No walking."

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

"Rest.  No walking."

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

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

"Rest.  No walking."

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

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

Oh, but I'll rest.

Later.

i am capable of making healthy choices

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

i'm back!

your sunday sillies ...

Hallelujah I am healed!

Well, mostly.  Enough to type anyway.  I'll try playing piano today.

Just bumping it on something brings great pain, but the swelling is down.

When we brought in Old Ghost Face to see Dr. Bob, because of the fight, he saw that I was wounded as well.

He gave me some anti-inflammatory pain meds and they REALLY helped!

Sad news is, The Thug has attacked Old Ghost Face once more, then attacked Pathetic Puppy.

I'm trying to get that damn dog obedience trained, but he's a wee bit thick in the head.

Or perhaps, with all his abuse he endured, he has a little bit of brain injury from being hit in the head too much.

He's very sweet most of the time, it's just he gets a little over excited with the 'play' and he reverts back to his old days of fighting.

He didn't attack long enough to take a chunk out of Pathetic Puppy, though.  Forget about grabbing his collar.  This time, I grabbed the fur at the back of his neck and lifted him off the ground.

I tried leaving The Thug out with Dominican Daddy, while he was The Guard for the night.

I felt too guilty to do that to this sensitive dog.  I had to bring him in.

Oh, why do we have a guard?

Papi has left me all alone for a few weeks.  He's gone back to Vancouver to see g'ma and tidy up some of our loose ends.

It's really creepy being here all alone sometimes.

Then other times, I'm so damn busy that I don't have time to fret.

I thought I would get a lot of sleep while Papi was gone, because he makes a lot of noise in the night while he's on his graveyard shift.

But I realized now that it's not really him making the noise that wakes me up.

It's those damn dogs.  They have a 3 a.m. pee clock.

However, when I get up at 3 a.m., some dog, or rather, shall I say dogS, as in plural, have already relieved themselves on the floor.

How nice it is to mop up piss and pick up shit in the middle of the night.

I'm sure Dominican Daddy gets a kick out of me coming out all bleary eyed, frog voiced, saying, begging, "Go pee."

Of course, why would they?  They don't need to.  They already did.  All over the fucking floor.

Puppies.  Big puppies.

It's a bit much for one person to handle all day every day.

I know Papi is busy with a lot of work in Vancouver.

I think we are both working very hard, except his life isn't being surrounded by masses of children ringing the doorbell to bring me more plants as a thank you for lessons.

Masses of children interrupting me as I edit or practise, asking if they can have their turn in the pool at the Hector-Brown Amusement Park.

Masses of children screaming my name as I quickly shut the doors, hide in the designated music area and unplug the doorbell.

The other day someone was ringing the doorbell that I had unplugged.

When that didn't work, he yelled my name for an hour.

When I saw him later, I told him that I can't hear him when I'm practising and that the doorbell is broken.

I think the doorbell will conveniently be broken every Sunday.

Maybe I'll put a sign on it.

'Go away!', but nicely.  Still.  Go away.

As much as it's hard to be alone without Papi here, even if it's just to stare at him while he sleeping off the Graveyard Coma, still, I want to be left alone.

Lord knows I don't have time for children while chasing around 5 hairy mongrels and trying to convince the 6th that she really, really needs to go out to pee some time.

Old Ghost Face is a bit afraid to go anywhere near The Thug now, and holds it in.

It's only been 2 days.  I want Papi back now.

He really needs to take over the puppy graveyard shift so I can sleep.

i embrace the peace and quiet of the night

naked.

Favourite top, eaten.

Razor, chewed upon.

Holes, dug.

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

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

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

He ripped his toenail right out of his toe!

Blood!  Screaming!  Papi and I panicking!

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

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

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

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

I tried to run a shower.  No fucking water.

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

A quick skinny dip.

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

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

Seems the coast was clear.

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

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

Then I heard it.

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

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

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

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

Neither of us wanted to say anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck!

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

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

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

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

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

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

it's simple

He is American and talented.

He sang his American national anthem.

From the stands, those who have been taught racism rang out, "BOOOOO!!" because of the colour of his skin.

Why?

Today, important once again to search for simple joy.

Puppy nibbles on toes.

His little body twists and turns with exultation for no reason other than to express his merriment for living.

A walk with Papi and the Fuzzy Family down the beach as we giggle at their antics of jumping in and amongst the waves, rolling, tumbling.

We floated around in the pool, I drinking lime water for my stomach that seems to have come into contact with some bug, from somewhere, Papi drinking soda, of course.

We taught Pathetic Puppy and Jake-a-Like how to swim and exit, so that they could save themselves if they ever fell in to the pool.

This, while The Donkey swam laps around them.

I taught children piano, watching their pride glow as they felt the strength of playing the line right.

One little soul pulled on my heart strings.

We both wore glasses.

She liked mine, I liked hers.

She helped me with my Spanish, I helped her with her staccatos.

I felt connection to her awkwardness, and the wanting so badly to be loved and have approval.

Something as effortless as encouragement in her fledgling musicianship made us both feel strong.

It gave us an acquaintance where nothing mattered for that half hour, but the lesson and sharing the music.

MusicMan gave me a great hug when he saw me yesterday.

He had gratitude for me being there, I had gratitude that he was happy to see me.

Simply joy.

He told me he spoke to the BigWigs and it looks like I'll get paid for my work in September.

I'm already being paid in my heart, but a little reimbursement for my gas will be the cherry on top.

I was tired and weak when I arrived at Dream Project.

I left energized and ready to make more of my day than I had in a few days, from feeling so weighted in my heart.

When I arrived home, The Carpenter followed me in to our driveway with an offer: if I pay for the wood, he will make seats for the children of The Garage Band no charge.

It's happening!

People are starting to help with the children.

I only took the first steps.

But now, I am seeing others follow for their support.

Soon, they'll have a place to sit as they sing.

Simple joy.

This is only the beginning.

I'm so happy for them, and yes, for me.

It means their energetic, wiggly little bodies won't be squirming all over the place.

They'll have somewhere to plant themselves to listen a little better to instructions.

Seats.

Something so uncomplicated, yet another step toward more jubilance, love and gratitude.

It's simple to find, when you focus on the good.

Joy.

i feel good doing things that improve the well being of others

never a day without learning

Wow.

Mr. Lumpy is actually shrinking!!!

All I'm taking are amino acids and Vit. E., however, in high doses.

But he's gone down.

The pain is less.

The itching is less.

The wall is fixed.

... sorry to switch topics on ya like that ...

The kitty litter boxes now have a box on top.

Cheesecloths, pot holders and anything else that could possibly have the scent of ANY kind of food on them are raised above donkey level.

Major puppy-proofing is in order.

Next, chicken wire for the ground.

This is a serious project.

You should see what I did to the balcony railing upstairs.

We had puppies on the terrace rooftop.

Not anymore.  A little bit of string is now cobwebbed through and there are no more puppies on the roof.

I also found out today that I have less time teaching at Dream Project than I thought, which pleases me.

I have a tendency to take on more than I should.

I get a little too gung-ho and take everything on at once, then realize it's not really possible for one person to do it all.

Yet, somehow, I do.

I thought this trait left me after the motorcycle accident, but in so many ways here in the Dominican Republic, I'm learning that I'm not completely healed.

I thought I could lift a 5 gallon bottle of water into the water cooler.

Because I am healed, right?

Nope.

I'm still fragile, it's just that I don't have to take pills every day to ease my pain.

So, I have to remember, still, that I can only do so much.

Because lord knows, once that stress kicks in, my brain won't function and NOT A THING will get accomplished.

So, upon hearing that it's not going to be full time work this month and September, I was pleased.

More than pleased.

I need my time for my own creativity too!

That's the trap I fell into when I was teaching for a living.  All work and no creativity gives us a Hurricane Andréa sighting.

I never did get that digital piano from Santo Domingo on the Mr. Lumpy tour.

Papi and I couldn't find the store.

So I ordered one online.

It should be here this week and the MusicMan has me practising Jazz standards, which will give my brain a run for it's money!

Accelerated review of all that I learned in college that has completely left my mind!

I have to learn it all over again.

Anyway, the other part of having more time, means more time for training these demon dogs.

And puppy-proofing the house.

They are like having triplet toddlers who get into everything at the same time, and I only have 2 hands to catch them with.

That right there is a full time job.

I'll love them a little more when I'm not mad at them all the time.

They sure look cute when they sleep.

Maybe I'll put a little whiskey in their water.

i love to learn

kill them now.

I'm going to lose it with these puppies.

Yesterday, they wreaked havoc.

It wasn't just the 2 whole chicken breasts Pathetic Puppy ate.

No.

Then it was the holes.

Not just any holes.

Holes dug through the ground and under the wall.

I had seen the holes earlier and thought it was the monsoon we experienced earlier in the day.

However, upon answering the door after it chimed, I knew otherwise.

There stood Dominican Daddy with Pathetic Puppy and the Jake-A-Like in hand.

It was clear at that moment that they found their escape.

I showed Dominican Daddy where the holes were and as we were discussing how to fix them, both those little fuckers used their new departure route, leaving the yard once more.

Oh, they were so proud of themselves.

So proud.  The looks on their faces!

"Look what we did, Mom!!!"

Yes.

Indeed.

Look what you did.

Papi finally got up to help me with the vermin and I thought that their destruction may have been done for the day.

That was of course until this morning when I got up to find they had eaten some of the cheese cloth one of my dear sweet friends so generously mailed me.

You can't find cheesecloth on this fucking North side of the country, because people are too poor to buy it.

They just use their hands to do the work.

I had used some of it yesterday to make some mango juice.  Worked great!

I even washed out the cheesecloth to reuse it once more to save them.  I don't want to ever be without them again!

But no, the puppies like cheesecloth too.

They didn't eat it all, but I noticed the opened package was gone and asked Papi if it was true, that the puppies wrecked that as well.

It's true.

I want to kill them.

I want to take them to the sea and let mother nature wash them away.

I want to make puppy stew.

They are demons from hell.

Demons who just gave me the sweetest little kisses that took away all my anger.

How do they do that?

How do they make me love them after I'm ready to drop them off at the doggy shelter?

Today, I'll be buying chicken wire to put in the ground to deter them from digging anymore.

Maybe get some baby locks for the cupboards.

Fuckers.

i refuse to give up because i have not tried all possible ways

Garage Band

... your sunday sillies ...

Well, it wasn't the throngs of children I thought it would be.

No, it was quite a bit different than how I had it pictured in my mind.

I waited patiently, sitting on my little foot stool, outside Casa Paraíso.

In hand, I had my Sharpie Pen drawings of the first two notes I'd teach them, along with the list of names I had compiled of all those interested.

Nobody came.

Eventually, I saw one child nearing my direction.

Ah!  Dominican Time!  I see!

But alas, he was only going to watch them build the house next door.

So, I decided to take a stroll through the village.

Once more, I felt like the pied piper.

Not to mention, a little like the town cryer, "It's music day!  Do you want to sing with me?"

All I need is a solid brass hand bell to ring it on Saturdays when it's time to start!

One by one they'd follow, and when I was done, that list of 40 children was reduced to about 12.

No problem!  I'm good with that!

We all scampered to the beach in front of our house, and the children automatically planted themselves firmly on a log.

One problem: I had to yell above the waves!

By the time we were done, my voice was so weak, it sounded like it used to after an ear damaging concert when I was a teen.

No, this is not going to work.

I can't have them in my yard, because of the danger of the pool and puppies.

My foresight was right in that they'd be like Mexican jumping beans.  It's hard to teach, PLUS keep an eye on these little critters.

I don't need someone drowning in the pool or harassing a dog so much that they get bit.

So, next week, we're in the garage!  Our new digs!  The Garage Band.

No yelling, shelter from rain and safety from The Donkey who is sure to bowl over anyone who is close to the height of my hips.

Not to mention, we'll have the acoustics of an A-Frame room!

Furthermore, I won't have to watch them pee on our property.

I'm not kidding.

Middle of the lesson, they had to pee, and one by one they walked to the corner of our lot and peed on our wall right in front of me.

I think they had a bit too much fun doing this.

Papi was a bit appalled when I laughed about it, but I assured him, "Honey, they pee on our wall anyway, so it's nothing new.  The ocean is their washroom."

I can't tell you how many human feces we've seen along the shoreline.

Anyway, there are always a few trouble makers, but I'll tell you, if I'm not getting paid to teach, then I won't have them in my class.

I gave one a strict warning with the first set of 'rules', "You're here to sing.  If you don't want to sing, you go to your house.  I've told you twice, third time you go."

My Spanish was sufficient enough to get the point across, so he adhered to my wishes, however, I'm pretty sure I'll be learning his name first.

All in all, it was a fun 30 minutes and they learned 3 notes, 2 beats and a chorus of the song.

Afterward, one of the mothers, seeing that I was teaching children for free, took it upon herself to announce that she is Christian.

I suppose because it's something some people with religion do; help the children with no pay.

I told her, "I'm Jewish."

She touched my arm as if I needed consoling, and said, "Oh, that's OK.  You're still doing it for the kids."

Well!

I'm really glad that's 'OK' and that I have your approval!

She told me her son plays the piano at his school, so it looks like I have the beginning of the band I need!

Slowly but surely, we'll make it.

And I'm positive that more will join us next week.

I need that bell.

i believe in my ability to change the world on a small scale with the work i do

haggard.

I have so much to talk about, but somehow, I don't remember what I was going to tell you.

I do remember one item; tomorrow is the first day teaching the village children's choir.

I better have songs for them to sing, don't'cha think?  I haven't even started to prepare!!!

I've been a 'tad' busy, between Mr. Lumpy, driving to Santo Domingo, volunteering with Dream Project and everything it takes to be prepared for the above.

I'm exhausted, the dishes are piling up and the dogs are being neglected.

We haven't had the Housemaid in for a week, because we haven't been around for her allotted time.

Today is the first day in almost a week that I get to blog with my coffee.

These days, it's about running out the door with travel mug in hand, and waking up on the go while that coffee gets into my system on the road.

Showering?  Ain't nobody got time for dat!

I'm sure the locals are having lots to talk about with the stinky tattooed gringa they gossip about.

I'm pretty happy that the accident occurred 45 minutes away from here.

People in Nagua don't know us and I don't have to bow my head in shame in my own area.

Somehow, I have to look presentable for the children's concert today.

Those little beans at Dream Project are going to perform for a jazz band today.

I look forward to seeing the jazz band, as well as seeing them play for the pros.

The MusicMan is well connected and I'm very happy I've been able to be his assistant for the past few weeks.

The day before, I realized my Spanish has so far to go.

Sometimes, when I'm so tired that I can't even be bothered to shower, I just don't have the energy to study, or for that matter, REMEMBER Spanish.

Yesterday, I had a tough time at the school, and I had a tough time in my Spanish lesson last night.

Thinking that hard is difficult with limited energy!

Well, I might as well tell you about my corn.

I planted some seeds along the wall at the very front of the yard against the wall.

I didn't realized they're like banana trees, in that they're typically like a weed.

You plant in one area, and they spread out.

I have corn popping up in various areas of the yard!

I was wondering why Dominican Daddy wasn't plucking them from the ground, until I realized that they look identical to the other ones I planted.

I hope corn looks pretty, because they're invading our yard and it seems that they'll be spread out in no time.

But I know it wasn't corn I wanted to talk to you about.

Here I am, almost done my blog, and I still don't know what it was I was going to tell you.  It couldn't have been that exciting or I would have remembered right?

Wrong.

My poor injured brain has selective memory when I'm tired or stressed.  I could forget the most important of items.

I'm sure I'll remember later, when I'm in the middle of trying to understand someone's Spanish shpeel and have no idea what they just said, because I was daydreaming about some event of days past.

It will be another moment of me cocking my head, raising an eyebrow with a pained face, saying, "Que?"  That's my go to now for everything.

I was so happy to be able to get up and blog with coffee, thinking it would be a lovely writing session today, then I just sat here staring out at the ocean, watching and listening to waves crash, stunned.

If it weren't for the coffee, eggs, toast and lime infused water I was stuffing down my yak, that bewildered gaze probably would have been accompanied by me drooling all over the dogs that jump on my lap the moment I sit down at this table to write.

Ever have a donkey on your lap?

The Donkey honestly believes she's little.

Anyway, maybe tomorrow will be a little more informative and I'll remember the news I was going to share.

Until then, all you get is puppies, corn and one haggard femme.

i feel good about myself and the lessons i learn from life

home

... your sunday sillies ...

I had felt it the day before.

Papi had written about it on a Facebook status last night, and I had to smile that we both felt it only a day apart.

We feel like we're home.

It only took 5 months.

I'm pretty sure the dogs have something to do with it.  Dogs make any place home.

However, I know that it is mostly the fact that there are no workers here in our yard.

It's OUR yard now.

I can go into the new casita and use it as an exercise room without the worry of men looking at me.

We can run to the gate in our scivvies in hopes of catching the kite surfers on film, as they perform for all the people along the shore, flipping over those waves like an insignificant speed bump in the road.

They play with their air time, landing their boards back down to the high seas, as if to say, "C'mon!  Try this!  You can do it!  It's really easy!"

I can hear the waves all day, instead of the sound of saws, hammers and silly songs by the men that kept me laughing, even though they probably didn't know I giggled.

The first day without the workers, I heard birds.

Papi and I had never heard birds.  We thought that perhaps there weren't any around this area, because we were so close to the ocean.

I thought that maybe it was because they were all at the resorts, zooming in when people aren't looking at their plate, nabbing some potato and zipping off again before the unsuspecting diner even knew.

No, it was the fact that we couldn't hear them over the din of construction.

The flit about, singing to one another in hopes that one of them will find the fruit that is ripe enough to share.

Hopefully, that fruit is hidden, or the people in the village will throw rocks at them to stop them from eating their food.

We know how it works here.

People are desperate, and you can't hold that against them.  They just need to feed their families.

But we can hear the birds now.

My veggie garden is growing.

In a few months, I'll have my first crop of home grown food.

My own food, to eat in this house that is finally ours.

As much as it has cost us all of our savings, it's ours.

As much as it still needs work, and the work seems that it will be never ending, that work is ours.

As much as the puppies rip up and destroy everything in the yard, it's our yard to repair.

As much as the pool needs drudging tending to 7 days a week, that water that is slowly getting clean enough for me to swim in again, is ours.

Ours to share with our new friends, like The Carpenter, Our Fave's Mom and family, and countless others that we know enough to trust to let into our home.

We walk the dogs along the beach now that they are trained enough for recall and most of the shots are up to date.

The coastline is not ours, we just borrow it when the ocean isn't busy with it.

That vast blue is our neighbour, and we must respect her.

We visit her when she looks like she is rested enough to have uninvited guests, which isn't very often.

She has a lot of work to do.

Don't get in her way or she'll pull you into an area that will swallow you whole.

She has a temper, but she is a good, clean neighbour.

Unlike my kitchen.

It occurred to me upon editing the latest YouTube show, that all you ever see is my dirty kitchen.  I guess that's because all I'm ever doing is cooking food.

In OUR kitchen.

In OUR house.

It's ours.

We're finally in Casa Paraíso.

We're home.

i love myself totally in the now

i scream, you scream

Oh, how we are armed.

In more ways than one.

Guns, yes.

I even have my cane that has a REALLY sharp, heavy edge to it, plus 2 machetes, a stun gun and a baseball bat.

But mostly, we're thrilled with being girded with baby formula.

Our Fave's Mom sends Little Angel over without anything.

All the time.

No soother.

No food.

No diapers.

So, now that we're finally paid, we went out and got Little Angel some formula, a little bottle and a soother.

Because honestly?

The bellowing yesterday?

Wow.

We were trying to find anything we could do to stop the li'l critter from his caterwaul but someone put his level on to MAX! before dropping him off.

I could distract him for a mere 20 seconds and he'd be off to the races again.

We were worried people would think we were torturing the poor li'l guy.

We even tried to make it fun by trying to take pictures of us aping his face.

See who could get the best 'screaming baby' face on.

Neither of us came close.

Especially with our gaping teeth hanging out.

But now?

We have formula.

Yes!

No more high pitched, wailing babies!

Then there was the screeching dog, in which we needed ammunition for as well.

We didn't need to put it out of its misery, but we needed our guns because all the dogs in the village were going crazy and that usually means trouble is abounding.

So, after our gunshot was let off, as was everyone else's in the village, ...

... it seems someone starts the gun shots and everyone follows ...

... we tracked the sound of the dog yowling to help it.

Papi had initially tried to find the dog the first time, but I suppose it kept quiet out of fear for being so defenceless.

However, 2nd time round, we found it.

Little bugger was stuck in the neighbour's gate and people are so used to dogs making noise, nobody came to it's rescue.

It was stuck just like our demon dog, Pathetic Puppy, will do occasionally.

She knows how to wiggle out, but I know one day, she's going to be even larger, and we'll be doing what the village had to do at 10 pm last night; pull the brat out of the fence.

Oh, but this little fuzzy love was nipping and shrieking, doing everything it could to say, "Back off bitches, I'm tough even though I only look like I'm 4 months old.  I'll CUT you!"

I wasn't going near those choppers.

Seriously.

They were sharp.

But eventually, everyone seeing us with the dog and flashlights, not to mention the siren got louder, everyone came to help, and the bravest dog person saved it.

It was released and back went the village, and us, for some quiet time.

Papi and I looked at each other and said, "What a day of chaos it's been."

Scream day in the hood.

All kinds of fun.

i show every being how much i love them, with all verbal and non-verbal ways i can

if i was a fish.

Time to get crackin' on my Spanish!!

If I learn enough that the people at Dream Project can understand me better, and vice versa, I could possibly have a job teaching music in September.

For a month, I'm going to be the teacher's aid to the man who organizes the Dominican Republic Jazz Festival, in hopes I will learn musical terms in Spanish, so I can work with the kids.

Talk about needing to step it up!  I have 2.5 months to really get going.

One woman working there gave me a really good tip to start me off: read children's books.  Perfect!

They had a free public library there, so I picked a few up and I'll be starting with the Spanish book, "If I Was a Fish."  Awesome!

If I was a fish, I wouldn't need to learn Spanish.

If I was a fish, music would be nothing to me.

If I was a tadpole, I'd be lying belly up in the relief water from our pool.

Papi and I were putting the dreaded chemicals in to clean the cesspool that was greener than my lime tree, when he yelled out, "We have a problem!"

I went to see the matter.

Oh, but did we ever have a dilemma.

Hundreds of tiny tadpoles swimming around in the overflow area of our pool, that looked like sperm looking for an egg to attack.

We were BOTH terrified that they were ALL cane toads, and that we'd have dog killers growing in our back yard.

So, somebody had to do the deed.

I just couldn't do it.

Even though I know a cane toad can kill my dogs, I just can't kill the cane toad.

Papi put the horrid, raunchy chemicals, that make me itch just thinking about them, in the water.

A short while later, there they were, dead.

Only one left with the strength to give a flick of his little tail.

It felt awful, but damn!

Then a short while later, there was the salad I made with the fresh lobster I bought from my Pescado Pal.

I had just put the onions, tomatoes and fish in when I was called out of the kitchen by Mr. Sincere, who was fixing the system to our swamp water people would normally call a pool.

I came back in and there was Pathetic Puppy on the ground, already finished all the lobster, and working on the onions and tomatoes.

Not sure if you know this, but onions can be lethal to dogs.

So never mind the cane toad.

Nope, I almost killed our puppy.

Papi and I panicked like lunatics, googling everything we could find about inducing vomit after ingesting onions and how much to give.

We crammed that hydrogen peroxide down her throat and waited for the puke to arrive.

We waited.

Nothing.

Not only is she demon spawn who destroys all my underwear, bras, papers, cords, reusable shopping bags ...

... oh the list goes on ...

... but she has a stomach of steel.

What dog doesn't puke up hydrogen peroxide?

What dog can eat half an onion and still be running around like a lunatic?!?!?!

Pathetic Puppy.

She is the devil, with an iron gut.  I'm sure SHE wouldn't die from a cane toad.

Anyway, for the time being, if the boss at Dream Project says I'm in, I will be having my transportation paid for to get to the school that is a half hour away, as well as some meals covered and perhaps a little bit to compensate for my time spent eagerly working toward a job.

Hence, I will be fervently practising my Spanish for a while.

If I work hard and all goes well, I will have my first full time job in September.

Life really is moving.

I'm ready, even if those butterflies in my tummy tell me otherwise.

i am confident of my capabilities, expertise and know-how

peace?

What is this I hear?

Nothing?  No workers?  No children?  Silence?

It's almost as if I feel 'peace'.

Other than the puppies crawling all over me.

There's no more money to do the last of the finishing touches The Carpenter wants to do, so there's nobody working.

The dogs are free.

I'm free.

Papi has no money for his drugs of choice, so there's a forced sobriety at the moment.

I get a ray of peace in every corner of my day.

Of course, there is the Housemaid coming in an hour and a half, but that's only for an hour of work today as I won't have her clean upstairs to allow Papi rest.

Papi will be sleeping quite late today, as I gave him one of my pills I used to take for nerve pain, that tripled as an anti-depressant and knocked me out so I could sleep through the pain.

Papi will be knocked out for quite some time and have one of the best sleeps he's had in a while.

He's going to go through withdrawal from the clonazepam, because he ran out, so he definitely needs some sleep.

There's usually a silver lining to every hardship.  Being broke means he can't go buy pills and beer.

Anyway, I have some herbs I'll be force feeding him, without him knowing it, that should help wash the drugs out of his system faster.  "Here baby, have some orange juice," or, "I opened you a pop."

It doesn't matter how I get it in him, as long as I do.  It's tasteless thankfully.

Still, I feel like there's someone around me in the yard.

Every noise I hear I think it's the workers coming to ask for a trip to the hardware store, or to oversee something they're working on, or a question.  "Andréa!  Andréa!  Andréa!"

Every time the dogs run toward the gate I think it's another child just wandering in because they can.  "Andréa!  Andréa!  Andréa!"

It's almost like I have a bit of a P.T.S.D. reaction to people in my space calling my name.

There is a very good possibility that I have a line on work for the month of July though, so I'll be away from the house a lot, leaving Papi to fend for himself with the dogs and tail end of work that needs to be done.

Not to mention, chasing away the kids from the yard, yelling, "No Andréa aqui!"

It's also possible that I have a piano student.  Here, it's all about how cheap you can get things, so she's searching for the best price of a teacher, not the best teacher.

However, ANY money is money and that's how it goes here.  Everyone charges a lesser amount than the first person, just to get the job.

Desperation.  I feel it too.

So my normal charge of $40/hour piano lessons will be chopped to $15/hour.  I'm not shitting you, but it's balanced off by how affordable it is to live healthy here.

Nurses here only make $200 a month.  You don't come to the Dominican Republic to make money.

I have no idea how much the other month long job pays, I'll just be proud if I get it, because I would be teaching music to children with the Dream Project at their summer camp.

I went there looking to volunteer, and found that there's a possibility of work.  Not that I'll be making very much money, but I'll be meeting other musicians and people who speak English.

Who knows?  Maybe I'll meet that physical friend I need so badly?  Or that female percussionist I so badly want to collaborate with to get a new feel for music.

I went in to the Dream Project office on the way back from getting my negative results from Mr. Lumpy, which also happened to be the day the shit hit the fan with Papi's 'normal drinking'.

I needed to feel like I was starting a new life, with or without my love.  I needed to feel like I could still HAVE a life whether Papi was going down or not.

Anyway, the results were negative and I'm trusting their test that says that rat bastard lump is just a cyst now, and really don't feel like going for a 2nd opinion.

I'm done fretting over Mr. Lumpy.  If it turns out to be something that grows and is sinister, it means I get new boobs.

Not a bad trade.

But my time can be better spent right now.  I don't need to have the obsession of fear.

I need to experience peace.

i feel total peace with my powerful self-esteem

i want to be with the angels

What is it about being an alcoholic?

One week, your mind accepts you're an alcoholic, then a week later it says, "No problems here!  You're not having crisis anymore, so you can have a beer in the pool Papi!"

The last time I found him drunk in the pool, he was passed out and I had to slap his face so many times to wake him up, I thought he was already dead.

But no, he's learned his lesson, he says.

He won't let that happen, he says.

I cried myself to sleep wondering when the next big, near catastrophe experience will come in to play.

"It was only ONE beer!!!"

Yup.

And the next time it will be more.

Then the time after that, a little more.

Then I'll be hauling you, dead, out of the ocean because your sickness said you were invincible enough for a midnight swim.

Hey no problem.

I'll learn how to live alone with my grief.

I've done it enough in my life.

I tried to get some hugs from the dogs while I was in panic attack mode of the flashbacks of him lying dormant in the pool, me slapping his face to try to wake him up, over and over and over ...

The puppies were not into it.

Me lying in fetal position on the floor is only an invitation to lick the tears off my face, while occasionally french kissing me, and jumping all over me.

All I wanted was for someone to hold me while I was having a panic attack.

Instead, I got trampled on, and had to listen to, "I can have a beer every once in a while.  I don't see what the problem is."

Being that I'm a pro at suicidal thoughts, because I literally have them every day of my life, I was speaking to a friend about what suicidal ideation is.  Most of the time, it's really not about the act.

It's just about being so fucking tired and exhausted of crap and bullshit that you can't take it anymore and you ask if you could just be taken away.

Why can't the angels just take me?

Why do I have to have so many fucked up things to deal with in life?

Why can't I have a boring mundane life where everything just goes smoothly in it's monotonous, still waters?

No waves to bob up and down.

More like a lake where the most action you'll get is the woodpecker making a home.

I'm so tired, sick, scared and sad, all the fucking time.

I just need to be granted more than one day at a time of happiness.

Don't get me wrong.

Those days of happiness are amazing and I'm so grateful when they come.

But why just one?

Why can't I just have a stretch?

A dear sweet friend has had nothing but dud after dud when it comes to relationships.  She's probably the biggest heart on the planet, equal to mine, yet time and again, she finds another and he turns out to be the wrong one.

Why?

She's so beautiful and has got so much going for her.  She does everything she can to lead a positive life and say those positive words.  She is deserving of so much more.

I'm deserving of so much more.

Yet here we are, texting each other in tears asking the angels why they can't just take us away.

I want to be with the angels, because I've had enough.

In the meantime, I'll ask them for the strength to get through this life.

i attract only healthy relationships

survival.

Shit hit the fan yesterday.

Wasn't mine.  I'm feeling much better thank you very much and I'm also a good aim in the toilet.

We took the last pennies out of our credit cards and we're totally, 100% screwed.

Like, we have zilch and we have people to pay.

The DoorMan will wait a few weeks.  He's a patient guy and has lots of money until we do.  It's the hard workers in our yard that I'm worried about.  They live with very little and depend on our money to feed them and their babies.

We'll be living off staples for a while.  Hello rice 'n beans!  Food of the nation!

... if you like my blog, you could by me a coffee ... here >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Can you see me when I've run out of coffee, begging in the village for a cup, while haggard and out of my mind from the lack thereof?

I don't have anyone in the family who has an abundance of money, so I can't ask them.

Papi, well, he feels that he's been such a thorn in his family's side growing up that he can't ask now.

I reminded him that the last time he borrowed, he paid back.  That shows he's not the same bratty drug addict that just took, took, took.  That shows that we are responsible.

I'm brainstorming in how to get a job here, even though it could mean disaster, because Papi sleeps til quite late and someone needs to be up for everyone; The Carpenter, Dominican Daddy, Housemaid, Little Angel to be dropped off for a few hours.

But I think I need to try to find money for food, and I also need to remember that every time in my life that I've been this desperate, everything always works out.  I will ask the angels to help it work out.

It would be nice if Mr. Lumpy would lend a hand.  Goddam freeloader pops up without so much as OFFERING to paying rent.  That bastard has cost us $800 so far!

I emailed PanMan to say that I wanted to come and talk about how I can help him, and earn money at the same time.

I also thought about all the amazing wheat free, dairy free options in the world that aren't here on the island.

Hey, I need 'em.  I could distribute them, then I could have them and earn money at the same time, no?

It's going to take me way too long to find my musician people to make an income from.  That will come, but not right now.

I need money now.  Prince Papi couldn't even buy his orange juice yesterday!  The horrors!  He goes through 2 litres in a day and a half.  It's better than pop, but I'd sure like to see him on water.

One of those massive water jugs is only 40 pesos, which is equal to one buck and is healthier and definitely cheaper.

I've had to stop drinking the water from my machine, because I can't afford the filters, and we're going through them fast because we STILL don't have clean, healthy water.

Now, we need to buy a machine that will clean the water, akin to my little drinking machine, only for the whole house and pool.

That's a lot of work for a machine, so it's a big bugger, which is a lot of money, so it's gonna have to wait too.

At least it's not shit water anymore.  It's just really full of sediment, but still, I'm thinking that's where that last round of sickness came from.

Someone does owe us some money, and I've contacted them, but no response, so I guess I won't hold my breath on that one.

New 'rule': NEVER do money business with friends.  It inevitably ends with no friendship.  Keep them separate.

I've now lost 2 friends in 4 months due to money and it hurts, really, really hurts to lose friends over money.  From this point forward, money and friendship will never happen at the same time.

Unless I'm giving.  That's a different story.

I give a lot, but I also get screwed for it, like when in a heated moment, someone commented on how selfish we were because we only 'threw a few 20's their way' and that we could have given more.  Live and learn.

Anyway, it's time to try to find a job so that I can keep buying the locals' veggies and fish.

I'm so fucking scared right now it's got my PTSD on high.  Panic attacks galore.

You know it's bad when I look at what I have left of my chocolate and am thinking of how I can ration it out to last the 20 days before we get paid again.

Torture!

More importantly, the puppies and cats need food.  Looks like they'll be eating rice too.

This is where the fun begins and the stories of yesteryear happen.

Survival.

i prosper wherever i turn and i know i deserve prosperity of all kinds

what do you call the stage past 'fuck it'?

Papi and I needed a plan.

We waffled back and forth as to what to do.

When they did the biopsy, it seemed that the spot he made for taking the specimen wasn't where Mr. Lumpy was.

So, we're obviously going for a 2nd opinion, albeit, I'm bored of this game and have surpassed the 'fuck it' stage.

What do you call that stage?  What comes after 'fuck it'?

Well, whatever it is, we still had to talk about the plans and Papi wanted me to go back to Canada.

That caused me more stress than the new native to my body, Mr. Lumpy .

Couch surfing?

Living off take out?

Stress of getting around by bus with my bitch of a back that will inflict me with pain?

No thank you.

Then I called all the cancer places I could to see if there was any point in coming back or just staying put.

After calling 20 numbers, I finally got a human being who would speak to me at Willow Breast Cancer Support.

You want support?  Call them.  Because obviously, everywhere else could care less unless you're wanting to donate to 'the cure'.

We all know there won't be a 'cure' because they make too much money off the 'disease'.  But I'll get off my soapbox now.

So, after speaking to the absolutely lovely woman, she suggested my mother get the gene test, because she's already had ovarian cancer and it would be free for her.  If SHE has the mutated gene, then it would be free for me, too.

Sounds like too much work for someone who has surpassed the 'fuck it' stage, no?

Yes.

So, I spoke to my baby sister who became the big sister and had the plan set out for us:

1) Wait for results.
2) If the outcome is positive for cancer, off I go to live with her in Canada to get shit done.
3) If the outcome is benign, get a 2nd opinion when our insurance kicks in here July 1st.
4) Wait for results
5) If the outcome is #2, off I go to live with her in Canada to get shit done.  If the outcome is #3, ask my mother to get the gene test and make new plans.

Well, now that I've surpassed the 'fuck it' point and have calmed the fuck down, my gut instinct tells me there's nothing to worry about.

Mr. Lumpy is merely a part of me.

It now remains a little annoyance that my hand will go to day after day, with resentment for all the tears and worry it inflicted upon me.

Another story to add to the never ending drama that is my life.

So now?

We get on with things.

The garage is almost finished and ready for a door and window.

The trees around the casita are being hacked down to prepare for the last stage of renos so that we have an extra space for whatever we decide to do with it.

My veggie garden is budding and today, I will be planting more of my greens that I WILL be here to enjoy, because Mr. Lumpy is nothing but a speck of a nuisance.

The dogs have successfully destroyed more of my underwear.

I, too, have destroyed my underwear because of the Dominican valium.

Here's a forewarning for you.  Opt for the clonazepam and stay away from the valium.

However, if you choose not to listen to me and you have mass anxiety and panic attacks and desire to take the Dominican valium, don't fart.

It won't be a fart.

It will be a shart.

And that shart will be the biggest mess up your ass crack that you'll ever clean up in your life.

Maybe next time I take it, I'll wear some Depends.

Or perhaps just feel the emotions and hyperventilate.

Cleaning up a few tears is much less of a job.

i trust in the process of life

It's a bad day for The Donkey.

The Donkey goes in to see Dr. Bob to get fixed today.

She will look at us with the saddest face when we leave her, "You're abandoning me?!  What did I do?!"

Then when we pick her up, while she's depressed and lying in a cage, the face will say, "Whatever I did, I won't do it again."

I wish they spoke English so I could explain what's going on.  Hell, I'd settle for learning their language, if I could.

Old Ghost Face is in heat, but she's much to old to get fixed, so we'll just hide her from the other horny males in the 'hood who keep impregnating all the bitches.

So many pregnant dogs.  So many puppies killed because of it.

Why can't I be that rich person who could pay for all the animals to get fixed and stop the reproduction problem they have here in the Dominican Republic?

Not to make this into a billboard for promotion of the local program or anything, but if you feel like giving anything this year, here's the AAAS, their tax exempt donations, along with their wish list.

Anyway, back to Old Ghost Face.

When we went to the beach the other day, we left her in the yard for a short amount of time, as we didn't know what she might do.

Bolt?

Find a stud to take care of business?

After the mob calmed down, we let her out to join the masses to see what happened.

She stayed close by, because she loves her pack and her humans.  There was nothing greater than seeing that smile on her face.

First, there was trepidation that looked like she was thinking, "Is this a trick?  Are they trying to tell me to leave?  But I get 2 meals a day now!  WITH Alpo gravy!  I'm not leaving this yard."

Then, she took the brave slide down the sand that is slowly disappearing from our front area, as we need those massive boulders PRONTO before we wash away.

Next came the smile.

The, 'I'm so happy I could shit' smile.

I'll spare you the details on that one.

Never-the-less, it was successful, and as soon as she's out of heat, we'll take her on those treks to the beach, along with the pack who will also be exempt from making more puppies in this country.

Totally un-related, let's talk about how much love I received yesterday, when Our Fave's Mom and his sister came by to invite me to go play in the ocean.

The sweetest thing ever is when a child who isn't born to you, loves and trusts you enough to ask you to her hand while you go both go wading in the water.

Honestly.

It makes me so proud that the innocence of a child understands my heart.

Even if adults don't, a child and their intuition know that I'm here for good and I'm here for love.

Because of this sentiment, and the affection of friends who keep making an effort to remain in my heart, I can safely put aside all the politics, judgement and people who have dumped me because they're now part of the 'cool kids' who are on the 'hate the Hector-Browns' bandwagon.

... again ... my heart needs so much healing from the henpeckers ...

When a child wants to play with me in the ocean, doesn't see colour as a barrier, and asks for nothing but joy?

That trumps all.

Then we came to the pool, I pushed her around on the Princess Floaty Chair and she giggled and smiled while her mom had just a few moments to rest and watch.

She had time to just do 'nothing' but watch us in the ocean, in the pool, because the Little Angel was sleeping and Our Favourite was at school.

Rest, for the mama, for at least 30 minutes.

Probably felt like more to her, considering she goes non-stop because her husband is always working.

I keep offering us to babysit so she can have rest, but she hasn't taken us up on that yet.

However, she did say she was moving to Gaspar Hérnandez without her husband, to be closer to her sister, who is a HUGE help.

That made me sad, but until she actually goes, I'll appreciate the time with my DR Family and play with the little ones in the ocean as much as I can.

That child, and the friends back home who haven't left my side, make me stronger every day.

Truly, love is all that matters.

i know i am important