emotional upheaval

The greeting.

It was tremendous.

It was stupendous.

The Donkey jumped all over me, crying, "You're back!  I missed you!  I love you so much!"

It was the greatest greeting I've ever had.

Of course, the rest of The 6-Pack wanted a moment of a greeting as well, but they didn't have a chance.

It was a nice welcome after hearing some news that disturbed me.

I can't talk about it publicly yet.

I have to wait for him to speak about it first.

He's told a few people who are close to him, but that's his choice as to who he tells.

Funny, isn't it?

Mi esposo usually tells the world everything about himself.

Unfortunately, there are a lot of people who would worry too much if he said anything, and a lot of people who would come down very hard on him, which is not the answer right now.

Still, it is something to worry about.

Oh, I worry.

I worry and worry and worry.

You know how you can tell someone something that is bad, and they don't listen to you?

You know how you can always say, "I told you so," much later?

Well, that doesn't really matter when shit happens and you're terrified.

Like for instance, the car accident where I asked him to slow down around the corners, because he was going to fast, then he ignored me and we did a wipe out seconds later into the brush?

But we don't listen to people we love the most.

I'm not saying he's the only one that doesn't listen.

I don't listen to him a lot either.

Anyway, I suppose I can only talk about how I feel about this.

It could really be put into other topics for anyone else out there with these feelings.

I'm worried that there will be more disastrous repercussions.

Still, I'm worried there may be difficulties.

I'm scared of what could be worse.

There could have been a way worse outcome.

He is very lucky.

Really, we both are.

Both of us.

I don't sit in the present very much.

I jump to the future and freak out there.

That's my deal.

I spoke to a friend about it recently, and my friend has the opposite problem, they only live in the now and can't look to the future.

I so wish that I could have that problem, then I wouldn't see this as a problem.

I'd just see that right now, here, I have my love.

Right now, I am fortunate to have him as my other half.

Right now, is not the future and the fears I have.

Worrying will not change anything or make anything better for the future.

All it will do is give me more wrinkles and grey hair.

OK.  So, I suppose that's what I have to do right now: remember where I am and that everything is OK right now.

Everything is OK right now.

I'd like to stay here and be alright.

Right now is very good.

i am exactly where i need to be

lord help me.

Yay!

The internet is back on!

But now I can't remember what I was going to write about.

I had my thoughts all ready for an entire blog-o-rama monologue for you.

No idea now.

The other day, I was watching Jon Stewart and his guest was writer David Mitchell, who helped facilitate someone with autism write about what it's like to live with the disability.

He can't hold a conversation with someone, but he can communicate by typing quite well.

I immediately was reminded of my ICBC case when the lawyer said, "You so eloquently write in your blog every day.  You're trying to say that you have brain injury?"

It's so hard for people to understand my lack of memory.

Just a few days ago, Papi spoke about his drivers licence that he had renewed in Vancouver.

I said, "It came that fast?!?"

He sighed and replied, "Yes, and you've said the same thing twice now.  That it came so fast."

All I can do is giggle and accept that this is my brain now.

Now, I'll remember, and then move on to something else that I have no idea I asked about prior.

Or said prior.

Or did prior.

It's a crap shoot as to what I'll actually remember.

I have selective memory, only I don't get to choose what it is I remember.

Get stressed or over-tired?  I lose even more.

Yesterday's Spanish lesson was a gong show.  I couldn't even remember words I'd learned in Canada 4 months before we came here.

But I remember them today.

Papi thinks I use it a lot to my advantage.

That I just say I don't remember things.

Then I get stressed out about him saying that and I forget even more.

"How can you forget something so important?!?!?" I hear on a frequent basis.

Selective memory loss.

I feel like a bouncy orb in a pinball machine.

I just bounce from thought to thought, yet here, in my blog, I am able to stay focused on the topic most of the time.

At times, I fall off topic and start another one, realizing I've digressed after reading what I was already writing about and get back on track.

Yes.  I can write much better than I can remember, and generally, it takes me a good hour to write this short page, because as I read back what I've written, it triggers memories of other points I wanted to say.

But dammit if I can remember what I was going to write about.  Maybe the fact that my body is turning into a great whale from lying around all day?

I can't even tell you what I see in the mirror every day, and today we have to go meet with a bunch of expats for a DR1 Forum meet up.

I feel like crap.

I don't want to go meet people looking so horrible.  Then there's the fear of seeing the creep again.

My hair?  Maybe I was going to write about how my hair looks like a fire hazard on my head, or that I have found a hair dresser and now I just have to get the funds to pay for that cut.

Or maybe that I'm losing my mind because I'm not playing music?

Who knows what the hell I was going to write about.

All I know is, I wrote a blog today.

Good enough for me.

Oh fuck.  I just remembered and now I finished the blog.

OK.

I'll make a draft to write about the guy who attacked the tourist outside on our beach, tomorrow.

Fucking hell.

i have non-stop daily determination to reach my healthy weight

drunk crutching.

... your sunday sillies ...

I didn't think it out too clearly.

Well, the party I was invited to was actually a hang out with the entire village at the Isla Gas Station.

Party At The Gas Station!!!!!

It happens every weekend.

Only this time I was on crutches.

Some people were helpful, some people would just stand in my way, while staring at the out of place gringa.

Then there were the washrooms.

Remember when I told you about thighs of steel from not being able to sit on the loo?

Alright.  So, now that I only have one thigh ...

... ummmm ...

It was something short of a comedy routine.

This time, it was a task for my triceps.

They were shaking about while I tried my best to balance and hover over a toilet, all the while keep the crutches from slipping under the neighbouring stall, then falling on the urine infused floor with my shorts around my ankles.

At least, they were giving out napkins for toilet paper this time.

Not that it mattered.

By the time I was able to balance on one foot, reach in to my shorts pocket for the paper with the one hand that WASN'T holding me up with the other crutch, and hover just a little less to be able to do a functional reach around, piddle had dribbled down my leg.

Nice.

I was wearing white shorts.

Next came the task of wobbling back through all the people on the dance floor.

Now, this is hard enough for someone who has two feet.

Now, add in crutches.

Now, add in a pint of beer in my system.

Now, add in the assault of the speaker in your ear as you try to get past the distortion as quickly as possible, but not so fast that your crutches come out from underneath you, because the floor is slippery from spilled beer, and you have a frantic femme.

My balance is not so great at the best of times.

Alcohol will make that worse, crutches will make it even harder.

But I did it.

I finally made it back to my seat, sweating once more from the task I accomplished.

I was quite exhausted from the whole scene, and it made me not want to put any more liquid into my bladder.

Every single person who asked what happened immediately says, "Moto accident?"

Seems about right.

With the amount of people who drink and moto, there are so many of them who lose a limb on an average day.

To have a broken ankle from a moto accident isn't unheard of.

No, I do special stunts.

I like to fall off a wall, tearing a ligament in my ankle.

Now I just have to be sure that while I'm on crutches, I don't incur any more injuries.

The humiliation of piddle dribble was enough.

I don't need my 2nd cast of my life time on an arm because I slipped and fell because of crutches.

No, I stopped drinking quite early to be sure I didn't have a rebound injury.

Drunk crutching.

I don't recommend it.

i know how to adequately fuel my body

you win a car!

Sad, really.

We trusted you.

We said, "Sure, you're a single mom.  We'll let you have the car and you can pay us later when your case is settled with The Beast."

We had many people we could have sold it to and had money before we left, which we could have used, but we cared for you and trusted you.

Now, even with a contract you signed saying you'd pay us, you're not following through with it.

I guess because we're far enough away, it's easy enough to get away with it.

Does it feel right driving around in a stolen car?  If it does, you may want to check your morals again.

We considered small claims, but sometimes, letting people have their karma ...

... no pun intended ...

... is enough.

At a certain point, I walked away from the ex we share when I was suing her as well.

I didn't need the stress in my life and I just wanted to smile, not have a knot in my stomach from fighting.

We don't need that now either.

We'd rather let fate seal itself.

We are good people that you fucked over.

We were silly enough to trust someone that was that new in our lives.

Yes my dear, you did a good acting job.  I really thought you were a friend.

Turns out I am proven wrong and you're not the 'Sweet Ex' I thought you were.

My question really is, why?

And to the angels, I ask, "Why do good, generous people always get fucked over?"

Does it really pay to be generous and trust someone?

I'm not so sure.

I'm not hurting from the loss of friendship anymore.

It stung for a bit.

It made me feel sick.

But I've lost so many friends since our change of life, that you don't matter now.

You're now lumped in with all the other negative cretins, who tried to take away our happiness.

We had enough difficulty in this life change that we really don't need that kind of crud in our lives.

Yes.

We're walking away.

You can have your free car and all your 'friends' who seem to think that what you are doing to us is OK.

Think about it.

If 'they' think it's OK to steal from a friend, can you really trust 'them'?

I suppose someone like you doesn't care.

Don't worry.  You will get yours.

We may have lost money, but at least we didn't lose our generosity.

Maybe the fact that you don't know what a friend really is, is your suffering already.

But hey!  You win a car!

There is always a cost for every action we choose.

What will you pay?

i draw abundance to myself today, and every day

a full plate

sunday sillies...

I need to manage my time a little better.

Papi will tell you this is an understatement.

This actually has nothing to do with my brain injury.

I've been like this forever, but still, WITH a brain injury, it makes things really tough.

I forget what I'm supposed to do all the time and then at the last minute, I'm scrambling to get things done.

Then I'm stressed.

Then I'm a nightmare to be around.

I stressed myself out so bad that I didn't sleep all night Friday and couldn't teach the kids on Saturday.

I got Papi to put a 'no class today, Andréa is sick, sorry!' sign on the garage.

Sick is one way of putting it.

When I'm in that state of not being able to sleep from anxiety, 'sick' doesn't come close to describing it.

Then I spent all day yesterday frantically editing the YouTube show, and today, my panic is to get a song prepared for the kids at Dream Project tomorrow.

That one was sprung on me yesterday by MusicMan.

I'm not really responsible for that procrastination.

When a musician asks me to prep something, I never say no.

I just pull my hair out all day trying to show the world I'm good enough.

I feel like I'm always hanging by a thread.

I've always felt that way.

I see other musicians carry on with their jobs and I never see them sweat.

Mind you, they don't see me sweat.

I do that alone.

Then I show up and try to act like I'm a pro.

Perhaps that's what everyone else does too?

I don't know.

All I know is, today's mayhem will be learning the Marc Anthony song, 'Vivir Mi Vida' on the piano.

Thank g*d I know all the lyrics and the main themes of the song from teaching The Garage Band for the past month.

Phew!

At least I have a leg up on that one.

But the other night, I realized, I'm supposed to be having fun here.

This morning, someone asked me if I could teach them bass.

I actually said, "Not until September."

Me!

I admitted I was too busy!

I'm proud of myself.

However, it does have a lot to do with Papi.

He repeatedly tells me what he's learned from other expats; that here, you have to choose one thing a day.  You can't possibly do more than that in this country.

It's true.

I'm learning.

I'm here to enjoy my life, not be stressed!!

Alas, off I go to fret over a song for the kids tomorrow.

My only thing today.

Of course, that is other than washing my hair, toasting my coffee, cutting up the pineapple before it rots, doing the dishes, paying attention to the dogs, and more.

What's Papi doing?

His one thing a day.

Sleeping.

i do well in all my assignments and i love learning

the thug.

I was so afraid.

We drove 2 hours to meet the rescue dog and I knew I'd fall in love, but that didn't change the fact that perhaps he could be aggressive toward our others.

He was obviously used as the bait in the dog fights they have here.

The scars.

Oh, the scars.

Hundreds of them and some, really deep.

It's heartbreaking.

When he was dumped at the side of the road, the people who found him rushed him to a vet to take care of the horrifically terrible gouge on his chest.

They kept him in their yard while searching for someone to rescue him and give him the loving home he needs to repair his past.

They weren't taking any chances with their own Fuzzy Family by introducing him to them.

I don't blame them.

However, I suppose the poor thing was just not a very good fighting dog, as they wouldn't have just tossed him and his chain off to the side of the road if the fucktards thought he was worth keeping.

So, that gave me confidence that MAYBE, just maybe The Thug wasn't going to kill our dogs, but you still never know.

We picked up Pathetic Puppy from the AAAS after being sterilized and damn!  The Thug got a woody upon seeing her.

The Thug spent the rest of the ride home wanting desperately to get to the girl in the back.

I sat with her to protect her from the horndog in the front, and held on to his leash in front that was tied up to the holy-fuck-handle.

That damn handle comes in handy for more than just white knuckling it while Papi drives like a lunatic.

Anyway.

I still couldn't be sure if The Thug's pecker hanging out was for excitement of love, or excitement at getting in a fight.

Well, when we got home, we put Pathetic Puppy upstairs for her post-op rest, and released The Thug out to the rest of the hounds.

Unbelievable.

He fit in right away.

Everyone likes him.

Everyone got along.

The Donkey is thoroughly enjoying running around with him and The Thug is thoroughly enjoying marking everything he possibly can.

I hope the hundreds of scars on his head and body fade, as much as I hope his memories of a previous life do the same.

He's quite lovely and cuddly, even though I am definitely allergic to him.

I have welts and hives all over.

That doesn't matter.

Just means I'll have to wash my hands and arms a little more frequently.

Or hop in the ocean.

So far, he's working out just fine, and the AAAS will be PROMPTLY removing his balls tomorrow to dispel his testosterone.

Something else that is working out fine, is having let out my now not so secret secret.

So far, I haven't had too many people tell me I'm doing the worst thing possible.

The shame and embarrassment are pretty hard surrounding this.

Yet, that glass of wine after a long stressful day being lost in the bumpy, dirt roads of the Dominican Republic mountains, with a battered, emotionally damaged dog who would give Dave Batista a run in the ring, was just the thing I needed to defuse the day that never seemed to end.

It truly is all good.

i am supported

just love me

Well, Chantal was pretty calm on this side of the island.

Yeah, I drove through some heavy rain, and the thunder was AMAZING!!!

But there was no wind and nothing to write home about.

However, I guess I do have something to write home about; the lack of entertainment mother nature provided yesterday.

I was anticipating encountering my first true, tropical storm.

People on the south of the island got hit quite hard and unfortunately, one person died.

They had a lot of flooding and no power.

They looked a bit like Toronto or Calgary in Canada this past Spring.

Us?  Well, our gardens got quite the feeding yesterday.

Because Papi and I were not ready for our anniversary, our day was celebrated by lying around in bed, oohing and ahhing at the lighting and thunder, and watching the first episode of Dexter.

Ooooh that new character is a good one, but damn, that show is not the same with the bleeping of every 'fuck', 'shit' and blurring of boobs.

We also looked for our dwelling for our anniversary vacation, but everything is booked.

Talk about leaving things to the last minute.

We suck!

Mind you, things have been a 'tad' hectic around here.

I remembered about our anniversary the last week of June, then of course, stress set in and out the back door went that memory.

At least I beat Papi to the punch of being the first to say it on our day.

I waited and waited for him to wake up, and at the crack of 3 p.m. I turned off his air conditioning and up he was!

I also took the opportunity to yet again, email someone I thought was a friend, who owes us money.

Here is my newest 'rule' of life.

Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, put money between a friendship.

Give!  Yes!

We gave to a friend in need yesterday, when her poor sweet kitty needed medical attention and she had no money.

Yes, we give, and we receive when we are in need as well, no problem.

But selling, renting, or any other 'business' with a friend is now off limits.

First of all, we've been waiting for the money for a few months past when she said she'd pay, but the worst part?

I've lost a friend, because she won't even speak to me.  She won't even return my emails.

Most people, when I tell the story to them, they merely say she was never a friend to begin with and that I haven't lost much with someone who is dishonest.

However, I am sad.

I am always sad when I lose a friend that I love, and go through all the steps of grieving what's vanished.

No matter what it is they do to hurt me, no matter how much anger I feel, I am still sad at the disappearance of someone I considered a friend.

I just want to be loved, and I swear, it's one of my top missions in life.

Love me.  I just can't handle the rejection.

Yet somehow, not only am I rejected by one person, I seem to get entire PODS and cliques who ostracize me with one word from their leader who tells them to do so.

I suppose, people only do this to people who seem strong, to try to knock them down.

I suppose, people see me as strong.

I suppose, all those who tell me I am, are correct.

I suppose, what I gain when someone hurts my heart, is my spirit is pulled closer to those who are endless with their love for me.  It shows me just how good people CAN be in this world.

Still, my poor little heart aches when I have experienced the failure of a friend.

My dear, you have indeed wounded me.

Maybe everyone was right, that you never intended to pay us the money, even though you wrote us a contract.

Fool me once.

Indeed, your karma awaits.

i receive all feedback about a decision with love, but make the final call myself

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

butterflies

... your sunday sillies youtube show ...

I couldn't figure out why my tummy was rumbling with butterflies and I was irritable, then depressed, then angry all in a matter of an hour.

Then it dawned on me.

I've not been thinking about Mr. Lumpy, because I allowed myself to just go with it being a cyst like everyone said.

However, I did keep my 2nd opinion appointment, just to be sure.

I was going to cancel it until Jersey Girl told me not to mess around and get a 2nd opinion, considering the treatment she got at the same hospital.

So, tomorrow I won't be here to write to you, as Papi and I will be en route to the capitol 3 hours away.

It occurred to me that once that appointment neared, I got a little scared.

Even though I thought it was a cyst for a month, knowing I'm going in for tests makes me queasy and cranky.

I checked on Mr. Lumpy to see how he was doing, and it seems he's decided to get a little bigger.

No matter.

Cysts grow.

Then last night, I was lying in a different position and gave him a grope.

I just about puked.  There are 3 lumps now.

Do cysts do that?

Grown in clusters on a lymph node?

I'm going with that.

They grow in clusters.

Not to mention, even if it is only a cyst, that bastard has to get a move on, because it's starting to show on the side of my breast.

I don't need a third breast sticking out.

That's just not sexy.

Anyway, needless to say, Mr. Lumpy has made my stomach turn and I'm really uncomfortable with the fear that has returned.

For fucks sakes.

But!

The good part is, is I have had so much good happen in the past month with all the kids that they kept me pre-occupied and I didn't think about it much at all.

I had a little brain break.

Now, the stress headaches are back.

Even though we're going to Santo Domingo for the appointment, there's still some good to look forward to.

The music store!!!

I felt so good after I went on Google Maps and figured out my driving route to get me to the hospital and to the store.

I've pretty much mapped it out in my head and it's really easy.

There won't be any driving around aimlessly like last time.

Then I saw it.

Ikea!!!  It's on our route as well.

Yes!

Those two stores after the appointment will cheer me up.

Mr. Lumpy, you really have to go now.

Today I have another good distraction.

It's the Canada Day Celebration in Cabarete.

Crazy, eh?

They're giving us Canucks a day to remember who we are, even if we are living in paradise.

I wonder if there will be fake snow?

i let go of negative obsessive thoughts

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

the place of 'health'

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

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

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

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

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

His eye had some redness.  Maybe an infection?

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

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

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

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

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

Then she tells me I smell.

Yup.  You got that right.

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

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

Well, SHE thought it was funny.

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

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

Drinking water.  This is not Canada.

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

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

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

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

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

It seems to be a daily occurrence for me now.

Papi was reading that our car is a target.

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

Expensive cars have connections.  No point pulling them over.

But mid-cars?  Like a Toyota Corolla?

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

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

And I mean TOSS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because every day is an adventure.

i rejoice in the love i encounter every day

pass the clonazepam

Today is a lovely day for a biopsy, no?

Sound like fun?

Massive needles stuck into my boob.

Nice.

I did really good in the fear departement yesterday until bedtime.

What is it about bedtime that makes my mind crazy!?!

Since I was a kid, I've had anxiety galore before going to sleep.

When I was a kid, I was afraid I'd go to sleep because I thought I would forget how to breathe and die.

Yes.

I'm a well trained drama queen.

I didn't know that our bodies were just equipped with the know how to continue breathing.

Well, that is of course until you have a panic attack.

Then there is no breathing.

Which is what would happen when I was a kid, when I worried about not breathing when I slept.

Or when I'd get overwhelmed with learning that the universe just kept going on and on forever.  I think that was the day I blew my mind and the rest of my insanity is history.

Then there were the times I wouldn't breathe when I was a teen, worried about the next predator that was hiding behind garbage cans and bushes as I walked home alone from the bus stop after a shift at McDonald's.

And the big ones?

They really started coming after the motorcycle accident when I had flashbacks of smashing into the car ... over ... and over ... and over ... echoing as if edited in a loop, blinding me with a movie screen that drops in front of my eyes, hindering me from seeing any beauty in life.

I've been having panic attacks since finding Mr. Lumpy.

And now?

As I write this, I just gave myself another one thinking about all the panic attacks I had and from what.

Seriously.

I know there's going to be nothing wrong with whatever Mr. Lumpy has in store.

I know that it's all going to be OK, because everyone else's intuition says it will.

I'm going with everyone else's intuition, because mine is so fucked up right now.

I had a very successful pajama day with Papi yesterday.  The kids didn't find us until much later when they realized they could see us up in our bedroom, then the chorus of, "Andréa!  Andréa!  Andréa!" began.

I just didn't move from my spot, pretending I was asleep.

I did my best to distract myself with editing, trying my hardest to get my new keyboard to work so that I could at least make some music to help ease my mind, and then there was that daunting task that we all hate but need to do; cleaning up my computer files.

There came a point, however, that all of that had to stop and I needed to try to sleep.

That's when the thoughts of today came.

Terror for the pain they will inflict upon Mr. Lumpy, who will in turn, bite my nerve endings having me jump to the heavens.

Papi said to take some pain killers before we go in.  He's always thinking, my love.

They don't really give you pain killers here like they do at hospitals in Canada.

If you need them, the doc comes, gives you a prescription and whoever is your caretaker has to go and get them from the pharmacy.

Seriously.  So odd.

So, having that information after seeing it happen with Our Fave's Mom after her C Section, we at least can take matters into our own hands and take the pain killers BEFORE he starts the torture chamber proceedings.

Am I scared?  Hell ya.

Then there are the two days I have to wait for results, even though, like I said, it's all going to be OK because all my Eternal Friend tells me so.

Still, she's not here in my brain.

Mr. Lumpy is.

I think I'm going to be sick.

every cell in my body vibrates with energy and health

OK Mr. Lumpy. Bring it on.

... your sunday sillies are HERE as blogger just wont let me share them on my damn blog ... but they can't stop me from linking them mwahahahaha!!!  um ... yet ...

Sometimes, when you're worried about a health ailment, the WORST thing to do is Google information about it.

However, in this case, some of it was a good thing.

80% of breast lumps are non-cancerous.

94% of women who get biopsies find the bastard offender to be benign.

So I'm going with that.

I'm also going with positive thinking for the worst case scenario.

'They' keep trying to kill me.

Whomever 'they' are.

I can't tell you how many times in my life I've been inches from death, but I never die.

Only the good die young.

You can't kill me.

So, I won't die.

That doesn't mean I won't agonize.  Sometimes, I feel that my lot in life is to suffer and show other people how to do it.

Never-the-less, I haven't really spoken about this because there's never been a need to, but since I was a budding adolescent, I've never wanted my breasts.

I've wanted them gone.

If this little bastard on my lymph node is sinister, the presence of my fat sacks will be dismissed and the Hector-Browns will be on round two of The Great Breast Disappearance.

I'm perfectly happy with that.

Get rid of them.

Because of the cancer in my family, they've been nothing but a fear trap anyway.

I guess that's why I'm so good at giving myself self-examinations.  I learned young and have been avid enough that I found a lump that wouldn't even show on the mammogram.

They had to use the sonogram to see it, even though they could clearly feel it's inhabitance beneath my tissue.

Ladies, check yourselves.  Every day.  Every goddam day.  Thoroughly.

OK.

Off my soap box.

So, with knowing that nothing can kill me, and that worst case scenario I finally have the reason to lose these dumpy duffels, really, is there anything to worry about?

I slept without too much help last night.

I used the natural stuff; Rescue Remedy.

When I woke up in the middle of the night and my first thought was that bastard leech on my pouch, I zotted myself with another dose and quickly fell to sleep again.

So, I'm feeling much less afraid today, and tomorrow is the biopsy.

Then I have to wait 2 days for results.

What's the point in freaking out?

It won't change any outcomes.

Every time I start to get scared, I'll just think, "Bring it on bitch.  I've been through enough in my life that you don't scare me for a second."

I'll also think, "You can't kill me.  Many have tried."

I've already moved into joking about it, as if Mr. Lumpy is a separate living being.  If Papi isn't doing something I want, I say, "But I have a lump."

From now on if I want him to do something he doesn't want to do, "Mr. Lumpy says to do it."

Fuck it all.

I've cried, I've been nauseas, I've been depressed, I've obsessed and none of it has changed anything.

You can't kill me.

But damn, this headache and exhaustion can certainly take me down a few notches.

i have abundant courage

thermo-nuclear meltdown

Meltdown.

Not because of the lump in my breast, per se.

The doctor relieved a bit of my fears by telling me that a lump wouldn't hurt to touch, plus it can move around, so it may be ok.

However, it is RIGHT on my lymph nodes, so it's worth investigating.

Calmed my fears a bit, but still, the stress is difficult.

It's not just the stress of the breast.

There's just so much to deal with and sometimes, it's overwhelming.

I can only do so much and with Papi having debilitating depression, I'm kinda left holding the ball.

When I have enough energy and time to clean the house, it's still a disaster no matter how hard I try.

I have people calling my name at all hours until the sun goes down.

We've got people trying to make our lives miserable by threatening to call the police on us for cutting down some trees that are impeding our electricity lines.

The land isn't theirs, but they saw the banana tree first, so they claimed it.  The land belongs to an American who hasn't done anything with his acres, but they decided the banana tree was theirs.

Bananas grow like weeds here.

I'm not kidding.

I just removed 5 from my yard that popped up and already there's two more to get rid of.

Did you know they are actually weeds?  Yeah.  I didn't either until now.

I'm constantly running around pulling them out of the ground as fast as I can.  I don't like bananas, and if I let them grow, they'd push out my mango.

I am in love with my mango tree.

You don't fuck with my mango tree.

Anyway, when our 'friend' threatens to call the police on us about a tree that ISN'T on his land, it makes us a little more than upset.

We apologized profusely, stating that we didn't know the tree was his, because it's not his land, then bought him a beer of regret, and told him I'd give him MY bananas when they're ready.

Then he went ahead and cut down more stuff in the lot that doesn't belong to him and told us WE have to pay for it.

When his family and friends got involved in supporting him that we needed to pay, we caved and gave him the money to keep the village from forming a mob attack.

Yeah.

This is living with the people that my one 'friend' judged then dissed me about for putting up a wall.

Well, she's not really a 'friend' anymore.  She's part of the cool kids now.  On the 'hate the Hector-Browns' bandwagon.

Put that all together with never ending work and the fear about how we're going to eke through with what little money we have, and you have Hurricane Andréa.

It's not just the lump in my breast, but I'll tell you, that definitely put the cherry on top.

I lost it last night.

I rib Papi for taking too much clonazepam, but sometimes, I'm just so happy he has it in his possession, because when I can't stop crying out of fear, exhaustion, anger and frustration, those little gems just knock me out and I sleep through the night.

Well, after my sleep and my meltdown, today all I'm left with is depression.

That's a little better than all-out, hysterical, hyperventilating crying.

After 2 pm, we'll find out how everything is with the mammogram I had yesterday.

Which, I might add, was VERY uncomfortable having a male nurse push my little teets all over the place.

I know he's a pro, but damn, can't they find a woman for these sensitive times?

He was nice enough, but I'll tell you, I was grateful I was stinkin' to high heaven with smelly armpits so that I didn't have an ounce of 'sexy' in me and he ran for the door when finished.

Since my visit to the doctor, I'm pretty sure it's just a cyst.

It's just that until I get final word, all I do is obsess.

Obsession is bad for my brain.

Not much I can do about it until we get this day over with and hear the good news from the doc himself.

Meltdown.

hardship helps me grow into a better person

mañana never comes

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

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

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

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

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

We had a light show the other night.

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

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

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

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

Somewhere in this is learning for me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Papi keeps saying all this will end.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Take me away.

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

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

waves crashing

The angels DO have a sense of humour.

I was at the hardware store, yet again, where I'm becoming part of the scenery, and I was waiting patiently for The Carpenter to get his wood, concrete, nails etc. that he needed.

I'm really only there to pay, as I'm just a walking wallet.

Anyway, I was waiting for him to return and was missing my HECTOR cohort, wishing we could play some music together now that my bitch of a back is being friendly.

The ticket to get here is quite expensive, so I can't just see my Drummer Boy just hopping on a plane to come make music.

Nor can I see him leaving behind The Turkey, my first godson, so I was just wishing that someway, somehow, I could have tons of cash to fly him here to the Dominican Republic to play some shows.

My Bluelight ex-buddy has enough cash to come here, and I miss her as well, but chances are that she's mad enough at me that she will NEVER forgive me enough to visit.  Chances are I could never trust her friendship again anyway.

But there I was wishing I had money.

I went into the hardware store to pay, and the first amazing thing happened, that worker that I said I'd win the heart of, gave me a hug, saying, "I like you.  You're my friend."  Accomplished!  Won his heart!  Bad Spanish and all!

Then within moments, the PanMan came in.

He's the one the angels sent me the other day, when I really needed to hear some words of wisdom.

I bought a bunch of snacks for for Papi, as he asked how we were doing.

We spoke a while about the ups and downs, how hard it is to live here.  He understood fully when I spoke about having lost our cat, and that Papi is really down.  Really depressed.

Mostly from grieving, but also because we're both stressed the fuck out about money.

He told me there would be an opportunity for Papi to work for him if he liked.  It would be in sales for the land he has, not to mention, the eco-tourism that he needs promotion for.

I explained that it would be a job for me, not for Papi, that Papi doesn't like sales, but I'm a natural born hustler.  I'll work hard, and try my best, even if I fail.

I told him I'd email him again and look at options for working with him.

I strolled back to the car with my bag of bread in hand, looking to the sky for my angels, saying, "You really are funny, you know that?"

So, maybe I need to ask them to help Papi a bit more.

He's really in a rough state, in his own Pit of Doom.

He knows everything he needs to do to get out of his depression, but he just can't do it.

Not to mention, I'm not able to persuade him to do those things, or he'll get upset telling me, "You think I don't know that?  You don't remember I worked in mental health and told people that every single day of life?"

Yeah.

I know you know that Papi.

I just want so badly for you to feel better.

Just like the PanMan said, "You have to ride the waves.  They go up, they come down, but you are never in one place.  If you're down, the law is you have to come up.  But when you're up, you also have to come down."

Couldn't have said it better myself.

Papi and I had gone to the beach yesterday, because it was the country's day off of work.  A day to celebrate workers and they got a day off with pay.

We went to the beach with the masses.

It was my first time to the Sosúa Beach.  As I floated, I looked to the sky and spoke to the angels, "Thank you for this opportunity to play in the waves.  Thank you for giving me a break today and letting me just float here.  Thank you for the ocean."

I have more to thank than for just the relaxing day we finally got to have.

I have to thank the waves for allowing me to ride them.

Come back up Papi!

Your wave has to come back up.

It's crashing a little.

i am passionate about doing what i need in order to increase my fortune

Gratitude List, Day 7/10
1. I am grateful the angels keep sending me words.
2. I am grateful I keep looking for the angels words.
3. I am grateful I worked to get myself out of my depression.
4. I am grateful for the ocean to help heal my back.
5. I am grateful for people genuinely liking me.
6. I am grateful for people who have been mean, so that I know what good people are to me.
7. I am grateful for friends who support me.
8. I am grateful to feel loved.
9. I am grateful for the small opportunity that may be to make an income.
10. I am grateful for Papi to ride these waves with.

well ...

We talked about it.

We're really not in a financial position to pay for a child.

Now I have to break the news to Our Fave's Mom.  This is going to feel bad.

Yet, not as bad as being tapped financially and having regrets and resentment later.

I didn't get a veggie garden and fruit trees SOLELY because I like them.

Lord knows I'm lazy and would rather just buy my food from the store.

I did this to prepare for our near future.

We need to live off our own land as much as possible to keep our costs down.

If we need to keep our costs down for us to be financially well in the future, then we certainly can't afford to support a little person.

Again, I'll give the children in the village my time.

I wanted to start the children's choir in April, but here we are at April and we're not settled yet.  There's still too much stress to start thinking about lesson planning et al.

We also found out there's another repair that really stung.

I haven't wanted to talk about it, because I wasn't ready to accept it, but our well started out clean for our healthy water, but has quickly turned dirty again.

Our 1st plumber we had was here to help us with the pool, because it had problems and when I told him about the new well and the water, he just looked at me and told me as sweetly as possible that we wasted our money.

The well doesn't work and was built for no reason.

We need a different system with a filter to have our clean water.

So, when I thought we were only in the hole a little bit for what we originally set out to spend, I realized the tear in our pocket just got a little deeper.

The well is going to be taken apart and beautiful plants will be put there, or maybe another fruit tree.

We just got the yard repaired from all the damage the pool workers did and now it's going to be dug up once more for more work.

Ugh.  It truly never ends.

I had such a nice skype chat with my Eternal Friend yesterday, and she told me that the 3 months it took her to adjust had nothing to do with all the repairs etc. we had to do with Casa Paraíso.

Hence, our 3 months is looking like maybe it will take us 5 or 6 months to settle in.

Jeeeeezus.

I sure hope there's an end in sight and we can just start living.

Then, maybe I'll have time to find true friends I desperately need here.

I have accepted the fact that my true friends are not going to be people that are here in the village.

There's nothing wrong with being loving and friendly toward everyone.  I genuinely have so much appreciation for everyone here.

However, we could never understand each others lives, never having lived in one another's shoes.

My shoes look awfully fancy to everyone here.

Yet, I look next door at Mr. Richy Rich and think his shoes are just a little shinier, so my judgement is no different than anyone else.

I guess I could never understand HIS life, either.

All I want is love.  It's really all I ask for.

I say the wrong things a lot.

I do the wrong things a lot.

People dislike me for it and I'm a proud member of The Pariah Club, because I know we're all on this world learning together, and I understand other people's mistakes, as long as they're a good person in their core.

None of my mistakes take away from the fact that my heart is always in the right place.  As long as I have guidance from people who still have love for me, I'm happy.

All I want is to be loved.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go dodge the raindrops that are teeming in our bedroom.

Oh, Mr. Carpenter, could we get this roof done pronto!?!?!

i see myself realistically and objectively

Water, water, everywhere

Water was coming dripping through various parts of Casa Paraíso.

Oh so pleasant.

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

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

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

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

Don't get me wrong.

I actually like the rain here.

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

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

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

Anyway, back to the rain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All the necessities.

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

... ahem ... the roof ...

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

No problem!  Everything is fine!

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

Seriously.

We are a little stressed out for money.

No matter.

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

The dogs are Dominican.

They're used to rice.

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

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

Especially with The Donkey jumping on us all the time.

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

'Broke' is going to be ok.

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

And the hammock swings.

my wealth is increasing more and more now

nowhere to hide ...

I feel a little speechless, but I'm sure that will end once I start to type a few words.

Before the motorcycle accident, I would use music to hide from the problems of my world.

I don't have my music system set up yet.  I still need a few pieces.  There are so many other priorities that get attention first, that neither of us gets to play.  It's all work.

Today we deal with the electrician, carpenter, car mechanic, the person for rocks, and the security system people.  Those are just the things that I have to buzz around and watch people do.

Then there's the dogs who need serious training, Papi needing to put handles on all the doors and finish putting our security cameras through the concrete walls, and somewhere in there, I try to make a healthy meal to counter attack being in a constant sweat from running up and down stairs, and in and out of the yard all day long.

This is a typical day.

There's a reason we're both feeling stress.  This is how it has been since the day we arrived.  As soon as one thing is done, another zaps us of our energy.

After all of the above is finished, then we need to get all new shutters for our house, because the sea air has completely destroyed what is currently here, then after that is completed, we need a new roof for the house and carport.

It may seem like that is all someone else's job, but it's not really.  We are in need of constant communication with people, and mostly that's my job, because I'm the one who speaks Spanish.

So, when I look at how Papi had difficulty dealing with the stress of it all, the guilt of leaving G'ma behind and just wanting to escape reality, I can understand the 'why'.

One thing I can't understand, is people who have NEVER been in Papi's situation of leaving behind G'ma, judging him.

If they knew how much love and how many years of care he put into helping her, and just how much work it is dealing with someone with Alzheimer's, they'd shut their trap and tell Papi it is indeed time to live his life.

They add to his already debilitating guilt when they say, "How can you leave her?" making Papi feel even worse.

To all of you who would judge: walk a fucking mile in my love's shoes and you'll see.  Until then, shut your fucking traps.  She's in a care facility that cares for her WELL beyond what we could ever do for her.

We thought of kidnapping her and bringing her here, but she doesn't want to be here.  She wants to be with her church people.  So there she stays.

Anyway, yesterday seemed as though things may be getting better.

I trusted that he wasn't going to drink, but only because there was no more alcohol in the house.

We keep beer here for the workers.  Their eyes light up at the end of the day when we pass them a can.

My love got that generosity from his G'pa.  Workers get a beer at the end of their day, in a small effort to say, "Thank you," beyond the paycheck.

So, alcohol is in the house, but it's just not a good idea right now.  Papi is in a weak place.

Yesterday, the last can was distributed, and our car was taken away by the mechanic to complete the repairs.

So, I guess to be fair, it wasn't really trust that had me relaxed yesterday, it was more like we were stranded and there was no mischief for him to get into.

But still, I felt lighter yesterday.

I still can't help but think the best and feel that Papi is serious when he says he 'doesn't want to be another Whitney Houston' dying by being drunk and drowning in the pool.

Since the last few days, I look at that pool and all I can see is my love, bobbing around in the floaty seat in the middle of the night, passed out with a beer cradled on his stomach.

It will take a while for that image to get out of my head.  The pool looks like the enemy right now.

That is of course, with the exception of when The Donkey goes in for a dip.

She walks right in, heads out to the middle, paddles around for a while with a massive smile on her face, then returns and sits on the top stair to chill.

Right now, it's HER pool.  I like it.  It takes away from the bad memory I see every day.

Maybe one day, there won't be any more workers in my yard, and I can enjoy the pool and make better memories for myself.

However, for right now, I look at that floaty seat and think how close I was to the possibility of losing mi esposo to alcoholism.

That disease will get you one way or another.

There is no escape.

I wish I could make some music to take myself away.

Far, far away.

i believe in my ability to unlock the way and set myself free

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