wild wild west.

It's bloody crazy here.

The wild west you could say, or the chaotic caribbean.

So, we had a guy attack a tourist right down from our house on beach the other day.

It doesn't happen too often, and actually there are more predators in Canada than there are here.

But I can't imagine how scared that poor girl was.

She was renting a house 4 doors down for a vacation, went walking along the beach and a guy grabbed her, tearing her bikini top off.

Police and the good men of our village were out scouring the beach trying to find the piece of shit offender.

I hope they found him.

Unlike in Canada, where men get to repeat their offences after a small stint in jail, here, well I probably don't have to tell you what happens to scumbags here.

They actually get what's coming to them.

I am grateful for my tattoos.  Men here generally think I'm an insane biker chick because of them and they don't attack me, even if my tattoos are just flowers and birds.

But today?  We had more to deal with than just the creep in the hood.

This morning, we started our day with a royal fight with the Housemaid.

You see, a few months back, we were going to get massive rocks out front our house to keep our pool and wall from being washed to sea.

We couldn't afford the rocks right away, but the Housemaid told us we had to pay Mr. Extortion now, or the price would go up later.

We did.

I then asked for the papers for permission and the Housemaid said, "Oh, you don't need it.  When it's time to do the rocks, I'll just talk to them and tell them you're starting."

I asked for the papers to make sure this was all on the up and up, but she assured me I didn't need them.

Today, we were getting a bandaid put on our property.  A bunch of sacks of concrete to keep until we can afford the rocks.

Mr. Extortion, also known as 'The Marina', who are the biggest fucking thieves in the country, came and said we had to pay to put the protective bags there.

We said we already did.

They said, "No, that guy isn't here anymore and there's was a 3 month window you had to do it in."

Right.

So, they conveniently left that part out, OR they know how things work here and know that the Housemaid took that money and are covering for her.

We have no way of really knowing which it is, but today, there was Papi, red hot in the face and ready to forcibly remove her from the property, because we've had enough of the lies and stealing.

I've never seen him this mad.  I was almost laughing, because of my super power, giggling, when I get too uncomfortable.

We played good cop, bad cop unti I got her to admit that she took the money from the building of the wall and that she stole our paint and lied about it.

I knew the truth about these things all along, but today, I got her to apologize for them and admit them.  All I wanted was honesty.

I then told her, "You fix this.  We trusted you.  If this gets fixed, you can still have your job here.  If not, you'll have to go.  I told you when you started that we can only have honest people.  We need to be able to trust you.  You are in our house!"

Honestly, the main reason we hire people here for work is because the entire village is their family and we know how protection here works.

We need to have the security of having everyone in the village on our side.

So we hire them for work, and everyone takes care of us, because we are paying for their children to go to school.

But still, we pay.  And pay some more.  And get robbed.  And then pay some more.

I've never experienced such insanity in the cushy country of Canada.

Well, except from the politicians who like to steal from us.

Here?  It's everyone.  Politicians, friends, workers, and that rat bastard Mr. Extortion 'Marina'.

I understand how people become so fucking jaded here.

And people judge us for having a wall and guns?

I think it's time to build a sniper tower.

i am redefining what it means to trust

what to do?

All I want to do is sleep.

Pain meds will do that to you.

However, Housemaid has other plans for me.

After it took ALL DAY just to get downstairs, make breakfast, pay a bill and buy more pain meds, I told her, "I think I'm staying bed for a few days."

My intention was that I would just stay in bed until Papi came home.

She was shocked and said, "No!  Andréa!  My friend invited us to a party!  You HAVE to go!"

I'm not too good at these crutches.

My balance is bad enough with 2 legs.

I've tried to shower, but having that one leg out of the shower doesn't make for a completely clean body.

I feel like a sticky mess, and now I'm supposed to look pretty for a party?

Plus, I'm sweating so much from working these aluminum gizmos.

At least I got a lot of Spanish studying accomplished over the last few days.

I really was meant to slow down.

When I'm better though, I need to work hard.

We just figured out how much we owe for all the bills we incurred from Casa Paraíso, and damn, it's NOT good.

We're going to be living QUITE frugally for quite a while.

No problem.

Prince Papi will have a crash course in how it was for me for all those years when I lived EastSide.

I had MANY years of practise, and here, it's just part of life.

Most people live dangerously on the edge, yet still have enough money for beer.

I can get a sugary treat for 10 pesos when I'm jonesin' for it.

Or make a chocolate bar last 6 days by only having one chunk a day.

Then Papi told me that the wife of the creep has begged me to come back to teaching.

Part of me wants to go under the conditions that he's not there.

However, no money in the world can make up for the possibility that something could happen with this guy.

Yeah, I need the money, but is there a chance that I could get raped for teaching?

Or suffer more disgusting comments that he somehow thinks are appropriate?

Wife says he would never hurt anyone.  Of course she says that.

All I know is, I responded to the wife and explained that I would not be in a safe environment, but she asked if I could teach her child in a different house.  Like maybe a neighbour's house.

What if the creep sees me?

Do I continue, because I need the money, and trust that he will leave me alone if he sees me?

Or do I continue on, looking for other students, eating less chocolate?

Would I be doing the wrong thing by going against my word of keeping myself safe?

Or would I be empowering myself by attaining an income under my terms?

All I know is, the creep never told her what it was he did.

She said he mentioned 'something about my skirt flitting up with the wind'.

Right.

Dude.

You left out the part about your pecker standing at attention, pointing to it and telling me that was 'my fault'.

What to do?

I could really use the money.

i know my inner self will guide me to the right decision

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

i can do this.

OK.

So I'm a sick puppy.

I never said I wasn't.

Papi said it's not right of me to speak publicly about just how deranged I can get at times.

Hey!

What kind of entertainment would you have if I didn't?

Anyway, I'm feeling a lot less self-destructive today, although I now have to deal with the Anorexia Monster who took over 3 days ago.

Still, this is a substantial start.

We spoke last night, long after his 'normal drinking' didn't lead to doom and destruction, and he told me it's also not right of me to talk about his business.

Fair enough, I apologized.  I'll do my best to keep this to my problems.

However, I'll tell you something.  Someone out there, right now, is going through the same fucking emotions as I'm going through right now.

They're dealing with the same pain.

They need to hear that they are NOT alone and can get through it too, by being honest.

I am not ashamed of my lunacy.

It is who I am.

I was born this way.

Trust me.

I put my mother and my baby sister through hell when my utter unsound mind kicked in at the age of 10.

I was given the gift of music to help me through these times, only I can't use it right now, because my recording system is so fucked up.

So, I have to do what I can to survive these emotions.

My best technique is to write to 'you', who are either here to enjoy the madness, here to see that I'm ok, or here to relate.

But hey, the crazed cleaning was pretty nice.  I've never had a house so in order.

Judge me and call me crazy if you like.  It's the truth.

I know WHO I am.

I also know I'm married to someone who shares similar mental illnesses.

Having those that are slightly different is what makes it difficult.

I will trust his 'normal drinking' for now.

All he asks, is that I trust him to only want it for hanging loose in the beautiful Caribbean and not for the annihilation of his spirit.

All I ask is that I'm shown he loves me.

I felt that his drinking meant he didn't love me enough, and was trying his best to rid me of his life.

He does love me, and there's no way for me to tell you how he proved it, because you could never understand the connection we have.

As long as I have his love, I can pretty much get through anything.

I will get through this with some trust and a lot of love.

Many people have sent me their angels.

Thank you.

They have been received.

I am out of the Pit of Doom today.

Just because I am loved by mi esposo, I am not crying today.

Just because I am loved by so many friends, I have some peace today.

Just because I begged the angels to get me through this, I am trusting my love.

He had his 'normal drinking' last night and he didn't die.

I will do my best to trust that he can do this.

I know he loves me.

That's all I need to get through this.

For now.

i release any desperation and allow love to find me

Say it isn't so.

Well, I'm back on the drama buggy.

You know how sometimes, you say things out loud and they don't come true?  You jinx it?

Well, I'm hoping that by writing this, that happens now.

I'm hoping that it's just 'nothing' and will be taken care of swiftly, because I needed to take one of Papi's clonazepam to help me stop obsessing about the tissue issue and actually sleep last night.

Sleep I did.

Then resumed thinking about it the moment I awoke.

My breasts have always been a little on the lumpy side, so I've had to get used to that when I check myself out on a regular occasion.

However, upon itching and scratching my boob a few days ago, there was something that didn't feel like my normal tissue.

Last night, I felt it again and it definitely didn't match the rest of my breast and it's nothing I've felt before.

One thing I wasn't completely honest about with my itchy boob post the other day, is that it's only the right side that's itching.

I sorta didn't want to say that out loud, when I coupled it with the fact that there is something there that doesn't feel 'normal'.

I asked Papi, "Please, can you appease my paranoia?"

When I told him what for, he felt the problem and when he touched it, it really hurt, because he wanted to get in there to make sure he was feeling what I was feeling.

He immediately started crying.

My dearest Papi went into trigger mode, from memories of having to watch his mother suffer from cancer, only to lose her in the end.

We calmed ourselves down by trying to remember that if this is a problem, they do great things now.

Great things other than just cure that damn disease.  But then the cancer industry is too big to do that.  They'd lose a lot of money if they cured it.

Anyway, off my soap box.

A lot of women have a lump and they get it removed to find that it's really nothing.

Well, yesterday, we didn't get to the hospital for my ear that isn't hearing properly, but today, we'll be going for a mammogram, no matter the cost.

We'll be accompanied by Visa, MC and Amex, our good buddies as of late.

If there is an actual problem, I'll be getting back to Canada pronto, again, regardless of the cost.

So, there.  I said it out loud.  Now it won't be true.

Right?

One of the reasons we never made it to the hospital yesterday was because our neighbours (you know?  the people everyone judges about me back home, because they're supposed to be allowed to steal from us?), called Mr. Extortion to say we were doing work in our yard.

They cut a kick back for tattling and they do everything they can to get money out of us.

No matter how hard we try to be friends, even after we see them steal our concrete and our cement blocks, steal our wood, paint, they still only want MORE money from us.

They don't want to be friends.

I told the Housemaid, who has the biggest gossip problem in the village that they are not our friends, because friends wouldn't do that.

... friends also honour their contracts ... sigh ... say goodbye to another friend back home i loved ... you've officially put a stake through my heart ...

They don't WANT friendship, they only want our money.

So fuck it, I'm done.

Judge all you need to North America's West Coast uber political.

Call me racist if you need to make yourself feel superior and try to put me down, but from this point forward, congeniality will be the name of the game, not giving.

I'll still teach their children music, because those little innocents didn't do anything wrong.  Their parents haven't taught them the best ways to steal.  Yet.

As for Mr. Extortion, I don't care HOW big his fucking gun is, I'll be telling him I know the 'rules'.  You can only take from us for a new building.  It's not new.  It's a repair of the old.

Go away.

Shoot me if you have to, but you're not stealing anything more.

I have much bigger things to worry about than your non-stop theft.

i replace my anger with compassion and understanding

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

the oil of oregano dance

Oil of oregano is SO good for a virus.  It'll kick that bugger right outta there.

So, when Our Favourite was complaining that he had a cold, I decided to give him some.

I'm going to make some ginger tea for him today to keep up with the immune boosting and get him healthy, but last night I just didn't have the energy, so oil of oregano it was.

I warned him and Our Fave's Mom.  I made sure they both knew it would taste horrible so they were prepared for his reaction.

I had the eye dropper all poised and said, "Ready?" with a partial giggle, knowing that this would probably be the most horrid tasting medicine he would ever experience.

Buckley's ain't got NOTHIN' on oil of oregano.

Anyway, tongue up, drops in and blammo!  There it was!!  The oil of oregano dance!

Hopping around trying to spit it out.  Arms flailing as he tried to put his shirt up to his mouth to get the excess out.  I think I even saw an evil eye glare at me!

He could try and spit that stuff out all he wanted, but once it's under your tongue, the burn just has to work it's way out.

Our Fave's Mom laughed and laughed.

We know that sometimes, the best things for us are things that hurt, leave a bad taste in our mouths, or have us learning big lessons.

I had another lesson this week.  I was called racist again.

I understand a lot more about why people of colour would hate white people.  I see it in the workers here, when I see how white people treat them.

Even though I know I'm judged, I do my best to maintain a smile with the men in our yard, as I give them water all day long to keep them hydrated while they do good for us.

One of them absolutely despised me.  He just saw me as another white asshole.

One night, he was working late and alone, and the sun was going down.  He hadn't stopped for a dinner break, and we had some delicious pasta in the fridge, and I thought he was probably hungry.  Maybe he'd want it?

My dinner was chocolate, and I don't share that with anyone.

I didn't even think he would accept my offering, and battled with whether or not I should try to feed him, because he probably wouldn't want anything from me considering how much he abhorred me.

However, I meekly went out and offered, and was so pleased he took it.

Ever since I gave him dinner, he has been nice to me.  I suppose he's just like me; the way to his heart is through his stomach.

Now, he says hello in the mornings, and he has been the biggest help with giving me gardening tips.  Every time he sees me doing something wrong, he comes over and shows me the right way.

It's the greatest gift of all to me, a city slicker, who has only kept one plant alive in my life.

That was of course, until my motorcycle accident, and Papi was in charge.  That poor plant didn't last very long, but I'm keeping things alive as I get a lot of tips now.

Anyway, I understand how people of colour would hate white people.  It just hurts that there's absolutely NOTHING I could ever do right, because I was born white and am judged not by my actions, but by the colour of my skin.

An article I read, as I was trying to learn more about how people of colour hate us, was talking about a room full of white people who were there to learn more about racism.

The woman looked out amongst the mostly white crowd and said to herself, "It's still all about you."

Why?  Those people are doing their best to try to change things by learning more, but still, they're bad for being there.

Why is completely OK to be hated and put down because of being white?

I don't intentionally do anything to harm another person, no matter what colour they are, unless of course, you're an asshole to me, then you're fair game.

Yet, I'll never be able to do anything good enough and will always be hated by some because of my colour.

Lesson learned.  Damned if you do, damned if you don't.  Just accept being hated.

Every time someone from the 'community' calls me racist on that toxic social media site I call Fecesbook, they're added to the 'mean girls' list, and are hidden so they can't see anything on my wall.

I'll just be invisible to the haters, and take away their opportunity to attack me to look cool to the other assholes in the 'community' who yes, happen to be white.

I've learned that all that matters is that I know I try my best to help people in ways I feel are good for both of us.

All that matters is Our Favourite and Our Fave's Mom trust us to be part of the DR Family, no matter what colour we are.

I'll keep on doing my best, no matter how much people try to insult me.

i value and honour myself as i am

plan 'b': follow your heart

I had to stop and remember that there are always 2 sides to every story.

I spoke to Our Fave's Mom with complete and utter honesty.

I told her that people have said her family could rob us, and that her son could as well and that I'm scared for our safety.

She knew who I meant by 'people' right away, saying her name out loud, and with my silence, I did not deny it.

On the flip side, I told her that all Papi and I have ever seen of Our Favourite, is that he likes to work, and that's the impression we get.

We do not get the impression that he's a thief.

I told her that from the day we met him, he has been Our Favourite, because he speaks to us like he is an old soul with wisdom.

I told her that I really want to be her friend, though so far, people don't want friendship, only money, so it has really hurt my heart and it's hard to trust.

She understood, telling me that she doesn't want to take.

She told me that in her family, the only people with drug and thievery problems is her one brother.

I asked her not to tell her family who we are, nor where we live.

She replied, "I won't.  I only speak to my parents, and nobody in the village speaks to me.  I keep to myself."

I know some people are threatened by those who don't follow the clique.

I know this to be my own experience and I told her so.

"I'm sorry people hurt your heart.  It can be the same from where I come from.  You need a friend.  I'd like to be your friend, because I need a friend too."

Then I started to think about the source which told me that she is not good in the first place.

This is the same person that I have trouble trusting, whom I have proof has stolen from us.

I've decided that I am going to follow my heart, not my head, and certainly not what a busy body says about another person.

Papi and I spoke about it, and our hearts say she is a sweet person, who has fallen prey to the clique of the village.

In every 'community', there are always the 'mean girls' who gossip and tell people lies about someone to get the others on their side, in a quest for power.

I've experienced these people.

Then there are those, like myself and Papi, who choose to judge a person on our own accord.

I don't listen to the queen bee very often, because I like to consider a person's worth on my own.

I know that others have stood by me when the Hen Peckers were in full force.

At the same time, I know others who have ostracized me, choosing to believe the lies, instead of asking me personally for my side.

My heart says she needs a friend, and oh how I can relate.

My heart says to try this out and if things don't work, I can always leave the friendship like I've done with other people who have broken my trust.

My heart says she is good.

I look in her eyes and I see love.

I have the feeling that she is drawn to me, because she doesn't follow the crowd, and that she sees that in me.

In her, I see a strong person.

Maybe she sees that in me?

In her, I see goodness.

Maybe she sees goodness that she can trust in me?

Yesterday, someone left an absolutely AWESOME folklore tale in my comments box.

Please stop by and read it.

We will find all kinds of people, whomever we choose to look for.

So do we choose to look for good?  Or do we choose to look for bad?

It's ok that my intuition doesn't work here.

My heart is good and I'm following it, because I like her.

It may be a mistake, or it could turn out to be a wonderful friendship with another member of The Pariah Club.

And oh, how I can relate.

i have every bit as much brightness to offer the world as the next person

my intuition is broken

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To say I'm terrified is an understatement.

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

Oh, and doggy TV.

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

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

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

Puppies are definitely not as bad as goats.

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

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

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

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

Anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What to do?

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

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

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

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

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

Who to trust?

It's so hard to not feel safe.

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

What to do?

i trust my inner light and intuition to guide me

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

yin & yang

Well, the bubble is burst.

We had a sweet experience that turned into a bit of a fear.

Let's back up a moment here.

I have a friend who is like a Big Sister that I've always needed.

When I first started this blog, she was the first person to contact me to tell me she's here, that she noticed I was missing from Facebook.

She pops in and out when I need her.  It seems it's always when I need her the most, making the time between visits all worth the wait, because I know that at some point, at some time, she will be there to guide me.

She has no idea just how much I love her, from the day I met her over 15 years ago.

She graced my life again last night, to give me more advice, and a little talking to about how we look to the locals here.

Every word she said rang true with our experience here, as well as everything that we feared from the exciting news we were granted with.

Remember the friend I was hoping to have?

The mother of Our Favourite?

She really is a beautiful person.  I've been speaking with her periodically.

Well, yesterday, this oh so pregnant woman with her two kids (one being Our Favourite), came to the gate while Papi and I were desperately trying to put together Ikea furniture.

I tried so hard to understand what she was saying, but it seemed as though she was asking me if I wanted her unborn child.

I knew this couldn't be right, as family is so important here and not too many people would give up their child, no matter HOW little they have.

I invited her in to use Google Translate in hopes of figuring out what she was saying.

In a way, I was grateful for her to come in, so that she could see that even though we have a house and a pool, we only have items that are for necessity.  Not excess.

Not to mention, she got to see our security camera screen.  Maybe word will spread that we're watching the bandidos and they'll move on to a different house to invade.

Anyway, she asked if Papi and I would like to be the godparents of her unborn child.

I almost cried.

You couldn't imagine the honour it felt that someone would show me this trust.

I have My Godson back home, whom I miss so terribly, and the glory I felt in being asked to be The Turkey's godmother filled me up like nothing ever has.

However, after expressing how happy we were to feel this pride of Our Fave's Mom asking us for the newest greatness in our lives, my Big Sister, who is native to the Caribbean, told me it's much different than it is to be a godparent in Canada.

We will be expected to pay for this child's upbringing.

As if he were our own.

A crib, baby food, primary school, college, sponsoring him to Canada and much more, so it's not just the honour.  It's the care to the child.

As soon as Our Fave's Mom left us with our good feelings of being asked for such distinction, we both looked at each other and said, "Do you think she only asked us because all she wants is our money?"

Immediately, I felt the pang of distrust and was so sad that all I ever do is feel this about people now.

It hurts to feel that I'm no more than just money to people, even though I understand they're just trying to survive.

Even still, I feel that being asked this is cause for celebration as Papi and I have always wanted a child.

Maybe it's just what we need?

We don't have to do the hard work of changing any diapers, or staying up all night to feed the little critter.  We get the glory of just being this child's opportunity for a better life.

That still feels good.

Mi esposo and I will have to talk to them about the parameters of being this child's sponsored parents.

I do really like this woman, and I adore her child, even when he brings me a turtle for a pet that I really don't need.

We can't help everyone, but maybe we can help one child?

Maybe he's born to be a musician!  Maybe I get to help him finish what I couldn't after the motorcycle accident!

I am grateful to the point where I feel tears welling up.

this will turn into the life that i envisioned it to be

perhaps my angels sent me a friend ...

The sweetest day.

I asked my angels for friends here in the Dominican Republic.

I have 4 legged friends, but they never really give advice.  They just supply entertainment, cuddles and occasionally listen.

I have short friends who sing my name as they chase us down the road, toys in hand, but they're not really someone I could sit and chat with about life.  They're not old enough to know how bad life can really get.

I need another woman to confide in.  Someone to trust, who has experienced life on a deep level and can communicate in a spiritual way.

It's hard to trust the women here, because so far, everyone has only asked for money, not friendship.

Even our electrician/plumber said something similar.  I was commenting on how wonderful it is that he is in such high demand here in the Dominican for work!

"You'll be rich!" I said, expressing my pride of all his labour.

He laughed and said, "Yes, but I have a problem.  I have no love.  The women here are not true.  All they want is money.  Not love."

My heart cried for him, and I added him to the list of people I speak to my angels for.

I started thinking of some sweet Canadian girls who may want to move to the Dominican for Mr. Sincere who has been my Spanish teacher extraordinaire.

Like all other people I adore so much, he is a great spirit, deserving of love to share.

Then yesterday was a day that showed possibility.

There is a small soul here, who seems to be much older in spirit than his years of life.

He will speak to you like an adult, even when you have no idea what he's saying.

It sometimes feels bad to say we have a favourite child in the village, but if we're being honest, he is the one.

Yesterday, he showed up to the gate and I did my usual wave of hello, but did my best not to engage in conversation, as Papi and I were trying our best to dig shears out of the trench for our carport door.

My love had dropped them in the hole during his late night DIY capers the night before.

However, Our Favourite kept asking for me to come to the gate.

When I appeared, he was holding out a paper.  I thought perhaps he'd made me some art.  I was about to gush with gratitude, until I found it was something different that would make my heart melt.

It was a little blue envelope, and on the front said, "Para Andréa y esposo."

He beamed as he handed me the envelope addressed to Papi and I.

When I opened it, I found a baby shower invitation.  I figured out what he had said, even though it was in very quick Spanish.

It's his mother who is having a baby.

He was so proud to be having a brother on the way, and I was so happy for him and I could tell he was pleased of my joy.

What he didn't realize, is that I was mostly happy because of the genuine display at a woman including us in her celebration of her new child on the way.

We were so honoured and so grateful.

Part of me is still judgemental and untrusting, because my first instinct was that she only wanted us there for a gift.

However, I'm going to take this opportunity to see if it is indeed a friend.

I'm so excited to have been invited and to have received this gesture of friendship.

I will leave my heart as open as I can to the possibility that this may be genuine.

It's possible.

It lifted my spirits so high, and I beamed as I spoke to Papi about it while we hovered around the pool on floaty seats, eating salad that I had prepared for our dinner.

I said, "Maybe one day, this relaxation will be like this all the time?  And maybe I might have a friend?"

Papi replied, "I think they really like you.  Do you think they actually asked the people who lived here before to come to a baby shower?"

It's possible she wants to be my friend.

Very possible.

people like me because of my upbeat, happy personality

Semana Santa

One thing about living in the Caribbean is the storms.

Good storms!

Perhaps that's why I haven't been able to get internet long enough to write a blog for the past few days.

I hope none of you were worried?

No.  No worry.  We were out of our minds with how busy we were, and the internet was so intermittent that I couldn't get on for more than a few minutes.

Which is sometimes good.  We had a little more time to just be together and be happy once more.

I'm gaining trust every day.

Now, in my yard, there is a mango tree, a lime tree, and a 2nd avocado tree.

Make no mistake, I'll still be waiting for a few years for avocados.  One of them is only a stick that was destroyed when the wall was built.

The other is about the same height, only it actually has leaves.  Regardless of the state they're both in, within a few years, I will have my own avocados.

My veggie garden is built and if the internet permits, I'll be ordering my organic seeds from Canada today.

This weekend in the Dominican Republic, there is a celebration called Semana Santa.

It's a holy weekend menat to celebrate Jesus, not much unlike Easter in North America.

For us, it means we get to have a break from workers for a few days, before the next job of landscaping and a new roof begins.

However, here's what I don't understand about the celebrations here.

They have a festival, or party, or celebration every few weeks it seems.

Most of them are about religion, and they celebrate their g*d by getting rip roaring drunk.

You can't drive around during these times, because you'll be sure to hit someone staggering in the streets.

Not to mention, during this week, the celebration starts at noon each day and people are drunk by 1 p.m., then doing donuts in the streets on their motorcycles, without helmets or a care in the world that a truck could be coming around the corner.

This seems to be the same for every Sunday as well.

Here, Sunday is g*d's day and nobody works, leaving Papi and I in a lurch if we need anything, because we're so used to 7 days a week availability in Canada.

Instead, of working, or observing their religion however, people just get drunk.

My question is, why the hell is every celebration just about getting hammered?

Is this really what is intended for these days of religious reflection?

There doesn't seem to be any spirituality surrounding any of these holy days.

To me, it just looks like an opportunity to get drunk and fuck, making babies for people who already can't afford more.

Not to mention, they can't afford condoms, but even if they could, their religion would say it's wrong to stop the making of more babies.

But hey, it's ok to not have enough food to feed their children, then accost me every time they see me, begging for money to feed the children they can't afford.

To the poor we are definitely rich.  They don't realize we're living off credit cards right now.

I'm sorry, but I wasn't the one drunk and couldn't keep my pecker in my pants.

You made your choices, and how the hell can I be responsible for every person who is pregnant?

And there are a lot.

Everywhere.  Everyone is pregnant.  Including all the dogs.

This weekend for me, means I get a break from stuttering through my Spanish while trying to communicate with workers about what I am hiring them for.

This weekend for me means nobody meddling in my business, nor people asking for money.

This weekend for me means some alone time with Papi, training for puppies and maybe a dip in the pool with The Donkey.

That's how I'll celebrate it.

Maybe, because everyone else is getting drunk in the country, it means the angels will have more time to chat with me?

Maybe I'll practise meditation again and see how far I get with my short attention span being pulled by psychotic puppies chewing EVERYTHING they can get their razor teeth on.

Instead of getting drunk in the name of Jesus, Papi and I will have some well needed quality time.

the company of strangers teaches me more about what i like and what i don't like

'The Guard'

So, yesterday, as we were working with the carpenter on the bed frame specs, we of course had a visit from the Housemaid.

I forgot to lock the front gate.

I was a little perturbed at myself, to say the least.

She likes to meddle in our financial business and I kept asking her what it was she needed, while at the same time, trying to speak to the carpenter about the bed.

She would keep telling me, "No, finish with him and we'll talk."

Right, so you can find out how much he's charging us and get him to ask for a little more for you?

No thanks.

Seriously, Papi, you need to learn your Spanish so I'm not the only one chatting!!!

Finally, I isolated her downstairs, turned on Google Translate, who happens to be my best friend since arriving here, and began to ask what she specifically needed.

She pulled out a letter from her husband, the Dominican Daddy.

I typed it into the translator and found out some information that scared the hell out of me.

You see, we had 'The Guard' outside our house while the wall was being put up.

I suppose she trusted him to be there, because we were inside and he was just staying outdoors.

I trusted him, because he was the Dominican Daddy's cousin, and thought he was trustworthy if they were telling us to have him work for us.

Anyway, I had asked him to come watch Casa Paraíso while we are at the capitol next week, working on our residency.

Bad move.

First, he came to our house asking for an advance, because he was out of baby formula.

I paid him in advance for one day, then told him I'd pay him for the 2nd day when we returned.

The letter from the Dominican Daddy asked me if what I had paid 'The Guard' was for both days in advance, then went on to explain why he was asking in much more terrifying words.

He explained that even though he is his cousin, that we can't trust him.

The Housemaid then explained he's been in jail for robbery, not to mention is currently being investigated for robbing the last place he worked at as 'security'.

He sets up people for going away, then while they're gone, he and his fellow bandidos rob the person who he is supposed to be 'protecting'.

We've learned it happens a lot here, via the Pool Man and the DR1 Forum.

The Dominican Daddy told us he and his wife, the Housemaid, would watch the place.  I can trust them, as they don't overtly steal.  They just do it in the sneaky way, where they think we're not going to notice.

If they take a little toothpaste, tampons and soap while we're gone, it's much better than our computer, TV et al.  So be it.

Not to mention, he knows he would lose monthly income if he didn't take care of our place.  Plus, I really do believe that even though these two are opportunists, they have our protection in mind.

We told him we'd give him both our guns and asked the Housemaid if she could find a way to tell 'The Guard' we don't need his services.  I asked her to tell him in such a way that won't make us a target for his anger, making us his next victim.

We also asked her to tell him that we'd find another way to have him work off the money we paid him for baby formula.

Or not.

Maybe with a dude that terrifying, we want to just tell him it's a baby shower gift and leave it at that.

He has already begged us for money each and every time he sees us.  It's not like he's going to stop.

How does he think WE responsible for HIM not keeping IT in his pants?

He's not our dependent, yet somehow, he feels that we owe him, just because we're white and don't live in a shack.

Dude.  If you can't be responsible enough, and have 4 babies all over the place, honestly, it's nobody's fault but your own.

Keep your pecker in your pants!

Somehow, we have to keep the guy on our side though.

Maybe formula here and there will buy us some peace?

Or maybe it will set us up for more extortion?

All I know is, I'm a little scared of 'The Guard', and very grateful that the Dominican Daddy is on our side.

i trust in my ability to keep us safe in our future

cujo must go.

Here's your Sunday YouTube Show.

I'm quite sad today.

We have to bring Mr. Majestic back to the AAAS.

He attacked old Ghost Face.

Even when she retreated, he went for her again.

I was quite grateful we have a wall to make our space private, as I stripped my shirt off to cover his face and get him off the old girl.

She was doing so well.

She had finally come to greet us when we returned back to the house.

She gave a little jump of joy that we were home.

Then Cujo went and attacked her, and it was quite scary.

All the animals have been lunged at now.

Nobody is exempt.

The poor critter just needs a home where there's no kids or animals.

He's the GREATEST guard dog ever!!!

He's just not a family dog that we can trust with the rest of our Fuzzy Family.

I am feeling like I failed a little bit.

I am so sad that we have to bring him back.

I'm feeling like I'm going to cry.

I'm going to have to talk to my angels and ask them to find a great home for this guy.

I fell in love with him a little bit.

OK.

Not a little bit.

A lot.

Anyway, I have some distraction from the sadness, because we're having fun with my baby sister and the crew.

Today, we're taking them to the Monkey Jungle!

Monkeys will jump all over you when it's feeding time, and all the proceeds go to helping the Haitian immigrants. 

The Haitians don't really have much support here.

They're kinda stuffed in villages, not much different than the way our ancestors treated the First Nations in Canada.

This project puts the proceeds towards giving Haitians medical attention when they need it.

Otherwise, they would go without, because the Dominicans don't want to help their neighbours.

Please decrepit old car.

Get us up the hill to the monkeys!!!!

We can always coast back down.

my family is a gift

thieves among us

AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!

So, I just finished the newest Sunday YouTube show, and it wouldn't export because my poor little laptop was too full of movies.

So, I went to town deleting all the files that I thought I didn't need and dammit, I really screwed up.

I deleted the ones from the recent show!

I suppose while all the files are loading again, I'll take a moment to tell you about Dominican home delivery.

5 heads of butter lettuce and 2 bushels of cilantro, delivered to my door, fresh and organic.

It cost 75 pesos, which is about $1.85 Canadian, but in Canada I would have paid about $8 for all these beautiful, organic greens to be delivered to my door.

Beat that Spud!!!

Now don't get me wrong.  Spud is awesome.  It was especially so, when I couldn't move from the La-Z-Boy after my motorcycle accident.

That was worth the money I'll tell ya.

If I sent Papi to buy me food he'd come back with chips, chocolate bars and pasta.

Anyway, the Housemaid brought some by from a local farmer for me to purchase this week.

This morning, the farmer came by our house with more!

For a femme who loves salad, this is seriously the most beautiful thing in the world.

Oh, speaking of the Housemaid, she stole from us again.

We had the wall painted, and when we asked where the excess paint was, she lied, "Oh, it was all finished."

We knew she was lying, but how do you catch someone in that lie without any proof?

She's a well seasoned thief.

Well, she arrived yesterday with a nice fresh streak of white paint on her cheek.

I was so taken aback that I couldn't even say anything.  I had to think about it for a day.

Now, we'll be having a talk about theft and honesty.

I'll tell her I saw the paint on her cheek and that if I went to her house, I'd find fresh paint on her walls.

That extra paint was going to be used to finish the job, as we hired her husband, the Dominican Daddy, and his cousin, who was our previous security to do the job.

You know the one?  Who would beg for more money, the minute after we paid him fairly for his job he did every night?

Well, we thought, "Hey, they need the money," so we hired them.

We wanted the pros to do it properly the first time, but no, we hired them because we wanted to help them out, but they missed a bunch of spots.

So, we wanted to fix what they didn't do to make it look finished.

But they stole our paint, then lied about it.

I'm so sick of it.

I just want to live without looking over my shoulder and counting everything.  I don't feel safety in my home.

We're back to considering we'll fire them.

Which sucks, because the Dominican Daddy is the best yard worker ever.

I can live without her house 'cleaning', however.

I have to rewash all the dishes she 'cleans' before I use them, even though I've spoken to her about it 3 times now.

So, to you all who judge me for not giving away everything, especially the most outspoken one who owns her own store ...

... tell me ... what do you do when people shoplift?  is everything in your store free? ...

... tell me again how many chances you think I'm supposed to give the thieves.

Because, clearly, 2nd, 3rd and 4th chances really aren't working.

And now, back to recovering footage I go ...

i respectfully communicate

always a solution

Yesterday, a sweet Blogger Friend left a comment that I'm strong and loved.

Well, maybe not strong enough, but resourceful?

YES!

You see, I chickened out.

I got ready, preparing for my adventure, then had a thought.

There's a man here who made our wall, fixed a bunch of stuff in our yard and I've grown to trust him over the past month.

... yes folks ... it's already been a month!!!!!! ...

He has a truck.

His truck is just like the truck the last man drove us in, a Toyota 4 cylinder, although circa 1980.  A little more modern.

I realized, hey, we had hired him to build the new well, and if I'm paying him to work, I'll ask him for help.

I asked him to drive me to Cabarete, because Papi was sick.

I told him I needed phone cards, to talk to the car dude and get to the bank to get his money.

He agreed!

I filled his tank with gas and off we went, 1st stop to talk to the car dude.

Well, all I wanted to do was tell the car dude we couldn't go to the lawyer today to get the papers, because Papi was sick.

However, he's a bit of an alpha and told my chauffeur to drive us to Sosúa, which was another 20 minutes south.

You could see my chauffeur wasn't happy about it, and I tried to say I don't want to bother him because he's working at my house, but the car dude wouldn't hear of it.

Off all 3 of us went in the little truck, that didn't seem to want to drive beyond 20 km/hr, but I got to my lawyer, I got my phone cards, I paid the chauffeur after a stop at the bank, AND we got our placard for our car.

Done!

Now it was time to head home and I said in very broken Spanish how thankful I am for his help and could I put more gas in his truck.

Right after we left the gas station, there was a sound in his truck that didn't sound like a healthy bang.

Oh, but the truck was NOT happy.

We drove 8 km all the way home.

A normal 30 minute drive with Papi was now taking more than an hour, but I'll tell ya, it was sure nice to let everyone pass us as I looked at the view.

When I'm with Papi, I'm so busy holding on to the 'holy fuck handle' above my head, white knuckling it while fighting off panic attacks, and saying, "OMG!!!!" so many times that I really don't have time to enjoy the view.

I'm too concerned with oncoming traffic as we pass car after car and think this is the end.

Yesterday was beautiful.

I got to look at goats, cows, kids, donkeys, chickens, stores that seemed like it was just a house with a few clothing items on hangers on the balcony, and people being hard workers.

I had the best time, and I had a body guard.  Hell, at one point I had 2!

2 men that I could trust to get me where I need to go without trauma.

I have to say, Vancouver has scarred me for life with the amount of times I've been attacked and worse.

I'm terrified of people and like the comment yesterday reminded me, predators can smell fear.

How do you just stop being afraid, though?

After spending the majority of my life with P.T.S.D. brought on by the hands of rancid monsters, I just don't know how not to be afraid of strangers.

I suppose it will take time, and hey, we almost have our car, which I'll drive without a license before I take a 'taxi'/'bus'.

I really think that horrible experience in India has really had an impact on my fear, and considering the amount of times I've been attacked on a bus, I'm not just being paranoid.

I don't want to die like that.

I've already lived through enough in this life and reality is, in this world people can be terrifying.

I'll take that solo 'taxi' ride some other time.

In the meantime, I'd rather drive my car illegally.

Apparently, I'm good with illegal actions now.

every problem has a solution and i seek my solution with resolve

waiting is the hardest part.

Oh, our car.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I smiled, "A few times."

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

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

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

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

We don't have that paper.

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

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

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

Damn good thing the view is so beautiful.

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

leave me alone.

The puppies are free.  The doors are closed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It called me.

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

So I ate it.  Then berated myself.

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

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

Leave it to Marilyn to save my brain from insanity.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

self-loathing.

Sometimes, my emotions get too difficult to bear.

Sometimes, I can't handle it.

Sometimes, I really don't like myself.

Sometimes, it would be easier just to die than not have to deal with my feelings, because they're just so big they're hard to overrule.

I've fucked up so much in the past little while and last night was the worst one, because Papi was so angry with me.

I can't multi-task since my brain injury.

I can't retain anything in a conversation if my attention is on something else.  I need to focus on focusing if you want me to know important information, and when I'm stressed, it gets even worse.

When I'm stressed I can get lost in the city I was born in.  When I get stressed, I only get the first words and if I'm lucky, the last words of instructions.

We moved here for a better life, and I'm so grateful I have so much less pain, but all the sun in the world is never going to fix my injured brain.

I feel stupid and worthless.

I was already angry with myself for all my errors, and this emotion was made more challenging because I didn't get the full story from what Papi was needing me to understand.

I didn't hear everything he said.  I heard, "Here is money for the plumber."

I didn't hear the rest of the monologue, which was that he didn't actually know how much it would cost,  and to ask the man.

I was busy cooking, so I couldn't listen very well, not to mention, I was upset with myself for not checking the jar pasta sauce properly in the fridge and used up the next jar.  It was supposed to be for Papi, the plumber and I, but Papi had to go out to buy more and driving at night here is not very safe.

He put the crumpled wad of bills in my pocket as I cooked and ventured out to the store in fear of every minute the sun was setting.

I didn't hear anything Papi said past the money for the plumber is in my pocket, and even if I did hear it, I didn't remember.

I gave the guy the whole fucking roll of bills.  It was beyond the amount Papi meant me to give.

Papi was so mad at me that I couldn't handle the energy that was exuding from him.  I felt I had to go hide in the guest bedroom alone.

My alone place.

We can't be in the same bed right now, because the master bed hurts my back too much and cripples me.

We can't sleep in the guest bed together because there isn't enough room for the 2 of us and dogs, even if they are small.

Alone I cried self-loathing tears.

I hate myself sometimes and wish I could just be my normal self again instead of telling myself I'm a moron.

These are those times that I feel it would just be easier to die.

I'm hurting from people attacking us online.

I'm hurting from a lack of trust in our space.

I'm hurting from being in survival mode and needing to protect ourselves from so many people.

I am sure this will get better.  I believe it will when there aren't 30 strange men in my yard watching my every move.

I am sure once we don't have every child in the neighbourhood trying to play with our puppies and asking for food and money, we'll feel it's our home.

I am sure once we don't have a security guard begging for more money every night after we give him his earnings for his job, we'll feel less guilty for protecting ourselves.

I told the house maid that everyone thinks that just because we're white that we have a lot of money, but that it is not true.

I informed her that all our money is now taken from the wall, the pool and Mr. Extortion and we're living off credit cards.

I'm hoping she gets the picture.  It seemed like she did.

This morning, I'm feeling a little less on the suicidal side, but I'm pretty depressed.

This week's online attack of Papi and I, combined with exhaustion, begging from so many people, being taken by those we thought we could trust and the frustration of never have a functioning brain like I did before the motorcycle accident have taken their toll.

I am sure, once I can get back on my food plan, exercise in the pool and do my yoga, my body will compliment my brain and I will feel better.

i am intelligent