Barbilou's Blog

I'm an orphan!

2012-01-22T17:36:00.000-07:00

My mother passed away Jan. 18, after 12 years with Alzheimer's disease. Hospice waited to start morphine until I got to see her, and she died the next morning.

I'm staying at my son Jon's house, and a more alive, vibrant household does not exist. I'm listening to them all downstairs watching football, kids playing. Laughter, shouting, cheering, jeering. My ex-husband lives here, too, and I know for a fact that watching sports with his son ranks #1 on his list of Best Moments, perhaps tied with having Nora and Dylan tucked into each armpit watching cartoons.

I'm wearing a macaroni necklace, courtesy of Nora.

Plus, today is Nora's 4th birthday, and we had a delightful day with Ron's daughter Julie, husband Leben, and my grandchildren Ruby and Eli here to help celebrate. Nora wanted a Princess theme, and she got it.

Tutu, wand, tiara, check! Ready for anything!

Delighted birthday girl, listening to us sing the Happy Birthday Song.

Blowing out her candles after shouting "I wish for a DINOSAUR!!!"

Ruby, Nora, Eli, and Dylan.

I finally just had my one and only grief/crying/pity-party-moment, and it's over. (And I was outside, smoking, and my tears froze on my cheeks!) I don't know why my mother couldn't love me, but I did love her.

Tomorrow is the viewing, Tuesday is the funeral. I've heard from friends and family far and wide, and am expecting some terrific reunions over the next few days. It's colder than bejeesus here in Minnesota, and I'm missing my sunny warm household in Mexico, but am mighty content amid this family of mine. They love me, I adore them, and life is good!

Meet My Friends Part One

2011-12-23T13:44:00.001-07:00

Sunshine and warmth.
Gorgeous desert and ocean views.
Eclectic, witty, talented, interesting women to share it all with.

These are the reasons I'm here in this little "drinking village with a fishing problem" on the Sea of Cortez. I want to tell you about these women, but there's so many it will have to be more than one post.

Delfie

Here's Delfie, short for Delfinia. Tiny, gentle, exquisite face, always beautifully groomed. She's been married to Jose 48 years, Coloradans, RVers, and it doesn't get more eclectic than these two. Delfie's Hispanic heritage is invaluable (she's our translator) and she could be a master chef. Her laugh is infectious, she's interested in everyone and everything, and she's the sister I never had. Delfie has the uncanny knack of peeling away the layers of bullshit to get to the truth. No pets, but they're pig caretakers for Eddie, the WHR park manager...

Jan

And then there's Jan, Wisconsinite, RVer, married to John (who cooks and bakes.) Eccentric, hilarious, not even a tiny bit shy or reserved, also gorgeous but quite tall. Talented craftsperson, artist, and creator. She made wolves out of those things that palm trees shed! Adorable tiny Shih-Tzu, Bandit. They do craft shows in the midwest summers. Jan's the only amiga that MIGHT be able to out-segunda me...

Here's a video I shot recently at our Secret Santa lunch at Pargo Rojo. Jan had TWO of those big Margaritas, and was modelling her new apron...

Karen

Karen is a Washington coast product, RVer, married to Jim (cook and fisherman). Karen's sense of humor mirrors mine the closest: black, dry, acerbic, cutting. MY kind of humor. Skilled artist, beader, weaver, and photographer. Maybe the most diversely talented of all of us. Makes those quirky beaded wine bottle dresses and hats. No pets, but they feed Blanco, the neighborhood foster dog. They have an RV lot in Washington state, where Karen does craft shows and Jim catches sturgeon and salmon summers.

Bette

Bette has aliases: BetteSandySue, Sandy, Bootleg Betty, and BSS. Like us, she and hubby John have a casita "On The Hill" (plus a huge chunk of surrounding property) and are also Coloradans. Eternally curious, fascinated by life and people, great cook, funny, never a dull moment in her company. Also able and willing to cut to the chase in our frank and frequent dissections of life. Fabulous hostess, generous and giving. Handsome golden retriever, Hank. They return to the Gunnison CO area summers, to grandbabies and where poor John is waiting to retire!

These are the four I spend most of my time with. Beachcombing, shelling, clamming, ATVing, cocktails, lunches, shopping, and of course, settling world affairs. They keep me sane, and mitigate greatly the loss of missing my family.

And there are more! To be continued!

Our ATV Ride

2011-12-23T08:20:00.000-07:00

December 22nd, middle of winter, and Ron and I went exploring on the ATV. (Minnesota winters are rapidly dimming in my memories.)

Ron had seen earlier what looked to be a mine or cave high up on a rocky hill. We rode as far as the road goes, then started climbing.

The terrain was mobile granite-quartz rubble, interspersed with cholla cacti, thorny trees and bushes, and I am 100% inexperienced. Hard climb. Lots of rest stops. As we got closer, we could see the opening better.

Square, looked to be hand-hewn out of the rock, no sign of timber shoring, and absolutely no sign of a path, tailings, nothing. I had to quit about 2/3 of the way up. (I now know for a fact that only people who actually still have cartilage in their knees should attempt climbing.) I sat on a rock and examined rocks for an hour. Ron continued on and took the camera. I kept hearing "WOW!" OH WOW!"

Looking inside door of cave

View out from door of cave

View down from top.

Back wall and floor of cave

He said there were no artifacts, no sign of recent habitation, but maybe evidence of fires. His flashlight was weak, but he thought the cave went back 40 feet or so. Very cool, probably very old to have zero traces of any kind of path?

The return "slide" to where we parked the ATV was much faster. I'm still picking out thorns!

Then we drove over to a beach inlet, where we saw dozens of holes in the sand.

One hole had sand flying out of it, and I said "WOW! Maybe a turtle burying eggs?" Then a large brownish furry thing backed out of it, beaver-size, and went right back in. GOTTA go check that out! I left Ron up on the cliff, and made my gimpy way down. As I got closer I could see this:

Ron called down "What is it?' and I said "A squirrel?" As I got around behind him, I could see he was a tad larger than a squirrel:

He suddenly realized he wasn't alone, and backed out and started running. Scared me!

Turned out to be a BADGER! I had interrupted his meal, a 1/2 eaten crab.

I looked into all the other holes, and only one had any evidence of a find:

Ravaged turtle eggs!

He had struck the jackpot there, I can't believe he would dig all those holes at random, hoping for a cache. There must be a scent or sign?

Anyway, it was a grand day out. However, my knees are much worse the day after, and need babying. And a walking stick and meds and heat and ace wraps. Geez...

Birthday Report

2011-12-15T05:16:00.001-07:00

I turned 59 yesterday, and no, I don't feel different. I've been trying to remember what my parents were like at 59, and it's so fuzzy. (We were living in Julian, CA.) Dad wasn't home much, travelling as the Kinney Shoes upper midwest window trimmer. I think my mom had retired. I know they were busy and involved with my brother's kids a lot. My general impression is I'm tired-er at 59 than they were at 69...

Yesterday was a hoot! It started with my husband having again screwed up getting me a birthday present, so I was granted carte blanche on EBay and ordered a new pair of Birkenstocks. Rather bling, don't you think? They'll be here by Christmas.

Then I got picked up by my neighbor Karen, along with Grace and Jan, and was driven to Jorge's restaurant. We were 13 total, we Ladies Who Lunch, and they bought me TWO grande margaritas, a half-order of steamed clams, and a bowl of tortilla soup, always great. PLUS presents! They were all told no gifts, but they could buy me a drink instead. In retrospect, 12 drinks might have been 10 too many...

I have a new Demdeco "Free Spirit" from Bette, a hand-crafted silver wire bird's-nest pendant from Karen, those Navajo earrings EXACTLY like the ones I was coveting a few days ago in Delfie's house, the gorgeous crystal beaded drop to hang in a window from Grace, that double-strand turquoise necklace from Joyce, and Jan made that rose brooch with clamshells! Plus this gorgeous plate from my friend Zee, the only non-WHR/Dos Palmas friend.

Earlier, Sal gave me a potted rose plant, and Jill gave me a bottle of good gin. Jan's hubby John baked me a huge batch of Toll-House cookies. What great friends!

Here's a group shot of us.

From bottom left, Marion, Maggy, Bette, Joyce, Karen, me, Zee, Grace, Delfie, Sal, Joan, and Jill.

More shots: (no, nobody was drinking shots...)

Jorge and granddaughter Natalia serenading us!

Sal and Bette left us to chat up our neighbor Jerry...

No photo of Jan because she was behind the camera. Here's Jan.

Then they poured me into the truck and delivered me home, where my husband made me a gooey, chocolate birthday cake. You all know Boots, Jaq's dog. He helped.

It was a grand day out, with a chocolate cake and Survivor and X-Factor finale. Laughter, song, presents, good food, great drinks. There isn't much more, is there? Well, family.
But these women ARE my family.

Happy Birthday Girl

BusyBusyBusy

2011-12-10T07:00:00.002-07:00

The Kino social season is heating up. Had to start my Google Calendar, and darn if there isn't something entered almost every single day. Mighty few jammies days. The WHR park and our Dos Palmas neighborhood is filling up. Lots of catching up, potlucks, happy hours, clamming, poker games, Ladies-Who-Lunch, and Club Deportivo events. Our park is hosting the Sunday breakfast there, and I'm assigned to chop onions today. Of the whole list of menu chores, that's the only one I probably wouldn't f#%& up.

Went to Tucson last week for Ron's first primary care appointment at the VA. Took neighbor Jack with us so he could get a visa on the way home (Hadn't had one for a couple of years). Jack is Ron's drinking partner, and that's what they did. I drove. It's been chilly nights here in Kino, but it snowed on us in Sonoita and dropped to 16 degrees in St. David AZ while we were there. Still had my Minnesota windshield scraper in the truck, though! So glad to be back home.

I'd been feeding a homeless cat, who I noticed was nursing. Four kittens showed up last week, just a few hours before we left for Tucson, so I didn't have a chance to re-home them. SO tiny, but ravenous for food and had no trouble eating dry cat food. The other day three kittens showed up without Mama: I boxed them up and they now have a new home with Jack's friend in Kino Viejo. The fourth one is still at large, and I plan to get Mama neutered.

I had to redo my shell-and-bone wreath from last year because my hula hoop broke. Now it's smaller because it's on a bike tire rim, so it's just skulls and carcasses.

Mostly coyote skulls and pelican skulls, with Seri Indian rope.

Last year's wreath, on hula hoop.

There was a full moon tonight, and an hour later there was this:

So that's what's up.

A Kino Bay Thanksgiving

2011-11-27T07:48:00.000-07:00

Thanksgiving week in Mexico, a tad dissimilar to the Minnesota experience. No frozen nostril hairs and no noisy grandkids. Saw'em via Skype, though, and they blew us wet kisses. I swear I could almost feel the spit.

Mexico Thanksgiving week started with very low tides and great clamming, and ended with a huge feast at the RV park with 29 friends and neighbors. Everything was delicious, and the gravy was as good as Terry's. I made Freeda's cranberry salad, always a hit.

I also cooked at home, ensuring leftovers which you don't get when you eat elsewhere: turkey, stuffing, green bean casserole, and gravy (which was NOT as good as Terry's...) And we've eaten nothing but ever since.

Yesterday I hauled out the Christmas decorations. Yes, I'm an atheist, but have always been willing to capitalize on the finer perks of religion. (I also enjoy Easter candy.)

Having lived with our crowded casita since installing the bed, I got Ron to help me rearrange the furniture prior to decorating. Now there's room to dance!

Guest seating!

Putting the TV up on that armoire thing necessitated finding a new place for my Christmas tree. Since I only used that table to store casserole dishes on anyway, I put them up above the kitchen cupboards.

I gave the kids most of the ornaments and lights, but kept a few faves to make extra-sure I get teary every holiday season from missing family and friends. The big mercury glass ones are on a lit garland over the window.

Hula Frog

Cone Cat

Society Lady Cat

Eeyore in the center, and I kept my Seri Indian carvings and basket in the window. Yes, the snake and bull are wearing tiny wool scarves. It's winter...

The small tree requires small ornaments, and each of these is so special to me.

My late brother and father, grandkids, and a seashell angel I made.

Fish vertebrae and crab claw wreaths, and Les Kouba bobber.

Bell given to me by my son Jon at age 5, Navajo horsehair ornament, saucer-sledding polar bears, and my pets in their holiday finery.

The room divider screens off the bed somewhat, and is also handy to hang stuff on. The TV can now swivel for viewing in bed. Neighbor Jaq gave me that wire scorpion, which he received in payment for work he did for a local. The Santa Candles are from Goodwill.

Last photo, promise: My Desk, the coffee table. The computer's displaying one of our 2012 Calendar Hunks, on sale at the park next week...

So aside from desperately missing my family and friends back home, we're plugging along and trying to avoid bedsores. My friends arrived last week, and we've been enjoying the beach and catching up. Ron's being kept busy (due to Maurice's negligent delay in arriving here) trying to fix internet connections for our friends. One night we experienced a local caretaker/laborer chasing and shooting at a bandito throughout the neighborhood. This next week will include a girls' day out in the city, another one in the segundas, and then we go to Tucson for a doctor appointment. Busybusybusy.

Hardly any Jammies Days lately. But we sure enjoy doing this! (I lied, one more photo)

Photo courtesy Jan Knickelbein

Wedded Bliss...

2011-11-15T05:08:00.001-07:00

When I met Ron in 1980, I'd been separated from my husband of 7 years for only 2 weeks. Ron was like nobody I'd ever known before. He was a Marine Corps combat veteran. Tankers. Three tours in Viet Nam, including the Khe Sanh siege.

Normal daily bullshit would never again even faze him. He worked day labor jobs. He'd been married twice before, and had 5 daughters (two adopted, three biological, and two of those were only 6 months apart!) He was a San Diego native, and I'd never ever even seen California. He lived across the street from my new apartment-in-a-gay-neighborhood in downtown Minneapolis, and I assumed he was gay. But he wasn't. Isn't. And he was easy on the eyes.

Plus he loved my toddler son, Jon.

So we cohabited until my divorce was final, then we got married and moved to California. My ex, also a California native, was supposed to follow us out there (he's a great dad to our son) but he had a near-fatal motorcycle accident and was delayed a few years.

In the meantime, Ron's three daughters from wife #2 (Judy, a saint) spent some summers with us, became and remain very dear to me, have produced 5 most-remarkable grandchildren, and I love them like they're mine.

Lissandra, Juliana, and Caprice

My son Jon, single dad.

But they're not, and I'm so grateful they have Judy as ballast. Because Ron and I weren't ballast. We were happy drunks.

In time, we decided the drinking might be problematic, so we quit, for 16 years. Those 16 years allowed us to build a bit, amassing a fairly happy, extended-family unit and setting us up for an early retirement (mostly courtesy of the VA, who finally agreed Ron was worthy of compensation for his service).

And here we are, Mexico. We have a delightfully quirky little homestead here, in a perfect climate, and at 58.9 and 64.999 years old, respectively. None of our children has managed to visit us yet, but I think they will, in time, because this life is SO great. Plus it's all there is to inherit...

Our Mexico neighbors and friends are every bit as quirky as we are, some a tad more so. We only see the grandkids once a year, not nearly often enough. But with Skype, we still "see" them. Just can't touch them. I rationalize that they're better off without our influence/interference/meddling, and suspect nothing could be truer. They are all thoroughbreds, and I have zero doubt that each one will be happy, fulfilled, and will go on to found dynasties. Despite us!

Max, Linny, and Bryan

Ruby and Eli

Dylan

Nora

Nora and Dylan may have some genetic challenges to surmount, time will tell...Just kidding. Thoroughbreds.

Grampa Rene'

Grampa Brian

Ron's turning 65 on Thursday. We'll be married 30 years on Valentine's Day. Nobody I know (including us) thought it would last a year: we're so very different. He still makes me laugh every day, often just outta-nowhere slapstick stuff. One day I answered the phone, and a man asked for Ron. Sounded like a bill collector, who Ron insists he can't talk to on the phone because he gets too angry. I told the man that Ron couldn't speak very well since his stroke (he DID have a stroke, that part was true, but his speech had long recovered) This guy wasn't able to talk to me without having Ron's permission. I handed the phone to Ron, said "Just tell him he can talk to me." He screwed up his face and shouted garbled-ly "EHWHSSH? HEH! MMEH WIIIF!!! EERISH!! Then handed the phone back to me. I was absolutely liquid, quivering, shaking with laughter, tears pooling on my neck. I was eventually able to whisper into the phone "That was permission."

Move over, Rodin!

2011-10-15T12:24:00.000-06:00

Now I'm a sculpter!
I've had a couple of blocks of Sculpey for years. It's a polymer clay that stays soft until you bake it. They look like they could be porcelain. It's way fun, but I wish I had a better imagination. I did a search on Etsy to get ideas, and then started playing with my clay. It felt like pre-school, or kindergarten! Course, there was alcohol involved...

Calla Lily Earrings

White Rose Earrings, gold hooks

White Rose Necklace

White Rose Earrings, sterling

And here's that cat I finally finished. Now it's not Rocky anymore, it's a Jaguar.

Depending on how thick the piece is, I "cook'em" in the convection oven for an hour or so, WITHOUT heating up the casita. And yes, if you forget they're in there, they turn brown...

So Sculpey Clay got added to my list for the next Tucson trip. And can my Kino Amigas guess what they're getting for birthday gifts this winter?

Pretty Cool (if I do say so myself!)

2011-10-12T16:28:00.000-06:00

Really enjoying having nothing to do and all day to do it. The OMG-It's So-Hot weather has abated, gets down to 70 overnight and highs maybe low 90s at most. Gorgeous, balmy mornings and evenings. But late morning and early afternoon, I go into the RV, turn on the AC, and open up CRAFT CENTRAL.

Here's a pendant I made with Sculpey clay. I bake them in the convection oven. It's my casita! Look at the photo at the top of my blog:

It's only i inch wide, complete with purple railings and cortinas! As well as leaning palapa roof...

This one is baked, but unfinished. Manana... My mean cat Rocky...

I'm sewing again. Lost some weight this summer, and nothing fits. I've discovered I can take clothes I don't wear, and combine tops and bottoms to make DRESSES I probably won't wear!

The top one was a denim sleeveless blouse and a lined summer skirt. I hate skirts, probably because I no longer have a waist, per se. I like unstructured dresses that hang from my shoulders.

The white one was a size 3 long pleated skirt from a thrift store. The waist was actually 20 inches, but something made me cough up $1 for it. Who has a 20 inch waist? (Actually, all these "parts" are from thrift stores) And the tropical print was the part I cut off when I shortened another dress. It may be a nightgown now, too shapeless to wear in public. Maybe a "wandering in the yard" dress?

The last one was one of those long, gauzy, broomstick skirts. I just sewed it to a pale green embroidered linen tanktop. But then I had to line the skirt, because you could see right through it. It's lined with a filmy curtain, from which I cut off the lace header to use in another project some day...

This is mi favorito! It was an ankle-length Mom-Jumper, $1 at a segunda. I made it just above knee-length, then painted wildflowers on the pocket with fabric paint. Added a lime green T shirt. Really cute, and way too young for me, but I'll wear it anyway. It gots pockets!

So that's what I've been doing. Plus, my husband and I have begun playing online poker TOGETHER, just play money. It's way fun! He's on the PC, I'm on the laptop, we register for the same tournament (usually a 45 man) and I refuse to tell him when he should fold. Pretty sure it's illegal to do that, but it's only play money, so maybe not? We almost always end up at the final table together, but I'm only "in the money" about 1/2 the time. Ron's much better, close to 90 %.

Today I'm still in my jammies at 3:30 PM. Too late to get dressed now, huh?

In My Next Life...

2011-10-09T13:52:00.002-06:00

I sort of believe in reincarnation, that we get another chance to get it right. To avoid or correct mistakes from the last life is comforting to me, and actually explains a lot. I often think or say aloud "in my next life" when pondering the past, as a means of atonement, perhaps. It is effectively an admission of error, regret, and resolve to improve, all without the burden of fixing things in this life. Here are some "Promises To Self" for my next life:

In my next life:

I will be born to TWO parents without too much baggage, who were themselves raised in a loving home with engaged parents, and who have a healthy, positive sense of self-worth. I believe DNA to be only 1/2 the equation. The other 1/2 is what happens after.

...nuff said

Jack and Kelly Osborne...

I will save 10% of every dime I earn in mayonnaise jars.
I will have lifelong girlfriends, and work hard to maintain those friendships.

My friend Kitzie

My friend Cathy, far right. I'm second from left.

Me and my friend Vick

(Sorry, Marlene, still looking for a photo of you. Will add when I find it...)

I will choose my mate from a short list of men who were also from families like the above. Whose mother did not pick up his dirty socks for him (past the age of 5), or put her own needs/wants above those of her child. He will have been raised to be a mensch. This man will already have finished school and be gainfully employed in a stable field, OR inherited a lucrative cattle-ranch. He will cherish me, treat me like a queen (as opposed to a princess, which smacks of Oedipalism...), and not resent or forever work to exceed my own talents/skills with lifelong one-up-manship. WHO HAS MY BACK. In turn I will cherish his every atom and honor him for the god he is. He might occasionally dress up like a pirate...

(This is NOT meant to denigrate the two husbands I've had, who together with me have abetted the production of the finest group of children/grandchildren in existence.This is a fantasy, what I wish next time.)

I will choose a career that does not involve making life-or-death decisions, and does not consume me or follow me home at night. Maybe something to do with crafting. Welding giant yard sculptures from junkyard parts that sell for many thousands?

Either I or my mate will have the ability to be at home with the child (yes, again only one) until said child starts school.
My child will have lots of playmates and cousins and spend his/her childhood in joyful pursuits.

Daily, he/she will witness parents doing the right thing, loving each other unconditionally, paying bills on time, telling the truth, and will grow up with the expectation that there is no other option.
There will be no tobacco or drugs, and minimal alcohol in my life. Or my mate's.
I will discover Mexico earlier.

I will be physically active, fit and strong.

I will use moisturizer with sunscreen.
I will go to the dentist twice annually.
Our motor vehicles will also have regular and routine maintenance.
I will employ a housekeeper and maintenance man/gardener.

I will eat because I'm hungry and not to fill emotional voids. (Although bacon, shrimp, tomatoes, avocados and coconut ice cream will comprise the majority of my diet.)
There will already have been invented an effective scorpion/snake/spider/bee/no-see-um repellent. Or vaccine.
If I'm again nearsighted, I will have Lasik surgery early, using money from my mayonnaise jars.
I will grow tomatoes, learn to cook, learn to swim, learn to dance, eat fruit, watch the sun rise, stay up late, and take catnaps.

Get it? Catnap...

Of all this, the part I regret the most and look forward to "fixing" in My Next Life is the girlfriends part. I'm loving my new Gringas Viejas life here in Kino Bay. How much more joy would there be if we had been friends from childhood?

Travel Nursing: One Last Rant

2011-09-25T10:31:00.000-06:00

I'm officially retired after 34 years as a Dialysis RN, and there are still a few bridges left to burn. Let's start with the end: my one and only stint as a Dialysis Travel Nurse.

Gazillions of companies to choose from, all of whose emails never ever go away. Wide variability in benefits, salaries, perks. I picked THE ONE company that didn't pay a completion bonus at the end of my contract. Go figure. Their website is classic bait and switch.

Reimbursement for obtaining state nursing license. (Yeah, AFTER your 13 week contract is over.) But no reimbursement for actually driving to/from Phoenix, staying in a hotel, the required fingerprinting, the $30 internet charge to document current licensure in my home state...
Actual travel reimbursement to and from your assignment. (Unless you live in Mexico.)
There were $800 of unreimbursed medical expenses prior to actually signing, not mentioned anywhere on their website, and pre-employment medical screening is not covered by my private health insurance. They required a recent Medical Release (physical), blood tests to prove Varicella and Hepatitis immunity, and a Mantoux. Plus 2 days in a hotel to await the reading of the Mantoux. The only thing they covered was the drug screen. I have never in 34 years had to pay for my own Hepatitis Antibody test. Faxing all this from Staples? $30, unreimbursed.
Completely furnished apartment provided. Seriously? The merchants of Show Low AZ benefitted greatly after my arrival there. You'll need lamps (you only get ONE), light bulbs, waste baskets, laundry basket, pillows, bedding, towels, plates, cups, bowls, glasses, cutlery, utensils, pots and pans, broiler pan, cooking and serving ware, toaster and coffee maker, ice cube trays, bathroom rug/mat, TV, DVD player, radio, a frickin' cable for the cable TV, flashlight and candles for power outages, shower curtain and rings, paper towel holder, and a hook for your bathrobe. Really, no light bulbs?
It's RENTAL FURNITURE. Not new, not even clean. My recliner had a toddler's dirty sock and a child's plastic watch in it, plus CheeTos. And my bed was infested with bed bugs, which led to 3 weeks in a cheap motel (because MY agency's "cap" on lodging was $70/day) while my building underwent extermination. That was a nightmare.
24 hour on-call support. My recruiter never once answered her phone, always voice mail. So you press 0 to get the switchboard, and that person says you have to go through your recruiter. I explain why I cannot wait for her to return my call (bedbugs, whatever) and that I need to speak to housing NOW. I get voice mail... I press 0...
The job itself wasn't anything new. After doing this 34 years, I would hope not. They did have an even stupider-more-antiquated-computer-program to learn than the one I was used to. And while I was hired as a Charge Nurse, I worked 75% of my shifts as a Patient Care Tech. And when I WAS scheduled as Charge, I didn't get the promised $3/hour extra Charge pay that was in my contract, because that dialysis company doesn't HAVE charge nurses in Arizona. They have something called a Team Leader instead, who doesn't even necessarily have to be on the premises that day "but is always available for questions or help". Yeah, right. Never did figure out who my Team Leader was. Probably the Clinical Manager (who is terrific), because the other RN was too new to be a resource. I did like the staff there, and the patients were mostly great (after they realized I knew what I was doing). Fairly even mix of Apaches, Mexicans, and affluent white transients who vacation there. One Apache woman taught me to say "How are you?" in Apache, which turned out to REALLY be "How're they hanging?" Very funny.

Would I do it again? Well, no, because I'm retired now. But yes, if I had to work again. I'd ask more questions, negotiate a better contract, and require a bed bug inspection before I move in. And now that I know what a Furnished Apartment is..This is pasted from their website:

Your apartment will be in move-in condition complete with furniture and utilities all prearranged for you.
When you arrive at your destination (usually two days before your assignment starts), you only need to pick up your key, unpack and start learning your way around town.

Like learning where to buy light bulbs so I can find the frickin' toilet...

We are SELF-CONTAINED!

2011-09-20T19:34:00.000-06:00

But MAN, we're crowded in here now!

Stopped to pick up a bed frame at IKEA on the way home from the airport. Ron assembled it quite handily, and while only pine, seems very well made.

Monday I drove back to Hermosillo alone while Ron rearranged furniture. I'd seen pillowtop mattresses at both WalMart and Sam's Club for 1490 pesos ($112), and we decided to just put plywood under it. I did get lost in Hermo for a while, because my detour had a detour, and nothing looked familiar. Finally found WalMart, bought the mattress, stopped on the way home at LaRumba (GREAT hardware store in Miguel Aleman) for the plywood. Bed assembled, made, slept on, perfect. Here's how the furniture's been arranged FOR NOW. I'm dissatisfied with the crowdedness of it, it may change.

Double bed in corner, with Jack Sparrow watching me...

Screen divider

Futon at an angle for traffic flow

Not much traffic flow...

Baskets for clothes, walking stick for hanging stuff, laundry basket beneath

So no more wild dance parties inside the casita, it's too crowded. We shut off the AC in the fifth wheel and it's just sitting there, clean, ready for guests...

And here are a few more photos from Minnesota I forgot were in the camera.

Jon taking the kids to Montessori. Yes, Dylan has a mohawk...

They're holding hands!!!

Nora got the sunglasses at Savers thrift store.

Eli and Ruby after school

Caprice's yard. Biggest hostas I ever saw.

And that's all I know.

Home Sweet Home

2011-09-19T05:22:00.000-06:00

So my awful summer is over, and I'm home in Kino Bay for good. But first!

Our Minnesota Trip

We drove to Tucson on Sept. 9 so Ron could be seen at the VA there. However, someone in their eligibility department had cancelled his appointment without notification. Now rescheduled for early October. It had already been a headache of a day, because the truck was making a loud "something's dragging" noise the whole way, and Ron couldn't see what it was. Nor did he want to get it looked at before it became something horrible. (I think I heard my dad rolling in his grave.) In Tucson, we found a Big O shop by the VA that advertised brake repairs, and drove away 3 hours later with a new drive-carrier-thingy and minus $300. Not too bad. Got a motel room and crashed.

Flew out of Phoenix the next morning to Minneapolis on Southwest. Rented a car, and drove to daughter #3 Julie's house in St. Paul. SO great to see those faces! Just a quick visit, then drove to St. Cloud to stay at Jon's overnight. More great faces! Next day a reunion dinner at daughter #1 Caprice's house, and my friend Kristin joined us with her daughters. LOTS of great faces there! That night back to Julie's. Next night at Jon's. Then up to friends Brian and Joy's place in Dalbo. (That was poker night at a lakeside bar. None of us won, but had tons-o-fun.) Then a night at Caprice's house (shopping and Olive Garden for me and Caprice, billiards for Ron and Don), followed by the last two nights at Julie's with backyard campfires.

Flew back to Phoenix Saturday, where Ron proceeded to have a cardiac event: racing erratic heartbeat, sweaty, fatigue, short-of-breath. He didn't want to go to the ER, but we weren't anxious to leave the vicinity of medical care should it be required, so we stayed at the Desert Diamond Casino Hotel. Next morning, he was OK, so we drove home. Oh! We'd left the new air conditioner on in the casita the whole week FOR THE CAT and it was 68 degrees in there! YAY! Still summer here, upper 90s with high humidity.

Now we need a vacation from our vacation. Here are some photos:

Chef Don, Ron, Kristin

Jon

Caprice, Leben

Julie

Nora, Eli, Dylan

Max

Ruby

Nora

Eli, Ruby, Ron

Almost the whole family, plus one...

All because two people fell in love...

On Becoming A Geezer

2011-08-28T06:37:00.004-06:00

Aging is an interesting experience. "Seniors" are punchlines to jokes, judging from the email forwards from friends (very few of which I find humorous, as I have a very sophisticated dry/black sense of humor). Since my early teens, I have loved and valued Old Folks, envied their wisdom, experience, and their non-chaotic settled life. Drama-free. Time to savor life's moments. I was SO looking forward to Becoming A Geezer! But the reality is a bit of a letdown...

Body Parts Warrantee.

Gravity. Maybe Seniors on planets with less gravity than our Earth look better than we do? From my jowls to my bosom to my butt, everything moves south like Minnesota Snowbirds. Most of it also gravitated around to my abdomen. Handy place to find food I've dropped, though. Helps avoid having to pick it up off the floor, which hurts my knees, which is why those reacher/grabber tools are SO nice.

Knees. Now THOSE are replaceable, I know, but still...First thing out of bed in the morning, having to check the daily knee status to see how your day is going to go, decide to medicate or not, can pretty shoes be worn, or will it have to be something sturdy and sensible?

Vision. Nearsighted at birth, I had glasses at age 4. Contacts at 14. Back to glasses with bifocals late 20s when the bifocal contacts proved painful. Then a series of stronger and stronger myopia/bifocal prescriptions. Now the bifocal part of my glasses is only effective for that distance between my face and the speedometer in the truck. Anything closer requires taking them off. Reading, computer, crocheting, everything. I can't light my cigarette without taking off my glasses. And how the hell does one find one's glasses in the morning without one's glasses?

Pigmentation. Where does it go? (Yes, I know, age spots) I was born with blond hair on my head, but dark brows, lashes, and everywhere else (if you get my drift). The hair on my head started turning white early on, but it looked sort of salon-frosted, so I didn't mind. But the white hair "everywhere else" is a shock to see every day.

Speaking of shocks. It seems that crushing chest pain episode I had recently was a mild heart attack. All these years of abusing my body by what I put into it and not exercising lead to only one thing: lots of medical tests. I almost need a secretary to manage my doctor appointments schedule. But they do give me something to do, somewhere to go. Apparently that's how seniors are meant to fill those empty hours of retirement. I'm thankful to realize this, was a little worried.

Financial Security

This might be laughable, but a fixed income is no laughing matter. What do you mean I can't buy what I want whenever I want it? Should have saved more. What a concept! A registered nurse for 35 years, I miss my salary more than anything else, except maybe my dignity.

Dignity

Loss of. I remember being SO embarrassed of my mother when I was 13. She could be relied upon to chauffeur me to events with her hair in rollers and a gaudy headscarf tied over it. But I'm learning to accept my own loss of dignity. Took the cat out for a walk today wearing my flannel Lucy Ricardo pajama pants, Crocs, and a stained T-shirt without a bra. But I'm almost positive nobody saw me.

Reverence

Nobody reveres me like I always revered seniors. The kids don't even call. I suppose we reap what we sow, but you'd THINK my valuable advice, opinions, and experiences would be sought more often. Or occasionally. Or even annually. Ingrates! Hence this blog...

And then you die.

It's so hard when you lose your grandparents, then your parents, but when your peers start dropping off, it's a real eye-opener. One major force in my botched child-rearing is the compelling urge to spare my children from pain and heartache. I find myself slowly withdrawing from their lives, possibly hoping that my eventual death will not be the gut-wrenching, OMG-this-is-too-painful-to-bear experience I went through in losing my dad. (No, I'm not a saint like my dad was, so it's probably overkill to worry. But still...) Sure, I want them to miss me, remember me sometimes, but sweet, funny little memories rather than an aching sense of loss. To spare them that pain would mean the world to me.

Retirement Looms!

2011-08-24T05:23:00.002-06:00

Six more shifts to work, then I'm done forever. We leave Show Low Sunday September 4, straight home to Kino (11 hour drive). We'll only be home 4 days, because Ron has a VA intake appointment in Tucson on September 9. He's switching from Minneapolis VA to Tucson. We'll stay overnight there or in Phoenix, then fly out of Phoenix on the 10th for a week in Minnesota. Then back home for good!

Beach.
My roof at sunrise.
ATV rides.
Ladies Who Lunch.
Beach.
Hermosillo shopping trips.
SEGUNDA shopping trips!
Beach.
Shrimp.
Happy Hours.
Did I mention my beach?

I found these in my camera, forgotten photos. A moonset in Kino, taken at dawn the week I drove down to pick up Ron and the cat.

The flamingoes I added to Ron's cacti-pottery-shard border around the RV pad. They were a dollar at the dollar store in Show Low! What a bargain, huh!

I couldn't believe how much my baby Jumping Cholla Cactus had grown! These were just little balls that grabbed my pants leg one day, and I stuck'em in the ground.

And here's the ugly stick and wire bunny fence Ron made around the giant ocotillo. Those jackrabbits tried to eat their way through our property this summer, Ron said.

So I'm just waiting it out, comfortably in the AC in Show Low. They certainly do have nice weather here, though it rains every afternoon. Highs upper 80s, upper 50s overnight. Having swapped my foster cat Fig for my own mean, lazy bastard Rocky, there's much less cat-entertainment here. Rocky hasn't even wanted to go out much, seems content to sleeep in the air conditioning.

Today's my day off, Ron and I are going trout fishing on The Rez. He doesn't want to buy a non-resident Arizona fishing license, and the Apaches only charge $6 a day to fish. He brought the fly rods. I have my WalMart Zebco combo I bought on my arrival here. Hopefully, we'll catch a few before the rain starts...

How does this happen?

2011-08-16T10:11:00.001-06:00

For at least 3 years I've avoided TV news programs, mostly due to my disgust of the media's addiction to sensationalism more than the actual news items themselves. I do read the world and local headlines on my Yahoo home page daily, and open links that interest me (if Norton says it's OK...) And every now and then I'm compelled by some unseen hand to open something I know up front will probably upset me for days.

This was one of them: the father in Louisiana who decapitated his disabled son because he'd grown tired of caring for him.

News Article

I keep wondering what events or circumstances in this person's life could have led to this? What could possibly make him think it was OK to do this? Is it ALL abysmal parenting? Bullying? Maybe a genetic anomaly? I've spent small blocks of time in Louisiana, and the climate alone almost made ME nuts. Is it possible some parent somewhere right now is making a mistake with a child that could someday snowball into a travesty like this?

I watched a woman at Wal-Mart a couple of weeks ago backhand a toddler (maybe 3 to 4 years old) across his face and shout "SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH !!" with a twisted, ugly face. No, I did nothing except cringe. Yes, I should have called the police. Add that to the list of contributing factors: people who witness abuse and remain silent.

I can't help but think that poor and non-parenting are the major catalysts. From withholding affection to permissiveness (in an attempt to earn love), lack of discipline to excessive discipline, and a disinterest or unwillingness to be vigilant of a child's whereabouts and contacts: the list of parenting errors reads like a How-To Manual on how to raise a homicidal psychopath.

I believe all of us committted some of these errors at some point while raising our own children. Why are they OK? If there was a list, a mandatory-must-read-guideline for parenting, could this be stopped? Are there experts out there right now working on one?

Here's my plan, conceived of long ago: Forced sterility from birth, reversible after proof of moral and financial responsibility is demonstrated to an elected panel of judges. Big Brother is watching. I wish he'd been watching this guy.

Home again!

2011-08-12T10:17:00.000-06:00

Back in sunny (hot, sweltering, miserably humid, melting) Kino Bay for a few days. I brought down an air conditioner for the casita. Turns out those thick walls are great for keeping the cold OUT, not so much in! It took 3 days to bring the inside temperature down to 71.
Here's a photo, with an impromptu curtain covering the bottom of the window:

Our fifth wheel is simply a large, efficient oven, and it's air conditioner cannot cope with this heat. Even running 24/7 (which it doesn't: the circuit blows every 15 minutes when it's over 95 outside) the inside doesn't get below 90.

It's great to be home, though. The desert/ocean smells SO good. I go beachcombing in the mornings before it hits 90, then spend afternoons in the AC cleaning up what my husband didn't during the last 3 months. He didn't eat any of the food I left for him, and didn't throw it out, either. When I cleaned out the fridge, I had 4 large trash bags we had to haul to town. Yes, he's very thin...

My new favorite thing is cruising around on this:

Can't you just see me on it, going to Ladies Who Lunch and loading up that basket with coyote skulls and turtle shells?

It's official! One more month...

2011-08-01T18:42:00.002-06:00

All approved, staying an extra month in Show Low AZ.
It really is gorgeous here: pine-y smell outside in the mornings. Don't know why that goes away later. Elk all over every morning on the way to work, have to drive at 10 MPH with the brights on.

On a sad note, I lose Figaro this Friday. He's been a godsend to me, great company and entertainment in my solitude. I'll have Rocky instead: curmudgeon, crabby, bites, not cuddly or loving in the slightest. But I love him more.

Figaro

I'll be driving to Tucson on Sunday August 7th, spend Monday at the VA there (medical issues...), drive to Nogales AZ Monday night and stay at the Super 8 motel there, then arrive in Kino sometime Tuesday afternoon. I bought an air conditioner at WalMart here for the casita: Ron's been bitching about how hot it is in Kino, and how the RV doesn't get below 90 with the AC on 24/7.

Due to return to work in Show Low on the 15th, but may return sooner if it's too hot in Kino...

Permanent retirement coming very soon!

Oy Gevalt...

2011-07-24T10:39:00.001-06:00

We spent more money than we'd planned to. I'm most seriously considering extending my contract here in Show Low a few more weeks to pad the cushion.

It's the very LAST thing I want to do. Few memories here that aren't bad ones, from the overwhelming physical fatigue of those long days at work, to the bed bug infestation with those three weeks in that cheap motel, to the loneliness and silence.

The last week has been busy as ever. I worked Monday through Thursday, 11-12 hour days, and we shared our clinic with the clinic in Whiteriver who had lightning hit their water plant. Total chaos. Then I drove to Tucson to attend to some medical issues at the VA there. That drive to Tucson is a wild, white-knuckled adventure. They could make an X-Box game based on it. Elk popping out, semi-trucks careening aroung blind curves, rocks and boulders to dodge, and a 40 degree temperature hike as you descend.

Yesterday and today I've been cooking.

Yes, me, cooking! I made a huge pot of Oxtail Stew yesterday. Today I made a Spinach Quiche, a giant batch of Pico de Gallo, and Barbequed Pulled Chicken for sandwiches. It's a tad spicy.

I also did three loads of laundry, vacuumed, washed the dishes (they were both dirty) and in between, I walked the cat.

Fig wants out all the time now. He cries at the door. He likes to roll around on the sidewalk, scratching his back, then I drag him over to the gravel. He'll walk on the gravel to the woods, and then goes nuts: Pouncing on bugs, chasing birds, eating anything green, and stopping to roll in the duff. I have to carry him home, he balks at the very thought. I've created a monster. This morning he brought me his leash in bed. When we're not outside, he's a glutton for attention and action: throw the toy, fetch the toy, pet me, rub my tummy, throw the toy...

There's also trouble in Paradise: robberies in our neighborhood in Kino. One was almost vicious, destruction for no reason other than meanness. Everyone there is on edge, accusations flying, tempers hot. I'm thinking it's a mistake to bring Ron here, leaving our home unprotected, hence the "Oy Gevalt" title of this post. We'll think on it some more.

Here's my new Johnny Depp coffee mug I had made at Wal-Mart's Photo Department:

And here's where my heart is ALL THE TIME:

Dylan, Jon, and Nora

Only one month to go!

2011-07-09T09:13:00.000-06:00

One month sounds shorter than 4 weeks, doesn't it? Yes, I'm well-ready to go home. While glad to have been able to earn my last summer's wages in a shorter period of time, it's been mostly a rush hour traffic snarl of headaches and frustrations:

Two corporate entities trying to coordinate services: miserable failure. My travel nurse agency vs. the dialysis company. From the first day (where and when is orientation?) to the last few weeks, where they suddenly can't manage to fax my timecard to the right number. And running throughout, the pervasive themes of short-staffing and contract-breaching.
Bed bugs. This is day #12 in a cheap motel without a kitchenette. (Turns out my agency has a $70 cap for nurses on temporary lodging rates. They have contracts in larger cities with extended-stay chains, but not here.) Last night, the phone call saying the extermination is finished, but it will probably be another week to remove the furniture, clean the apartment, move in NEW furniture, and get that furniture inspected by the bed bug wranglers. Sigh.
Homesick. VERY homesick. Miss my house with the bright colors, my cat, my ocean, the smells, the garden. Oh, and my husband.

I do love the White Mountains, though. Gorgeous pine woods (now that the fires are out) and quirky touristy shops (when I'm not too exhausted to go shopping) and lovely mild temperatures (between smoke-filled skies and the current monsoons).

Plus I have this for entertainment:

He was timid and a bit snooty at first, not for long. Fig's been my salvation in this motel room. He watches for signs of my waking up, then brings me toys to play with him. He's sort of a night owl, while I'm not, but it's been great. There's the mystery of the catnip mice, though: they disappear. Don't know where they go, maybe he eats them, or buries them in his litter box, or the housekeepers throw them out? We're on batch # 4 now...If his people don't return to claim him before August 6, I'm keeping him. He's been VERY curious about the birds and smells outside, so I bought a harness and leash to take him out for a walk.Very steep learning curve for this cat, though. It's a drag, not a walk.

Today is day 2 of a three day weekend off for me. Yesterday I had to go to work for a few hours, however, to "Do The Labs". Review the monthly blood tests and make changes in the IV medication doses, and document it all in their stupid antiquated computer program. My manager and the other RN both were off all week.

And so it goes. Now accepting "orders" for stateside shopping to bring home to Mexico. You know, stuff that's not sold there: printer ink for American printers, diet tonic water, Mountain Dew, certain specialty grocery items. Soon, very soon!

Fig and Bedbugs

2011-06-29T04:45:00.002-06:00

Meet Fig, short for Figaro.

Saturday morning I was browsing the Show Low Craigslist and saw a listing: "Need to board my cat for a month". I called. Nice young couple with kids needed to travel to Ohio in their motorhome, and the cat hates the motorhome. After ascertaining that they would indeed return for the cat before August 6th when I return to Mexico, I agreed to have Fig for a month. I told the nice young man (Joe) that he's doing me a bigger favor than I'm doing him. I was SO lonely without my cat to talk to and care for, but couldn't possibly adopt another pet here and bring it home: Rocky wouldn't like it. And at 14, Rocky shouldn't have to share his people and home with a new cat.

So I have Fig. Can't believe how diametrically different two male gray/white cats can be. Fig is somewhat timid, affectionate, and playful. Rocky's none of those. They do both eat things I wish they wouldn't: Rocky eats mice and lizards, Fig ate my Christmas Cactus the first day I left him to go to work.

So after work, I sat at that table, Fig was laying on the Sunday newspaper pile and reaching up slyly to snag the cactus. I would shout NO! and make a S-S-S-S!!! noise. He'd retreat, then do it again 30 seconds later. FIFTY times we did this. He won, I moved the cactus.

The Bedbugs

I've been getting some sort of bites, without even being outside. Monday I showed them to the doctor where I work, and he said they were bedbug bites. I had the apartment manager arrange with my travel agency to get the exterminator to come check. My rental bed/headboard was absolutely infested with bedbugs. Turns out there's a history with that furniture rental company, something about beds that had been returned from Whiteriver. SO creeped out. When the exterminator sprayed the headboard crevices, bedbugs came running out, like a horror movie.

So Fig and I are in a motel for a week or so, until the extermination treatments are complete AND I get new furniture. I spent the whole day yesterday washing everything (all my clothes and bedding) in hot water and drying in a hot dryer. The motel room doesn't have a kitchenette, just a tiny microwave and fridge, so I'll be eating takeout a lot. And poor Fig is having to cope with more change in such a brief time. He lost his brother a short while back to a freak accident, then his family leaves him, then exterminators invade, and now he's in a motel room with a loud air conditioner and people walking by the window. He's under the bed most of the time.

Father's Day

2011-06-19T07:05:00.002-06:00

I wrote once before of the annoyance I feel when strangers "Merry Christmas!" me. (How Dare You Presume I'm Christian? ) I've begun to feel the same way about Father's Day. Yesterday the Wal-Mart checker HFD'd me, and I bit off an angry riposte as my eyes filled up.

I think "Happy Father's Day" is just not a very happy thing to hear for a whole lot of people, especially in my age bracket where we're losing our parents rapidly. I do say Happy Father's Day to people I know, who still have their fathers, and will presumably be celebrating that fact today.

My dad's been gone over 10 years, and Father's Day was a big deal for him and our family. It usually involved fishing, barbecueing, grandkids running around, sunshine, presents, and laughs.

They told me TIME heals, and it's true, I no longer have that ache in my chest, that fresh sense of loss and sadness that was there for so long. The words Dad and Father now bring a sweetness, an immediate enveloping warmth. Like he's hugging me. But not the phrase Happy Father's Day. Today is anything but.

Here are a couple of Fathers I DO wish a very Happy Father's Day to, though:

Jon with a wet Dylan

Jon with Nora (wearing Tommy Hilfiger)


Grampa Ron

Daddy Ron

So today I'm trying to forget it's Father's day. I'm alone in Show Low Arizona, my favorite Dads are hopefully being feted and adored, even if from a distance, and my own Dad is hugging me once again.

Fire!

2011-06-06T04:52:00.000-06:00

The Wallow Fire is moving both east to New Mexico and west to us. It's maybe 20 miles away as the crow flies. Yesterday I drove to the Ho-Dah Casino, and it was SO smoky that I had to slow down a few times for visibility. Springerville is only 10 miles from the casino.

My Google Map

Some of the patients and staff of our little group of dialysis clinics have been evacuated already, and it says this fire is 0% contained. And supposed to get windier today.

Luckily I have so few possessions with me here in Show Low, it won't take me long to pack up and go wherever they tell me we'll be dialyzing these people.

More to come...

One Down, Two To Go!

2011-05-30T07:44:00.001-06:00

My three month contract in Show Low Arizona is almost 1/3 done. The time's going fast, which is great because I'm SO homesick for my casita and my cat. Oh, and my husband.

I have three days off in a row, but too low on funds to go far or do anything that costs money. The first day was spent recuperating from work, as always. My feet and knees just kill me. I was limping around work Friday singing that song from the musical Most Happy Fella, "Ooh, my feet!" Can't believe I'm that old, nobody there ever heard of it.

This Memorial Day weekend, the entire town collectively decided to have garage sales. In Minnesota, you put up a neon sign on a stick, or staple it to a pole. Here they write on the side of a cardboard carton weighed down with a rock. Almost every corner has a mass of boxes with arrows pointing everywhere. I've continued to try to add color to this drab apartment. Here's a $1 find:

Basset Hound Poster

I hung it over the sofa.


I painted the frame the same color as the swan...

I found TWO of these, and got the owner down to $5 for both. Rusty wrought iron cats, with tacky silk flowers in a highball glass. They'd look better with little cacti in them. They're identical, not truly a pair, so I think I'll give one to my neighbor Eileen in Kino. She likes cats, but only has dogs.

And last is a free bamboo calendar from the Chinese restaurant:

No, I really don't have a place for the Bassett Hound poster in my casita or RV. It might just get left behind, a nice surprise for the next tenant...I'm keeping the Jack Sparrow poster though, even if it has to go on the back of the bathroom door or something. The cat and swan planters can live outside.


OMG, those eyes!

Yesterday, MyYahoo said we had a severe weather warning here. I'm used to severe weather warnings that precede heavy wet things pelting down. Turned out it was just wind, with gusts to 60 mph. And it blew my new bird feeder off my patio railing and I spent a good hour sweeping up birdseed. I hope to go fishing today, it's less windy. Yesterday I finally found Rainbow Lake: it looked like you could surf on it. There are rafts of ducks there, so I'll bring them my 3/4 loaf of stale bread. I've GOT to learn to freeze stuff, I waste so much. They should sell 1/2 loaves of bread.

And check this out! Here are two receipts from yesterday. (Sorry about the blurry phone photo, GEEZ I miss my camera.) Both are two $1 purchases, McDonald's and Family Dollar Store. McDonald's added 23 cents tax and Family Dollar added 18 cents. What's up with that? I don't ever remember paying over 10% sales tax ANYWHERE.

OK, sun's nicely up and time to get outside. I'm going to see if there's a place where I can wash my own truck at this apartment complex. If not, the fish are beckoning...

Life in Show Low

2011-05-24T09:20:00.000-06:00

I'm really loving this town! It's actually three towns within 7 miles or so, if you include Lakeside and Pinetop. Here's the Google Maps link to the area. CLICK

I added a Johnny Depp/Jack Sparrow poster above my little desk. His eyes follow you.

I cooked one night! Up til now, I've either been eating Jack-In-The-Box tacos or nuking something, but Sunday night I actually made this, and it was terrific. Hot Italian sausages, Anaheim peppers, leeks, a dollop of Hoisin sauce, a dash of beer (wasn't saucy enough): all sauteed and topped with Mozzarella cheese.There was some leftover Fettucini Alfredo, and some good fresh French bread to round it out.

I went fishing Sunday! Didn't catch anything, but they took my bait a couple of times. Saw other people catch some trout, and did see a very large fish chasing minnows right near the shoreline while I was rigging up, but it was gone when I was ready. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

I've been browsing thrift stores and yard sales quite a bit, and the best parts of that are the people I talk to there. This area seems to be a laid-back mix of aging hippies, Native Americans, and (mi favorito) Mexicans. There was a man in the WalMart parking lot holding a turkey, with another one in the open back of his hatchback car. He was selling fresh Araucana chicken eggs and I bought some. His story took 1/2 hour and he was delightful. The turkeys are his pets, tame, and do tricks.

I got to meet my online friend Ara Gureghian! I blogged about him back in March, the guy with the motorcycle and sidecar with his pitbull friend Spirit. He had just blogged on his website CLICK that he was in Show Low, so I emailed him and we arranged to meet in the K Mart parking lot. Amazing man, travels all over on that bike with the dog, camping in beautiful places. It was a cool morning, and Spirit was a bit shivery, so Ara said he'd probably put his heated jacket on him.

Had a distressing day yesterday. I apparently clicked on a bad link on Facebook and VOILA! Trojan virus masquerading as a Spyware program. Took over my computer, couldn't do anything. Had to spend almost 3 hours on the phone with HP getting it removed. Cost $62. I think it's quite curious that it happened 2 days after my laptop warranty expired... It made me very anxious about our online accounts AND not being able to contact Ron in Mexico. Really brought home how dependent we are on the internet. With no phone service where our casita sits, contact is only by SKYPE or IM programs. (I love SKYPE, you all should download it.) We do have the Magic Jack phone, but the sound quality is terrible: all broken up and staticky.

Ron's never home anyway. Always out fishing, and when he IS home, he and neighbor Jack are sitting outside, drinking beer and solving the problems of the universe. I don't believe I'm missed all that much!

The job's going well. I'm an old dog learning a new computer system there. Yes, nursing now is 1/2 computer documentation and 1/2 nursing. They're being patient with me, and the patients are beginning to realize I know what I'm doing (the nursing half, anyway.)

So there it is, life in Show Low is proving to be very different from anywhere I've lived before. Minnesota really IS like the movie Fargo, and San Diego is, well, Californian. I'm eager to see more of the area, and with 3 days off every week I'll be wandering around and trying to see it all.

Alone again, for the first time.

2011-05-19T09:21:00.000-06:00

Apologizing in advance for the blurry phone photos. My camera's in Mexico, and I haven't gotten the hang of this yet.

At the age of 21, I went straight from my parents' home to my first marriage. Seven years later, we separated and I moved to an apartment, but my toddler son was with me 1/2 the time. But I wasn't alone very long, because I met Ron two weeks after I moved there and we've been together ever since.

I'm alone now, for a three month stint as a travel nurse, and it's SO weird. To have lived 58 years in the close company of others and suddenly have:
NOBODY to talk to.
NOBODY to pick up after.
NOBODY to consider in my daily proceedings.
NOBODY to lean on or share the burdens. Or open jars.
No noise.

It's only been a week here in the apartment, and it's sterile-clean. Turns out I'm not a sloppy housekeeper after all. I find myself picking up a lint thing off the carpet, walking to the trash can under the kitchen sink, and disposing of it. And every night, I wash and put away my bowl, 2 spoons, coffee cup, and gin and tonic glass.Who IS this person?

I'm talking to my two plants. I'd read somewhere they like that. Not that I consider myself a talker, as I have a high need for solitude, but I miss the option of having someone to talk to.

My Christmas Cactus.

SO quiet. Too quiet. Having worked daily since my arrival, the TV's only been on for the 2 hours in the evening before I go to bed. At home in Mexico, it's on whenever Ron's awake. CNN, sports, Military channel, History channel.

I'm eating badly. This week I'm plowing through a family-size Stouffer's Lasagna, alternating with an 8 piece fried chicken from the Safeway deli. That's all, except for a bowl of ice cream most evenings. Sometimes I fall asleep in my recliner and miss the ice cream part. (Ice cream wasn't possible at home in Mexico, too far from the store.)

Usually I'm in this recliner


Or here on my laptop

After five years living in a fifth wheel and a tiny casita crammed with furniture and gaudy decor, this spacious neutral-hued apartment takes some getting used to. It's awfully white. With brown, black, and beige for contrast. I bought a planter at a yard sale for $1. Big red ceramic swan. It had red-white-and-blue plastic flowers in it. Now it has a cactus (50 cents, next yard sale). Pretty much the only color in the whole apartment.

Don't you think I need a huge Johnny Depp poster on that white wall? Maybe this one?

I love the area! It's mountains and lakes and rivers, with pine trees and elk. The temperatures were a big change; 40s at night (or colder, snowed last night!) and 60s and 70s during the day. Smells piney, reminds me of Gin. You know, the juniper berry smell. There are elk right across the road from the clinic I work at, they wander down the slope mornings and browse around. Last Sunday I drove over to Show Low Lake and talked to a few locals there for a long time. It's stocked with rainbow trout, and also has walleyes and catfish. The top two state record walleyes came out of there: same angler, Gregg Munck, a local.

I'm going to LOVE the shopping here. There's a Big Lots, several Dollar stores, WalMart, K-Mart, four thrift stores, and garage/yard sales everywhere. For someone that doesn't like to pay retail, it's almost a mecca. Not that I have room for more stuff when I return to Mexico, but still...

The job is going to be OK. The manager's terrific, staff are nice, and the patients have been mostly welcoming, so far. Having to learn a new computer system is awful, but I'll get it. My feet and legs hurt after 10 hours standing, hence the recliner. Have also rediscovered the pleasure of soaking in a bathtub: it's been a long time.

So between work, fishing, shopping, and exploring these mountains, I'll be OK. Just kind of lonely.

And so it goes...

2011-05-09T20:17:00.000-06:00

This morning, I left the hotel to do a couple of errands. Found myself near the dialysis clinic where I was supposed to go tomorrow morning for orientation, so I thought "Well! I'm going in! Introduce myself, find out where to go tomorrow and at what time."

They never heard of me. Had no plan to orient me. No staff available. No orientation classes anywhere in the city.

Then there was a gazillion phone calls: my recruiter, her manager, the clinic's education supervisor (on vacation), the Show Low manager, and HER supervisor. I was sent back to the hotel to await a plan.

I REALLY hated getting the phone call (at 3 PM) that said "Pack it up and drive to Tucson. You'll start orientation there tomorrow at 7AM."

Turns out (although it's still unclear exactly what went wrong) the education coordinator that OK'd my start date went on vacation and didn't quite communicate it properly...

So I'm in Tucson. Plain old motel, but the room has a fridge, coffeepot, microwave. I gave my frozen pizzas to the desk manager here at the motel. Threw away 1/2 carton chocolate almond mocha ice cream.

Grrrr......

Hurry Up and Wait

2011-05-07T06:31:00.001-06:00

So I got the job. I'm going to work a 13 week contract in Show Low, Arizona, hopefully the last gig of my career. I've never done the "Travel Nurse" thing before, because I really hate learning a new job, with new people, new policies and procedures, new everything. Old is familiar, old is comfortable, old is Macaroni and Cheese. Cinnamon toast. My flannel flamingoes-and-campers pajama pants...

I was packed before I even got the job, OCD that I am. All I had to throw in were the toiletry bags (yes, plural). There are a gazillion Travel Nurse agencies, and all supply a FURNISHED apartment. The one I chose, AMN Nurses Rx, does as well, but upon questioning I discovered their cupboards are bare. So I packed minimally for a three month stay, and luckily duplicates were available as we have a stocked RV in addition to the casita. Not wanting to leave items in the bed of the truck, exposed to thieves and the elements, I did NOT include large things I can pick up cheaply on arrival (laundry basket, trash can, etc.) Did I forget anything? Certainly, continue reading...

So far, I'm still in Phoenix, where my orientation will be. I drove up on May 1 and checked into one of those extended stay hotel suites: full kitchen, tiny living room, bedroom, bathroom, 3 days for $200. My employer won't begin paying until May 5. Went to a grocery store for essentials. Came back to my kitchen to discover what I thought was an oven wasn't. It's a dishwasher. There's a 2-burner range, microwave, full fridge with icemaker, toaster, coffeemaker, but no oven. So the frozen pizzas aren't going to do me much good...

May 2nd was a nightmare. Post office first to pick up our forwarded mail, as my Minnesota Nursing License renewal was in there, and I needed that to apply for the Arizona one. Then to the Board of Nursing, completed packet in hand. After only an hour's wait, I was checked in and sent a few blocks away for fingerprinting, $12. Back to the Board, application processed, cough up $250, done. I could come pick up my license in 48 hours.

Next, 10:30 AM to the clinic for my medical clearance: drug screen, physical, blood test for hepatitis and rubella titers, and TB test. One hour waiting to be called, and then only to be given a stack of forms to fill out. Another hour before I'm called again, but merely to be informed that my employer is paying only for the drug screen, and please cough up $250. I may need to ask them for something for this cough. I've never in my 34 year career had to pay for pre-employment medical screening.

Another hour's wait and I asked to use the restroom. Big mistake. Twenty minutes later they called me to go pee in a cup for the drug screen, and I couldn't. Not a drop. I drank a gallon of water and waited 30 minutes, and tried again. 2 drops, but they wanted more. More water, more waiting. I finally was able to produce their sample at 3 PM.

Back to the waiting room. After only an hour, I was shown to a cubical, where I shivered in a paper gown for 30 minutes. And then in a flurry of activity, I was given a physical, had my bloodwork drawn, given a TB test, and was all done at 5:30 PM. Only seven hours.

May 3: errands, mostly going back and forth to Staples to fax stuff to my employer. Had to buy scrubs, mine are in storage in Minnesota, except for two pair I use for jammies. $48.

May 4: I picked up my nursing license in the morning, and my medical results in the afternoon, and then faxed it all at Staples. Faxes are $1.79, EACH. Cough up $30.

I busted my ass getting all this done quickly because the manager at my Show Low clinic needed me to start ASAP. I was legal and ready to go Wednesday afternoon. Turned out THEIR orientation staff are unavailable until Tuesday, May 10. Yes. Six days to kill. No salary yet. Plus this coughing spell! Have already spent $1000 with diesel fuel. Fairly depressed and I miss my cat. Oh, and my husband...

So I've been shopping. Am getting my fix of thrift stores and yard sales, although yard sales in 100 degree heat are less than fun. Got a red cashmere cardigan, new with $159 tag, for $3 at Goodwill!

I eat Jack-In-The-Box tacos every day. 2 for 99 cents and I get 6. They're small.

Yesterday they had to replace my fridge in my suite after I discovered soupy ice cream when I tried to have some for breakfast. The ice cubes were fine, though. Weird, huh? Had to throw out all the other stuff in there, too. I think the hotel should reimburse me for that, but they said no.

So, the things I forgot. Something else occurs to me every couple of hours. Lamp. There's probably only overhead lighting, needed a desk/reading lamp, Goodwill $1. Pillows. Even if they ARE supplied, I don't want to sleep on someone's used pillow. $3 at Big Lots. I remembered my cocktail shaker, but not a lawn chair or a fishing rod. I brought 3 purses, none of them adequate enough to tote my laptop and paper files around: compartmented, padded shoulder tote 50 cents, yard sale.

Today I might go to the zoo. Or a movie. Or a bookstore. Or all three. Need to do laundry. The time will pass, I'm trying to view this as a vacation. Actual work is always such a shock after 6 months of sitting on the beach in a lawn chair...

Dialysis Nurse: The Final Chapter.

2011-04-26T08:32:00.001-06:00

I've been a dialysis nurse since 1977. When you do the same thing every day for 34 years, you can get pretty good at it. But you can also get somewhat weary of it, as I consider it to be a job for young people. There's very little-to-no sit down work there. On your feet 10 to 14 hours. Often routine, but still life-and-death stuff going on. When I first started in dialysis, the staff to patient ratio was 1:1. Now clinics have one nurse for up to 14 patients at a time, with one patient care tech for every four patients. It can get hopping. They can crash, cramp, vomit, or get diarrhea in the blink of an eye. Cardiac events are quite possible. And none of those things are written into the charge nurse's task list for the day: the mounds of paperwork sometimes have to get completed after the door's locked at night.

Occasionally they all get cramps at the same time...

This summer will be my last as a dialysis nurse, and it's shaping up to be something completely different.

I officially retired in 2005 when we sold everything and became fulltime RVers. But within a year, we bought this property in Mexico, planning for me to work part-time 4 summers to pay it off. So I returned every April to the dialysis clinic in Minnesota that I retired from, and it's been fairly easy to tolerate. Same job, same co-workers, some of the same patients. Same = good at my age. Plus the grandbabies are nearby.

However, this summer they can't use me there, as they finally got staffed adequately and competently. (It took them a little while to replace me, mostly because it's in the middle of nowhere.) Another clinic in the cities was good enough to say they could use me some, plus I could "float" to other clinics. I hate floating: patients and other staff also prefer sameness, and The New Nurse never gets any respect.

Now add in this: diesel fuel approaching $5/gallon, Bahia Kino Mexico to Minneapolis Minnesota is 4000 miles round trip, towing our fifth wheel nets a maximum 10 miles per gallon, comes to about $2000. Just for diesel. Plus the RV park there is $500/month. Plus the floating thing...

This wasn't looking very favorable. We do OK on my husband's SS and disability, but there's never much extra. And it's fine in Mexico, we do not have a very expensive lifestyle here. But to contemplate $3500 right off the top when I only need to make $5000 to satisfy our mortgage balloon seemed wrong somehow. I began to look at other options.

CLICK

I always knew about Travel Nursing, but never considered it for me because of that sameness lure. Learning new skills is no longer a thirstful quest in my life, if you get my drift. Now it looks like the answer for us. For a similar salary, plus an apartment and daily stipend, I can work a 13 week contract in Arizona. It's within a long day's drive from here, so trips "home" are possible. There should even be a small amount of sameness to mitigate, as the same company I retired from owns 3/4 of the dialysis clinics everywhere, same machines, same procedures.

Pros and cons? Sure. Ron would stay here. Good and bad, no further comment there. I'm not licensed to practice in Arizona yet, but it only takes two days to do that. We wouldn't see the grandbabies. Bad. But I'd make enough money to afford to fly us to Minnesota for a visit after the contract's over. Plus I want to buy one of these this summer, which would be much harder after losing $3500 driving to Minnesota.

Can't you just see me in this? Cruising up the beach, over the dunes, to Ladies Who Lunch?

So this travel thing will get nailed down this week, or shelved entirely. If I'm going to take that float job in Minnesota, I need to be there by May 6th. Stay tuned.

ADDENDUM:

I GOT THE JOB, WILL BE IN SHOW LOW ARIZONA FOR 13 WEEKS STARTING NEXT WEEK. WOO-HOO!

A Great Dinner!

2011-04-07T13:31:00.003-06:00

As an atheist, I don't buy the whole heaven concept. I do believe most strongly that after death, our soul/spirit/essence continues in a parallel plane of existence, sort of vibrating-but-just-out-of-reach. I also believe these souls sometimes drift across and contact us, often in that just falling asleep or just waking up moment of loosened consciousness. You know when you suddenly think of someone that's been gone many years, out of the blue? I believe it's because that soul just touched you.

I often think of people I've lost, wish I could get answers to unresolved questions, wonder if they have any current awareness of my thoughts and deeds. Make sure they know how much they're missed.

Anyway, last week while I was watching The Price Is Right (my husband rarely misses it, and would be apoplectic to know I just wrote that, but he never reads my blog), they had a Showcase that seemed like I had chosen it personally, including a bass boat. This made me ponder what else I'd select to win in a perfect made-for-me Showcase. Soon I was thinking:

What if there was a Showcase where you could win a dinner anywhere you want with any 10 people in history you want? (I know, my mind goes to strange places sometimes.)

So I made my list. It wasn't easy, because there are some people I'd like to ask questions of, but certainly wouldn't want at my dinner table. Attila. The Donner Party...

Picture this group being seated at Gordon Ramsay's Restaurant in Chelsea, UK:

1.   My Dad. My Hero.
2. Ella Fitzgerald, for sheer delight and entertainment.
3. John Muir, the naturalist with true vision and a path.
4. Lucy, the Australopithecan.
5. D.B. Cooper. I just want to know.
6.   J.R.R. Tolkien, just to see how his mind works.
7. John Belushi, funniest man who ever lived.
8.   Robin Hood, the real one, another hero.
8a. Geronimo, a backup in case Robin Hood is fictional.
9.   Helen Keller. I understand she was a hoot!
10. Amelia Earhart. Another "I just want to know".

And here's what it would look like, with apologies to da Vinci and Christians everywhere. Click on it to enlarge:

L to R: Muir, Keller, Hood, Lucy, Tolkien, Fitzgerald, Dad, Me, Earhart, Geronimo, Belushi, Carey and Barker.

Who would you want, and where would you eat?

My Crafty Side

2011-03-26T11:03:00.003-06:00

I figure I've entered the last 1/3 of my life, sort of a sobering thought. The first third was all just a set-up for the second third (which turned out to be CONSEQUENCES of one's actions), and now the last third has me scrambling for the punchline. Which so far seems to be "Seriously???"

In my next life, I'll know how to deal with life's punches sans alcohol, isolation, or avoidance. But in this go-round, I seem to have an inordinately high requirement for both solitude and instant gratification. I've always taken to heart my dad's most sage bit of advice: Choose a career where you'll love going to work every day. Well, that didn't happen (seriously, dialysis nurse?) but it did provoke me to find alternate sources for both solitude and instant gratification. People really should be able to make a living doing something they love. In most cases, it won't be lucrative enough and will need to be supplemented by work one doesn't love quite so much. Sucks, but it's been a reality for me and most people I know.

So, crafts. I've found men like to make fun of women who do craftwork. "It's worthless, it's a waste of time and resources, nobody wants it, it's tacky." I feel sorry for those tiny little minds. Craft-making is a hobby, and men have hobbies too. Even something as deceptively slothful as sitting in a lawnchair and observing the human condition is a hobby. I find men's hobbies are more expensive generally. DirecTV's NFL package is $335.00 (sports-watching, their main hobby), not to mention golf, fishing or hunting. So a $10 bag of yarn is nothing in the grand scheme of things...

The division of labor in our Mexican paradise is hobby-based. My husband's hobby here is beautifying the yard, but he calls it work. Therefore all the other work falls to me, because his hobby requires physical exertion and he's too tired to do the dishes or vacuum. He does do laundry, though, because the washer and clotheslines are in his domain and he can multi-task. It can take me all day to wash dishes if the bird-watching's good enough...

Ron's cactus-driftwood fence. Click to enlarge, it's great!

Ron's rock-paved walkway, partially complete

I just love creating something useful or beautiful or just delightfully quirky from something else. It's even better if someone else wants to buy it.

There's a website called Etsy

It's a place to sell handmade stuff, and has a burgeoning viewer base, people wanting quality and uniqueness. I've had very few sales, but then I don't work at the marketing side of it. You can spend some serious money marketing your shop, which sort of defeats my purpose. But there are support groups, forums, advice, contests, and TONS of great items for sale. Best place to find one-of-a-kind gifts.

So to satisfy my creative urges, I go hole up in the RV (Craft Central) for long blocks of time, designing, assembling, and photographing what I hope to be saleable items. I also am now able to crochet, wet-felt, and watch TV at the same time. Multi-tasker, that's me. Some day I'll be discovered. All it would take is for Angelina Jolie or Katie Holmes to buy a pair of my baby booties

or for Project Runway to want my seashell-and-pottery-shard necklaces.

I also make things for Dylan and Nora (smallest grandbabies, at 3 and 5 young enough they might forget me in my long winter absences), things that they'll see daily and think "My Gramma Barb made me this!"

Nora's Mutant Bunny Slippers

Dylan's Fish Slippers

So when my attention span's long enough, I can execute a project or two daily and feel fulfilled. I can go back to Minnesota and work summers in dialysis as long as I have crafts and grandbabies to come home to. (This is my last year of that, can I have a heartfelt HOO-RAH!)

So back to dishwashing and vacuuOH! I HEAR ORIOLES!

Creature Discomforts

2011-03-16T10:23:00.004-06:00

I have Entomophobia, a fear of insects. It may stem from the time I was stung over 50 times as a child. I was at Day Camp, and we were sliding on our backsides down a steep dirt hill. It was WAY fun, until I veered a bit and knocked the beehive off and they stung me all the way down. Now bee stings are life-threatening to me, and I carry Epi-Pens wherever I go. They're stashed in the truck, bathroom, my purse, and one is always present on the kitchen table.

Epi-Pen

Minnesota's actually sort of low on my insect radar, despite the mosquito-filled air, black fly clouds, and bee swarms, because of my friend 100% DEET. They'll hover an inch away, but won't land. I also stash DEET everywhere. It even sort of blends with my favorite fragrance, Avon's Skin-So-Soft.

Mexico's all the way up there, though, on my anxiety scale for insects. Mexican insects appear to really like DEET, plus they have insects I've never had to worry about much in Minnesota.

There are these:

No-See-Ums

(Get it? No-See-Ums?) They're called Jejenes here, and they come in the summer and early autumn. And here's what they do to my husband: tiny red dots that he says don't even itch.

With me, each bite becomes a nickel-sized, raised, raging, burning, maddening itch, lasts 5 days, and I spend the whole Jejene season shut inside the air conditioned RV. The casita's not air conditioned, and those little fiends come right through the screens. Only ammonia dabbed on the bites eases the itch, and then only for 20 minutes.

Then there are these:

Bees

I probably wouldn't have as many bees if I didn't fill the birdbath and water the garden. They seem to like water. Hence all the Epi-Pens.

I've not seen mosquitos here, nor biting flies, but then I've not been here during the summer. Yet... In any event, maybe they'll respond to DEET.

The garden has these sometimes on the fruit trees. I'm sure they aren't a threat for biting or stinging, the basis for most insect phobias, but they are SO ugly and creepy-looking. This one actually reared up and audibly hissed at me:

Caterpillar

But to accelerate my phobia, Mexico goes the distance. We've found 6 or 8 of these inside the casita to date:

Scorpion

Yesterday there was one behind the canister of the vacuum cleaner when I removed it for emptying. Until then, all the ones I'd seen were either high up on the wall or dead in the sink, and I've been able to get my husband to dispose of them. Yesterday he wasn't around, so I carried the vacuum out to the deck, waited until it crawled out, and smashed it into an oozy wet spot with his walking stick. I could not believe how high the ICK factor got with that scorpion! My heart was pounding, I was sweating and breathing rapidly. And I felt zero remorse after killing it. I can't even kill spiders normally.

Which brings me to today. 3AM, I enter the casita, flashlight in hand, put the light on, and catch a movement out of the corner of my eye. There, on the sofa, was this:

Tarantula

I think I peed a little. Uttered a couple of those words my Ex-Marine husband taught me. Even a normal spider in the shower or ceiling paralyzes me, but Holy Crap, there was a frickin' TARANTULA on my frickin' SOFA! And it wasn't sleeping, it was moving back and forth, kinda fast, looking at me. I think it was stalking me. All I could think of was corralling it so I knew where it was until my Tarantula-Wrangler woke up. So I did this:

He doesn't get up as early as I do. Nobody does. (I once stood on my coffee table for 45 minutes until my husband came inside to get rid of a scorpion on the wall.) I tried to sit here at the computer, except I had to keep looking at my 4 pound casserole dish to see if it was moving. But I couldn't hang: my heart was pounding, I was sweating and breathing rapidly. Had to go back over to the RV, flashlight in hand (flashlight always because of these, found on the RV pad back in November):

Rattler

So I tried to be quiet, working on some of my jewelry-making, but my Tarantula Wrangler soon woke up. I told him of the situation next door and, after scoffing at my fear (why do men have to do that?), he dutifully went over and removed it unharmed outside in the bushes. I think I'll have to put him on retainer.

When I looked up the word for insect phobia (Entomophobia, first sentence), I also found the steps for desensitization for this phobia, something about drawing pictures of them, then looking at photos of them, ramping up exposure etc. Which would be beneficial, I guess, to mitigate the heart-pounding, blahblah, but it sure wouldn't keep me from avoiding them.

It's now 5 hours later, and I'm still a bit queasy and anxious from the tarantula. Can't imagine where it got in, if there are more, just very nervous. One of the few areas where Minnesota's better than our Mexican Paradise...

Ara and Spirit, I LOVE THESE GUYS!

2011-03-14T07:45:00.000-06:00

Many bloggers have a list of other bloggers blogs that they follow, often daily. While perusing those blogs, I often discover more blogs on their blogrolls, and so the list grows. I've followed this one off and on for a few years now, and wanted to share.

The Oasis Of My Soul

A motorcycle and sidecar, a man and his pitbull.

What's not to like?

© 2011 Ara Gureghian www.theoasisofmysoul.com

Ara Gureghian is a nomad, along with Spirit, his friend the pitbull. His base camp is a piece of land with a very large tent near Big Bend State Park in Texas. When they go on the road, the tent goes in a big metal storage container.

© 2011 Ara Gureghian www.theoasisofmysoul.com

His online journal is prolific, and has something for everyone: excellent photography, mystical ramblings and soulful insight. Even recipes, as he's a classically-trained chef. But to me, the best part of his whole experience is the dog. Ara's constant concern for his dog's well-being is an underlying theme throughout his writing. There are actually heated garments and blankets so that Spirit is safe and comfortable in the wind's teeth.

© 2011 Ara Gureghian www.theoasisofmysoul.com

While there are over four years of archived entries, reading them all could take weeks. I will try to extract the major catalysts in his forward journey for you.

Ara is Armenian, raised in France, culinary training in Switzerland, definitely nomadic genetically and historically. He and Spirit saunter around the country by motorcycle and sidecar and share the journey with us through stunning photography and commentary. It was a strange shock when I recently realized (Duh!) he must have an accent, as his written English grammar and sentence structure are slightly and charmingly non-native-language-speaker construction. Just slightly.

Ara's beloved 26 year old son Lance passed away from liver cancer in 2004, and this journey grew from Ara's need to accept, understand, and find a way to go on. Spirit, a much abused Pit rescued from a shelter, has been a major part of his healing, just as Ara's love and bonding have helped heal Spirit.

The website navigates easily. You can quickly check out say, all his photos of Utah. Or Yosemite. Or copy his recipe for Mango Salsa. While there are apparently subsidizing sponsors for his trips, you'll find a request for donations at the end of every entry in his journal. Ara once compared it to people lining up at Barnes and Noble and demanding free books.

The photographs alone are worth your time, but the story of this traveler and his dog will make you smile.

© 2011 Ara Gureghian www.theoasisofmysoul.com

The Calendar

2011-03-03T07:06:00.003-07:00

Sal and Al

Al and Sal live one street down from us, have been here forever, and while definitely seniors, are bubblier and more spry than all the rest of us combined. One day, Al and a few of his friends were in the hardware store. Al asked off-handedly if the proprietor had their new calendars yet. Apparently last year's calendar (scantily-clad beauties) he'd insisted on displaying prominently in their RV, much to Sal's dismay. Alas, no calendars this year, he was told.

Some time later, Sal and a few of her friends were in the drug store and spied a new calendar similar to the one in her RV. This was preceded by lunch with cocktails, mind you. They hatched a plot: Al's birthday was coming up, and wouldn't it be fun to give him a calendar of scantily-clad beauties that had OUR faces Photoshopped in?

They bought the calendar. We scheduled a photo session for our head shots, also with cocktails. I spent 2 days swapping faces, trying to match skin tones, carefully (pixel-by-pixel) blending edges. Then Joan added text, added the calendar grids, and shopped around to find a binder.

We presented the calendar to Al at the clubhouse Happy Hour, and he loves it. Now we're taking orders to sell them, 150 pesos. Email me to place your order...barbilou2@hughes.net

Here are the Ladies of Kino Bay!

Bette

Sal

Karen

Joan

Maggie

Jan

Delfie

Suzanne

Danielle

Pat

Jill

Add caption

We're planning one for us ladies next year, using the spouses of this year's ladies. Maybe a Firemen Calendar?

It's Going Too Fast

2011-02-28T10:18:00.005-07:00

CLICK TO ENLARGE PHOTOS

Tomorrow's March already! We leave for Minnesota April 20, give-or-take, and it doesn't seem possible that we've been here 4 months. I'm not ready. While I miss my grandbabies' faces and voices achingly and constantly, I know I'll miss my sea and desert almost as much.

Nora and Dylan at Lake Mille Lacs

Ruby and Eli

Garden, sunrise hits Tiburon Island.

I have to work this summer, the LAST summer, then I'll be forever truly retired and indolent. At only 58 years old, I feel beaten down by my life's work and struggles, and am entirely prepared to never again have to bow in humility to the corporate monsters. Maybe I'll even learn to sleep past 3 AM.

Our last couple of weeks here haven't been very eventful or even memorable, but in review, they've been more productive than I would have predicted. Ron has been busily improving our landscaping. He's transplanted scores of desert cacti and trees, and humped rocks for outlining gardens and walkways.

Path to garage, baby cacti both sides, rock border. It'll be "paved" with flat cobblestones.

More rocks and cacti.

He also spent a few days sitting in his Man Cave, sanding and crafting an ironwood walking stick. It's gorgeous.

Master Carver

I've been churning out an expanded line of eclectic shell/leather/beaded jewelry for my Etsy shop, reading some very good books, and enjoying lunches out.

Etsy-bound jewelry

Lunch at Jorge's, Delfie's birthday. Those red beers are Micheladas, dark beer with clamato juice, chili-lime, and salted rims. Mmmmm!

We did do a couple of local explorative trips, poking through the remains of a couple of old haciendas, and a bit of beachcombing/clamming. Hectic pace, eh?

On the way home one afternoon, I saw an odd flash of white to my left and hollered "STOP!" And Ron stood the truck on it's nose. (A friend said her husband would have just said "For WHAT?") There were two Desert Bighorn Rams, full-curls, not 100 yards away. Only a couple of miles from our casita. And can you believe we had BOTH the camera and the camcorder at the ready? That never happens.

Desert Bighorn Sheep

Most of this winter I've been experiencing digestive urgencies. I still don't know what's occurred this year to cause this, but it's not been debilitating. Just a nuisance, and I have needed to stay near my friend-the-toilet a lot. If it remains an issue (Get it? Issue?) when I get back to Minnesota, the VA will sort it out.

Mi Amigo

Tomorrow is payday and my monthly trip to The City for resupply. This trip will include buying a mattress at WalMart. Two friends and I are going to make a day of it, have a good lunch somewhere, and manage to fill our truck to overflow capacity.

Then on Thursday, some more of "The Girls" and I plan to shop the segundas in Calle Doce, where I intend to assemble every metal bedframe there until I find one that fits my new mattress. Danny's Segunda has at least 75 of them.

This Saturday there's a craft sale at another RV park in the village, and I'm taking a table to try to raise a bit of cash selling the felted wool stuff and the new jewelry. Wish me luck.

Random Photos, click on them to enlarge.

2011-02-19T14:35:00.000-07:00

Taken by Pat Evans on Valentine's Day, our 29th Wedding Anniversary

Rocky, age 14.

Neighbor Don, visited us briefly during trip to close up his house. Will be battling a major health issue shortly.

Old quartz mine area

More quartz

Moonset over Tiburon Island, 0700

Sunset over Tiburon Island, 1815

Big pottery shards from old hacienda

The Day The Starfish Died

My catch of the day: Bunch-o-clams, bunch-o-unoccupied olive shells, and my starfishes. Beer included to indicate sizes.

My Gardener!

Where Else But Mexico?

2011-02-15T17:19:00.001-07:00

Valentine's Day Pig Roast

WHR Kino Bay

It was delicious, served with stir-fry vegetables and baked potatoes, cuisine prepared by Eddie, AnnJane, Jim, Karen, Delfie, John, and Enrique. Everyone dressed up in their Island Finery, and a great time was had by all.

And I've had gastrointestinal distress since. Oh well, it was worth it...

Missing!

2011-02-12T07:06:00.009-07:00

I was too exhausted yesterday to blog this.

Thursday, 1PM, Ron said he's going "scavenging" in the truck. He does this maybe once every week or two. Asked did I want to go. I truly debated, then said no. I had a couple of projects going, plus was still in my jammies. I asked what was he going to scavenge? "Rocks". I said to take the walkie-talkie. Off he goes.

At 4:30 PM, when the sun sinks low enough to blind my view of the computer screen and I have to move the curtain, I first began thinking that he'd be pulling up any minute now, and I'd better thaw something for supper.

At 5, I began trying to raise him on the walkie-talkie, but no response. I put the pizza in the oven.

At 5:45, the sun went below the hills on Isla Tiburon, and I went up on the roof with the binoculars and the walkie-talkie. Nada.

Roof view, DAYTIME

I instant-messaged my friend Bette, who is just about as paranoid and OCD as I am, and whose husband John also goes scavenging. She wasn't logged in, though, and by the time she replied it was fully dark outside. She said they'd be right over to get me and we'd go find him.

John had recently shown Ron an area called Rolling Rock beach, and we were all thinking he'd gone back over there. Lots of bad road to get stuck on. Up til that point, mechanical breakdown was #1 on my list of what I should obsess about, followed by medical problem (cardiac event, another stroke, snakebite), and lastly FOUL PLAY.

Typical "road" to Rolling Rock Beach, DAYTIME.

Rolling Rock Access . Click on it, and click Satellite in upper right to see area. Can zoom out upper left to see entire coastline. We searched all that.

John drove all over those roads in the pitch black dark, with Bette and I keeping up each others spirits outlining just how much trouble Ron would be in for this. No truck. When we got back to the gate and saw it still unlocked, my fervent hope that we'd missed each other died. Now there was an actual pain under my sternum, probably acid reflux.

We don't have a marine radio, but our neighbor does. So we rousted Morris and debated whether to get on the radio or go down to the park and organize more searchers. Morris said to get Eddie. Eddie's the WHR park manager, a local, knows everyone and everything.

Eddie with his girls...

Eddie actually passed us in a big hurry at the entrance to the park. We followed him to his place, where he gets out of his truck and said "There's some stupid schmuck stuck on the beach at the Christmas Tree". Sandy said, "Hopefully, that'd be Ron. He went missing." My chest pain went away. Apparently two Mexicans drove to the park and told Jaap that some guy sent them to bring help.

So up the beach we all go in a caravan, Jim and Les in his big truck with the Mexicans, Eddie in his little truck, and us three.

Six miles up the beach we find Ron, the truck sunk to the chassis in the sand at the water's edge. He was fine, freely admitting that he'd fucked up, and didn't need anyone to expound on that. Jim wisely had left his truck back on firmer sand, having seen earlier the section where Ron was stuck. John and Bette went home (and discovered they'd locked themselves out and had to break into their own house).

After much digging, a failed attempt to pull with Eddie's little truck, and determining that the tide had stopped coming up, it was clear we'd be waiting til morning for the tide to recede, and would just leave it there.

So Eddie, me next to him, and Ron and the Mexicans in the back, drive back towards Jim's truck (Jim and Les are walking) and Eddie veers around it on the wrong side. The beach side, where it ends in a little hook at high tide. As a chorus of "NO EDDIE!" floods the little overburdened truck, Eddie's now stuck in the sand as well.

Where Ron Got Stuck
and where Eddie got stuck below him.

Also no hope of getting it out until morning. Two trucks stuck in the sand. Ron says he's staying, has a full gas tank, can run the heater, and the tide isn't going to wash him out to sea. We all go home in Jim's truck.

I spent a sleepless night worrying about CO poisoning, banditos, the waves making the truck engine inoperable and hence no heat, you name it and it consumed my night. But the next morning, even before the sun was up, they were back on the beach digging, shoring up with planks, and VOILA! They're out.

Ron paid the Mexicans for their efforts, thanked everyone else profusely, and spent the day eating, hydrating, and napping. As did I.

WHAT WE LEARNED:

Tell someone where you're going and when to expect you back.
Walkie-Talkies aren't very reliable. We'll be getting a marine radio shortly.
One truly needs to keep important papers (like license numbers) somewhere BESIDES in the truck.
And a flashlight IN the truck.
And drinking water, in case you're stuck somewhere for a long time.
And most of all, we learned these friends of ours are priceless.

Bette and John

Jim

Morris


Les

Harold

Bill with his bride Pat

And to the other rescuers that I don't seem to have photos of: Phil, Jaap. Thanks again, and we hope to pull YOU out of a mess some day!

THAT'S Entertainment!

2011-02-04T12:02:00.003-07:00

Our neighbors Danielle and Norm live in a fifth wheel here. Last week they added a mobile home, and it was THE event of the month.

First, you must understand The Road. Our Dos Palmas neighborhood ("The Hood") and the Western Horizons RV Park are 10 miles from Kino Viejo, and the road is dirt, sand, rubble, rock, washboard, you name it. They actually sell T-Shirts that say "I Survived the Road to WHR." And once a year, intrepid RVers drive their quarter-million-dollar 40 foot motorhomes out here, very slowly. That 10 miles has been known to take 2 hours, depending on road conditions. To bring a MOBILE HOME out here promised to be a sure occasion for a party. Lawn chairs, beverages, cameras, and where else but my roof, right across the street?


Rooftop Voyeurs

It took them an hour to get from Kino Nuevo to the beginning of The Road. And then 3 hours on The Road. So when we finally heard it was en route, we IM'd everyone and gathered for the spectacle. A few of the men went up to The Arch to remove enough of the adjacent posts and fencing on it's left side to allow it to make the turn, as nothing fits through that arch.

We saw it coming down the road, watched it make the turn onto our street, and then the fun started.

So far, it was only missing one tire, a casualty of The Road.

The plan was to pull right, then back it onto the prepared pad. That's their fifth wheel in the back.

So now it's on the pad, but catywampus, so he pulls it back off and...

...when trying to avoid taking out the neighbor's trees and cacti, it gets stuck in the soft sand. So now my husband Ron has to pull the tow truck and the mobile home out with our poor, abused Chevy truck.

Which works, but when the tow truck driver backed it up again, it got stuck again. So Norm had Ron pull him back out, told the driver to drive it all the way out and come in from the other direction.

He runs over a 2 foot tall column of seashells that mark the driveway and breaks the concrete top of their septic. And Norm's looking demented. And we're all on the roof ROFL. Mind, it wasn't funny, but there was alcohol involved. The video segment where the driver takes out 1/2 a Palo Verde tree didn't come out, unfortunately, but now there's a broken window and missing siding, and we're slightly worried about Norm, who's begun gesticulating.

It does finally get onto the pad, straight, without further incident. They have a bit of work ahead of them, aside from the window and siding repairs, but much more roominess to look forward to. And if Danielle needs help finding furnishings for it in the segundas, luckily there's a Professional Segundian across the street.

Too Much Time On My Hands?

2011-01-27T13:53:00.001-07:00

I was just accused of this, but I'll let you be the judge:

Yes, I crocheted a sweater for a friend's guinea pig. Big deal. But as it turns out, I may have found my niche, because nobody else is making them. At least not on Etsy (website for selling handmade stuff.) I did find a couple more by googling, but only the pattern to make it is for sale, not actual sweaters. So I listed it as a custom item. Barbiloulou's Shop Stay tuned.

I really don't have trouble filling my day. I might if I cared to clean more, do more good deeds, or cook for pot lucks. But I don't, and the days go too fast anyway.

Recently, I exposed The Secret to being happily retired in Mexico: One Task Per Day, Maximum. Already today, I did the dishes, washed and hung out 2 loads of laundry, and scrubbed out a rancid beer cooler that may have had forgotten bait in it. That's at least two days worth, right there. Plus I'm dressed! True, I left off the bra (hate'em, need'em but hate'em). Jammies are the norm unless I have a function to attend. And it's almost 2PM. Soon it's time for Phil and Oprah, then I'm grilling bass for dinner. Whew!

Rags To Riches

2011-01-25T11:44:00.002-07:00

There must be a gene that causes this. None of my friends has this condition, although a few may be carriers. I call it Cheap Genes. (Get it? Cheap jeans? Never mind.)

I am categorically unable to pay retail for something if I know I can find better, cheaper, and more durable second-hand. The only things I buy retail any more are gifts, groceries, socks, and underwear. Except once we actually had a Goodwill-Only-Christmas with friends that was tons-o-fun.

As a child growing up in Omaha in the 50s and early 60s, there were no hand-me-downs because I only had one brother, and we were the same size. Mom (and later, I) sewed all my clothes. There weren't any garage sales or thrift stores then. Maybe our Throw-Away Society was still in it's infancy. But when we moved to Minneapolis in 1964, a new facet of my genetic makeup emerged: a thirst for finding treasure in someone else's discards.

There was a long row of thrift stores on West Broadway in North Minneapolis, and I would spend long hours sorting through the junk and crowing with delight: a plaid wool Pendleton shirt, lace curtains, a Levi denim jacket, a pair of Frye boots. One of my first finds was a 1940s gold raw silk halter dress and bolero, something June Allyson or Virginia Mayo might have worn. The premise was simple: the purchase must be something I'd actually use, and it must cost next-to-nothing.

Garage sales became plentiful, but true "finds" are rarer there in my experience. People selling their own stuff know their stuff has worth, and most of the 50 cent items are baby clothes. Thrift store stuff is donated, implying the donor did not value it overmuch. I once bought a car for $100, though, at a garage sale! A 1956 Chevy wagon that needed TLC and freeze plugs.

The best bargains are at church and small, independent thrift stores, followed by AmVets, Salvation Army, and Goodwill. Goodwills DO have bathrooms, though. Consignment stores are for special occasion items. Like my 1973 wedding dress...

The last 15 years brought online treasure-hunting to my repertoire. EBay for shoes and clothes, Amazon for used books, Craigslist for practically everything. I got a free lawnmower through Craigslist that worked for 1.25 summers. Just last year when I needed a blender, I scored one on Craigslist for $5 that has neon lighting while it's running! Here it is today, pureeing squash for soup.

Over the years, I gradually began to collect similar stuff. One strange addiction (per friends and family) was vintage Tupperware. Garage sales truly are best for those, often finding them in FREE boxes. Later, I actually sold some of it on EBay to other collectors. A woman paid me $50 for one of these. I'm not sure why, something to do with robots, she said.

After I'd amassed three leaf bags full of vintage Tupperware (still in storage), I switched to collecting vintage talking stuffed animals. And when we downsized to the RV, I was deeply shocked to discover nobody in the family wanted them. I still have a steamer trunk stuffed with stuffies (in storage).

My grandson Elijah in the steamer trunk

I also collected ugly Mexican pottery for a while, principally birds. Had over 75 at one point, then sold most of them on EBay. Still have a few in storage...

Buying to resell was never a motive: I just wanted the stuff. What is that? I don't consider myself having grown up poor or deprived of material goods, but we probably were lower middle class. Dad was a shoe salesman and Mom was a bookkeeper. I sewed my own clothes and wore my thrift store ensembles while everyone else had store-bought-mass-produced wardrobes. Once I made my homecoming dress with some brown velvet fabric from Dad's Kinney display windows. It had vintage ecru lace at the neck and cuffs. While stunning, it was not crushproof velvet, and soon looked like I'd slept in it. WHICH I DIDN'T!

I probably looked quirky, but nothing in my background ever led me to seek or expect approval from others: I dressed to please myself. We weren't allowed to wear pants to school. Seriously. In high school, I was one of the year book editors, and one Friday we all went to the photography studio to do test shots for senior pictures. The following Monday morning, I walked into the school foyer only to see, in a wall case and SPOTLIGHTED, a gigantic framed enlargement of me in all my Thrift Store glory: a ruffled-front, black-and-white polka dot Lucy dress. SO embarrassing. But by lunch period, I had two offers to buy that dress. And I still have that picture. In storage. None of the family wants it...

Shoes have a special allure in my hunting, and I've stated before it's probably because Dad made me wear ONLY saddle shoes until I was 12. I'm hard to fit: very wide, short feet, like a duck: 6.5 EEE, but an 8M can be worn for a few hours without permanent injury. There are only a couple of brands that fit these feet, and they're not cheap: Birkenstock, Doc Marten, Born. When I find a new-looking pair of Birkenstocks in a thrift store for $2, you better believe I snatch them up. When we downsized to the RV, I realized my shoe collection would not be making the trip in it's entirety: there were over 150 pairs. I'll never forget the woman at our Downsizing Yard Sale, darting around in ecstasy shouting "OH MY GOD! Ferragamo!" and "HOLY CRAP! Louboutin!"

Living in Mexico hasn't slowed me down at all. They have Segundas here: second hand stalls, meccas for tourist cast-offs, dozens of them. My friends (mere carriers of this gene) beg to go with me the next time I go, but none of them can stay the distance: they're ready for lunch or a potty after only 3 or 4 hours. Mexico also has hurricanes, which leaves huge piles of flotsam and jetsam on the beach, providing hours of enjoyment as I scavenge for FREE stuff. Mostly yard decor: driftwood, coyote skulls, shells, dolphin bones. There's always a lot of shoes, however I've yet to find a matching pair. But stuff is stuff, and free stuff is best.

Since becoming fulltime RVers, my habit has necessarily morphed somewhat. I'm still hot for the hunt, but only little stuff. And the Buy One Throw One Rule for shoes and books is inviolate, because for 5 years we've been paying $90 per month for a storage unit in Buffalo, MN. It's not all my stuff, my husband has some responsibility here: he "collects" hunting and fishing stuff. It's all got to go, so stay tuned: big sale this summer. Need some Jimmy Choos? Tupperware Cake-Taker? How about a giant Buddha...

Put It In Writing! Notarize It! Copies To Everyone!

2011-01-23T10:37:00.000-07:00

I'm all up in arms over a story playing out in Minnesota this week. There's an 85 year old man that's being kept alive by his 56 year old wife despite advice from the health care professionals to "let him go". The man's Advanced Directive appointed her as his decision-maker should he ever become incapacitated.

StarTribune Article
Another StarTribune Article

I've read all the comments from readers, and the overwhelming majority are screaming for this man's death due to the COST of prolonging care. But then there are also shouts of Obamacare, Death Squads, taxpayer dollars, accusations that the wife profits financially, that she would have pulled the plug long ago if it was her own money, ad nauseum.

This comment was my favorite, and is what I feel as well:

"I am shocked at the overwhelming opinion here that the doctors have a right to override a health care directive signed by the patient. It is true that the wife may be wasting taxpayer money, prolonging the inevitable, and refusing to listen to the opinions of medical professionals. It appears society has reached the point where death panels are a reality. Never mind what the patient wants or what family members want. If the taxpayers are paying for it, then we the people get to decide if you live or die.
posted by Brad57"

Here is the only pertinent fact, in my humble opinion:
This man WROTE DOWN what he wanted done if he couldn't decide for himself. He named his wife as his decision-maker. He trusted her to know what he would want. Now if his six sons, or the doctors, or ANYONE ELSE feel she's incapable of making these decisions, there's a procedure through the courts for replacing her, which is apparently what's next. But until that happens, it's nobody's business except hers.

One blogger (an ER physician who writes "funny stories" about the ER) actually put into print the not-to-be-named concept of Slow or One-Fingered Code. (A "code" is CPR.) So now you know: actually, we've always had Death Squads. ER Stories

No, I would probably not be prolonging his life if I were in her place. But I'm not. I wasn't married to him, I never had the conversations with him that led to him assigning her his health care decision-maker.

If you're reading this, and now have a niggling worry that this could happen to you, good. You SAY you don't want to ever be "hooked up to machines". Well, there are machines, and there are machines. Dialysis is a machine. Did you just mean ventilator? Better specify! (Put simply, dialysis does for bad kidneys what insulin shots do for a bad pancreas.) Wording like "DO EVERYTHING as long as there's a chance" is clearly not specific enough.

Get an Advanced Care Directive in place before you need one. Get it notarized. Give copies to your lawyer, your children, and your primary physician. Heck, ALL your physicians. It just may protect you, unlike this poor man. The court will likely decide that the spouse is incompetent, and the doctors will get to pull the plugs. Since none of us can foresee exactly what the future holds, maybe this is what he would have wanted. Better have that "What IF...?" conversation with your loved ones now.

My Dad

2011-01-14T13:54:00.005-07:00

No secret to those who know me well, I've idolized my father from the get-go. His death in 2000 ripped my universe apart, and 10 years later I now realize I won't ever recover completely. I'm not sure if my progeny know his story enough to pass on to their progeny, so here it is in print.

Jim Frame

Separated at birth?

His parents were James and Edith. Edith Mary Jenkins was a Philadelphia society debutante. She met "unsuitable" James Frame, a funny and vibrant shoe salesman with Triangle Shoes, but was ostracized by her family when she married him. Their only child was my dad, Jimmy, born April13, 1926 in Miner's Mills, PA. Their sun rose and set on their son. Little Jimmy led a sheltered, doting existence, and wasn't allowed to get dirty. Tons of photographs depict a chubby, soft, near-sighted, smiling boy in knickers. The three of them specialized in comedy, and witty puns were common and expected.

Jimmy at 8

Jimmy at 10

Jimmy, Edith, James. High School.

Jimmy's passion was model airplanes, the big ones with engines. When he was drafted into the Army Air Corps after high school graduation in 1944, his parents were crushed. Luckily for them, Jim's eyesight was too poor to be a pilot: he became a radio operator. One night during Radio School in Sioux Falls, SD, he and a buddy went to the roller rink, where Jimmy (who couldn't skate, and was in fact athletically-impaired in all sports) ran into and knocked over a very pretty girl, Mary Brown. He loved her at that moment and forever. Turns out his buddy had once dated her, and Jimmy gladly paid him $5 for her phone number.

Shipping Out

Jimmy the Radioman

Mary Brown at 21. Jimmy fell hard!

Mary only knew dull farm boys until then, and this laughing, gentle boy from "the far east" stole her heart. She was extremely intelligent, and knew a good thing when she saw it.

Jimmy's parents traveled by train to Sioux Falls to meet Mary's family, where Edith whispered to Jimmy that there was something very wrong with them. (Edith's bon-mots have survived: she told her son "There's a fly in their ointment.") Blanche-the-mother (Blanche Delora Matthisen, one of 8 children) was self-effacing with a nervous giggle, and looked to be tired by life. Felix-the-father (one of 9 children) was silent and negative. And Evelyn-the-younger-sister was possibly slightly retarded in Edith's eyes. Even if they'd been Kennedys, she still would have hated anyone that stole her boy from her, but this was too much. Jimmy rejected her advice, and he and Mary became engaged.

I have all the letters that passed back and forth between Jimmy and Edith during his war service in Turkey, Northern Africa, Afghanistan, and Iran. He is quick to reassure his mom that he's safe, healthy, well-fed, happy, and looking forward to a life with Mary that does NOT exclude his parents. Edith is skeptical., but seems unwilling to crush his optimism.

Edith and James, much later!

After Jimmy was discharged, he and Mary married and moved into the upstairs apartment of Edith and James' house in Kingston, PA. Jimmy became a shoe salesman, but Mary pined for her home and huge extended family in Sioux Falls. And since Edith was unable to avoid criticizing Mary, love and duty prevailed: Jimmy managed to obtain a job transfer to Sioux Falls. Edith never forgave Mary.

Jim and Mary didn't stay in Sioux Falls very long, because Kinney Shoes transferred it's managers frequently. Within the next 6 years, Jim was sent to Davenport IA, Omaha NE, Fremont NE, and eventually back to Omaha with 2 babies. We stayed there 8 years.

Me, Dad, and Edie

Four Frames

This was a newspaper photo in Davenport, "Welcome Newcomers"

At first there was a large, shabby, rental house at 11th and Castellar. It's gone, now. Kitty-corner from us was the Calabro family, a boisterous Italian-American family, and two of their kids were the same ages as us (Donny and Cathy). They went to the Catholic school, but we were inseparable nevertheless.

My brother Thom, me, Donny, Tom, and Cathy Calabro

Mom worked the counter and did the books for the Kinney store downtown, so we had babysitters: Karen and Anita Trotter. They were very big girls, and their mom made homemade bread every day: without a bread machine. Covered with bacon gravy, it was to die for. I believe Thom and I lived on that, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, plus whatever great Italian food the Calabros fed us. Mom's cooking was pitiful.

When I started kindergarten at Bancroft Elementary, we met The Murphys: two girls our age, Linda and Kitzie, plus two older brothers Harold and Mike. Their parents became our parents' best friends. Bernie Murphy was an amazing cook. She made fried tacos every Saturday. Kitzie became my best friend for life, after we fought over a cubby the first day of school.

Jim and Harold Murphy, after a big dinner.

Harold, Bernie, Mom, Dad

My parents had a house built and we moved when I was in the 4th grade to 2811 S. 4th. St. It was closer to the Murphys, and the bathroom was entirely lavender, Dad's favorite color. Toilet, too. The basement was flamingo pink. It was on a steep, curving hill and made for endless enjoyment with sledding and water balloon races: parked cars were natural hazards.We walked a mile to school, and home daily for lunch unless the weather was too bad. All our friends' parents watched out for all the kids, we couldn't make a move that didn't get home before we did.

Repainting-the-house trip in early 1970s. That's Dad's only car he ever bought new: 1971 Chevy Vega.

Our social contacts were primarily the Calabro kids, Murphy family, Mom's parents and sister's family in Sioux Falls, school events (Dad was the president of the PTA), and the Kinney manager Jim Lause's family.They had three kids: John was a couple of years older, Reta was a year younger, and Tim a couple of years younger. Every Friday night we all went to Joe Tess's Fish Place for fried carp. It's still there. Ribs or tails, and you get rye bread and pickles with it.

Fried Carp at Joe Tess's

Idyllic childhood, our parents gave us that. It all changed in 1964 when my maternal grandfather began sexually molesting me. He said if I told, my parents would hate me, so I didn't tell. We spent maybe a weekend there every month, plus school vacations and holidays. I'm certain now that my mother knew, and I'm also certain she was also molested and STILL left me with him. It continued until I was 17, and I was in complete denial the entire time. He died when I was 23, coincidently the night my son was born, and I then told my dad all about it. He held me and he cried, sobbing-shuddering-grief. He agreed it would serve no purpose to tell my mom, that she probably was a victim, and he thought it explained a lot.

Also that year (1964), Jim Lause was transferred to Minneapolis, and he arranged for my dad to transfer, too. There must have been fights between my parents over it, but I don't remember them. Mom had been so happy in Omaha, but never was again. She spent the rest of her life punishing Dad for moving her away from all she loved, and she developed an open preference for Thom and scathing condemnation for me. I have a couple of theories on this, most likely was my adoration for my dad, whom she now despised and treated badly. She became viciously critical of my words and movements, blistering with searing rebuke. Like Sade: "When people are screaming, I know they're paying attention to me."

My brother and I adapted quickly to Minnesota, especially Thom-the-football-star. I made several new friends in sixth grade, however, the school "accelerated" them all (combined 7th and 8th grades in one year) and my mom refused permission for me to go with them because she didn't want me in the same grade as her golden boy. So I had to make new friends. AND, Mom got a job in the English Department at the same school. That sucked! One weird thing was my brother soon adopted Mom's hatred of me. It was much darker than sibling rivalry, and I remember studying my friends' relationships with their siblings and wondering which was supposed to be "normal". Mom assured me OURS was.

Somewhere in this time period is when I acknowledged that God was a myth. I've been an atheist since, trying to live honorably with no fear of hell, or hope of heaven. I already knew what hell was.

High school was fun. I was "smart" (labels always) plus my brother was so popular that it was hard for me to fly completely under the radar. I had a steady boyfriend (friend of my brother, he was still useful to me for that!), always had after-school, weekend, and summer jobs, and my dad's love and support for me sort of made up for Thom and Mom. My Dad's general affect toward me was one of delighted approval and deep affection. (Mom called me a whore after my first date.) Plus I liked Thom's girlfriend Sue, who was nice to me, and ended up being the mother of my niece and nephews.

Dad was now a traveling "Window Trimmer" for Kinney's, which he loved. He was forever a "putzing" type, perfectionism the result when one's entire ethos is "doing the right thing". Putzing in the garage (where after his passing, we found stashes of Scotch, cigars, and salted peanuts), putzing in the kitchen, putzing in the yard. He loved sitting in a lawn chair at dusk, with a highball, watching cars go by. "Wonder what the rich people are doing right now?" He always took the road less traveled. "Wonder where that goes?" is in my heart.

(Segue 10 years, another story to be told later. I now am married-with-child, and a dialysis RN.)

The estrangement between my mother and I became official when I divorced my first husband and moved in with my current husband. She could not accept the divorce, refused to even meet Ron, and my parents were not present at our wedding. Partly to distance myself and my son Jon from that toxic situation, we moved to San Diego in 1982. And so began 14 years of meeting my parents in motels and restaurants so Mom could see her grandson without my husband present, and I could see my beloved Dad. Dad didn't support my mother's dictates, and a therapist once pointed out to me that he didn't forbid them either. But as I told the therapist, no one on earth would ever again tell my mother what to do, especially Dad. Dad did get to know Ron, and continued always to ensure I knew he loved me. But I lost forever all those years with my Dad, missed him achingly, and can never get it back.

Dad, Jon, Mom at Coronado Beach

(Segue another 12 years, another story to be told later. I'm now a traveling dialysis nurse educator, a recovering alcoholic, and my son survived childhood.)

In 1994, we lived in a condo we'd bought in Lakeside, outside San Diego. Jon worked summers at Grand Tetons National Park (his field of study was sort of Political Anthropology) and we'd go visit him there. In 1996, we accidentally ran into my parents there in the park, having failed to coordinate our visits properly. Mom airily suggested we all have lunch together, and Voila! The estrangement was over. Ron graciously never mentioned to her the 14 years of her boycotting our marriage.

In 1997, my Dad was recuperating from a heart attack and valve failure, and mom was unable to cope with it. In retrospect, I think this was the onset of her dementia. I got my company to transfer me home to Minnesota, and we rented a lake home in rural Buffalo, MN, only 30 minutes from them. Little did I suspect I only had a few years left with my Dad. They were good years, though.

After valve replacement

In 2000, I lost 2/3 of my family: both my dad and my brother died from cancer, and they both went fairly quickly, Thom first from chemo complications and Dad 3 months later after radiation therapy at The Mayo failed. As sick as Dad was, losing Thom took a lot of the fight out of him. Dad had unconditional love, much pride, and respect for his son, and his grief was terrible to witness. Mom was utterly devastated, and her dementia began accelerating then. (She said to me at Thom's funeral "Why couldn't it have been you instead of him?")

Dad was otherwise outwardly confident and cheerful throughout his ordeal. He had just begun chemo (his last hope, per the oncologists) when he began bleeding. They talked frankly to us all, and I'll never forget the moment and his face when Dad accepted he wasn't going to beat it. He withdrew from us gently, turned inward, and died in my arms 5 days later.

Dad and Linda

That was one of the last photos of my dad, on tube feedings. There's a later one, in a wheelchair at the Minnesota State Fair, but he's absolutely skeletal. I want to remember him "squashy".

During the interval after Thom died and before Dad died, Dad was anxious to assure my Mom's future needs. He asked me to avoid ever placing her in a home, IF I COULD HELP IT (a loophole!) Turns out I couldn't help it: Mom's Alzheimer's was the worst kind, and I had no background that commanded respect or duty toward her.

I would have gone to the moon for my Dad, though.

Relics and treasures in my possession (for my progeny) include Dad's letters and military memorabilia, Grandma Edie's beaded evening bag she carried at her coming-out ball, and every pair of round steel-rimmed eyeglasses my Dad wore as a child. Edie saved them all. I even have the pottery jug he used to pour his milk on his cereal every morning, and the china teaspoon caddy with sterling teaspoons.

Jim never met his great-grandchildren, but Dylan James DeMent is named for him, and to me, Nora often looks like him (only pretty!).

Introducing Dylan James

Miss Nora

I quote him daily, if sometimes only to myself. For some odd reason, I believe he became a butterfly, and whenever I see one, I feel all warm and happy.

La Turista

2011-01-11T06:44:00.005-07:00

So it finally happened. I have encountered Montezuma's Revenge.


Montezuma

Not just for Mexico anymore, other names for it include:

Gringo Gallup

Aztec Two-step

Delhi Belly

Rangoon Runs

Mummy's Tummy

Thai-dal Wave

Corre-Corre (means run run)

I've blogged before about the wonderful food here, how I've braved eating from street carts and dodgy "restaurants" because it smells SO good, never gotten sick, blahblah. I haven't even been doing any of that. Lately. Only the tried-and-true dining places, plus my own cooking (which may be implicated, see later in post...) I've never worried about the ice they put in drinks, just assumed it was purchased ice from "clean" water. Maybe not...

No, I didn't eat from the Sushi and More cart.

I'm into day three of (stop reading here if you're a pansy) watery explosive bowel movements, maybe 6 or 8 daily. Zero appetite, nausea, general abdominal aching, plus the OMG sharp cramping preceeding a BM, fever, and shaking chills. No fun whatsoever, in fact was uncomfortable enough to Google it this morning. (Yes, I'm a nurse, but I just know kidneys.)

"Most cases are mild and do not require either antibiotics or antimotility drugs".

Good to hear, and coincides with my own (non-traditional-for-a-nurse) belief in letting whatever needs out COME OUT.

"If diarrhea becomes severe (typically defined as three or more loose stools in a 24-hour period) — or if diarrhea is bloody, or fever occurs with shaking chills, or abdominal pain becomes marked, or diarrhea persists for more than 72 hours — medical treatment should be sought."

OK, tomorrow is 72 hours, if I'm not better, I'll go to the clinic.

"With serious cases of cholera, there is a rapid onset of symptoms, which include weakness, malaise (feeling rotten), and torrents of watery diarrhea with flecks of mucus (called "rice water" stools)."

Whoa! Cholera? This actually forced me to examine the bowl for "rice water". I don't even know what that looks like. Whenever I make rice, there's no water left when it's done. I didn't see anything that looked like rice. A couple of risk factors for cholera are O positive blood type and immunosuppression. I'm an O and I take antivirals and steroids for my Ramsay-Hunt Syndrome.

I'm hydrating plenty, not worried there. But am pretty concerned as to how I got it, when nobody else is sick. Hubby's been "malaise-like" for several days, but he ALWAYS has loose BMs. Besides, he'd be utterly prostrate with this, including snivelling and moaning. You know how men are.

I did eat clams I dug, but that was over a week ago. Says it can come from undercooked shellfish, which steamed clams are. They're only steamed long enough for them to open, otherwise they get tough and rubbery.

Our water here isn't filtered whatsoever, and I've seen "bug parts" in it, which is concerning. We don't drink it, cook with it, or make ice with it, but we do wash dishes in it. However, the hot water is REALLY hot, so I don't think that's it. Besides, everyone else gets this same water here...


All ingested water comes from here.

We do use the kitchen sink for handwashing and mouth care, as there is no sink in the bathroom. This has always bothered me. But again, the hot water should mitigate...

New bathroom sink, not installed yet.

I do wash all the fruits, veggies, and eggs before they get put away, but I've never used that anti-microbial wash they sell for that purpose.

So no real insight here re: how I acquired this, but we will be adding a bathroom sink shortly. And I intend to go buy that veggie-wash-stuff, just as soon as I can stay away from the bathroom long enough to drive to the village.

UPDATE: Jan.15, 2011
On Jan. 13, I was given Treda, tablets of what sounds like Neomycin (yeah, like the ointment for owies) plus Kao-Pectate. Only one episode of La Turista on the 14th, and "normal" since. Folks here swear by it.

How Does A Minnesotan End Up A Gringa Vieja?

2011-01-04T16:03:00.005-07:00

I lived most of my life in Minnesota, but spent enough time elsewhere (San Diego) to know there's life outside of down-filled parkas and frozen nose hairs.

Minnesota Barbeque in the snow. It got up to 45 that day...

Here's how I became a Gringa Vieja (non-Mexican old woman):

I was able to retire early because the VA finally agreed my husband really was totally screwed up from Viet Nam and decided to decently compensate him.
Around that time, my dad and brother both passed away from cancer, way before they were done living the good life, and then my mom got dementia. Life was looking dismal.
We decided to sell everything and become fulltime RVers, to see the beautiful and WARM parts of the US while we still could. Face it, Minnesota's weather sucks.
And then we discovered Mexico...

We're not even very far into Mexico, only 235 miles from the Arizona border. Some refer to it as Mexico-Lite, but it's plenty Mexican for me. If you can't buy real Cheetos or flush the TP, it's Mexico.

Our RV Resort membership in the US included a resort near the tiny fishing village of Kino Bay ("a drinking village with a fishing problem") on the Sea of Cortez. Google Map WAY off the beaten path (and I use the term beaten extremely literally) and all white people, mostly from Canada and Colorado. Gated. Gorgeous, but somewhat quirky...
WHR Kino Bay
This RV resort does not have water (it's trucked in) or sewers (they come pump your tanks), so one learns to conserve water and deposit TP in a wastebasket. Mexican TP does not dissolve. Ever. We buy drinking water, but use the trucked-in water for everything else and nobody's died from it yet. Martin drives his fresh vegetable truck out weekly. He often brings fresh seafood, too.

Veggie Day

The beaches are deserted and gorgeous with great fishing, clamming, and beachcombing. Potlucks and typical lame RV Resort planned activities galore. We drive to the village 2 or 3 times weekly for provisions (read: beer) or to eat out, and to The City (Hermosillo) monthly for a larger stock-up. Hermo has Costco, Sam's Club, Home Depot, and Applebees. Plus there's a town, Miguel Aleman, between Kino and Hermo with most everything you'd need anyway. I found you can definitely live forever and well on only fresh produce, seafood, beer, and sunshine.

Gringas Who Lunch

It was idyllic, but we wanted more. We wanted to stay forever, but NOT at an RV park. So we bought a tiny house with RV pad just up the hill from the park. We're 1.5 miles from the water's edge.

Rooftop Palapa View

Our casita is orange and purple and made of straw bales. Seriously, a toddler with a bread knife could break in easily. But it has roll-down locking steel window and door covers, called Cortinas, that lend an aura of security. Plus all of our neighbors have large barking dogs that deter all except my mean cat, Rocky. They won't go near him.

There are no fears of the Mexican Cartel Wars out here, but there have been isolated episodes of thefts in the neighborhood, probably by the very poor and indigent. We are near the primitive Seri Indian village, and Kino Bay itself has areas of heart-rending poverty. There's a large barrio outside Old Kino where a dwelling might have a towel for one wall, cardboard for another, corrugated tin and plywood here and there. No utilities, no windows.


Somebody actually lives here.

And yes, I felt like The Ugly American driving around the barrio getting that photo.

There are a couple of down sides. We've learned to not expect to find all our favorite American products in their little stores. They don't have Mountain Dew, for instance. Thick, marbled steaks are hard to find, but then I've not once seen a fat steer. I had to learn to make bread because their bread is too sweet. There are starving street dogs. Mordita happens (crooked "cops" that stop gringos and expect a bribe), but we remain smiling-but-dumb, and keep our truck dirty to discourage attention. Fuel is cheaper and better quality, but food (except produce) costs more. The hot dogs are inedible, but the shrimp is amazing.

The locals need and appreciate our commerce, and are friendly and helpful. Why, one guy even hollered at me today "Hey! I wash trucks!" There's even movie theaters in Hermo that run English versions once a week, afternoons. DirecTV and Hughes Net by satellite with east and west coast feeds (plus TiVo) ensure I get all the news that's fit to print. And lots that isn't.

So here's where things lie today:

We're developing good friendships here, both gringos and locals.
We've adapted our casita for fulltime, self-contained living, and will only go NOB when it's too hot to be here (August, September)
While we do NOT miss Minnesota or its weather whatsoever, we miss the kids and grandkids in Minnesota deeply and daily, but with IM and SKYPE, it's almost mitigated.
We're involved in "good works" projects in the village that softens our guilt over their living conditions.
We're well-fed and hydrated, ambulating without assistance, and feel lucky to wake up here.
I haven't frozen my nose hairs in 6 years.

Seashell Collector

My Artistic Side

2010-12-28T06:14:00.021-07:00

My other hobby (besides crocheting and felting) is digital photo enhancement. Last week, my neighbor liked my blog-header-photo I'd done of our casita, and wanted me to do one of her house.

She also said she didn't have a decent (flattering) photograph of herself. So I Warholed her. (Is Warhol a verb?)

I sometimes enhance the grandbabies' photos, eliminating cluttered backgrounds or chopped off heads:

Here are some more: the front yard

My son's wedding dance:

The Weenie Roast Picture

Yes, I can remove that second chin, bulging tummy, wrinkles and zits, and fix hairdos. Few photographs are perfect, but most have something in them worth saving.

Want me to do one for you?

2010 Holiday Week

2010-12-27T07:33:00.004-07:00

First, last night's sunset:

And my new office chair. Eddie's chair is now in Ron's Man Cave.

It's been a crowded-but-fun-week here in our little retirement enclave, starting with the wrapping of presents and ending with The Big Dinner.

Gift-Wrapping Factory

All those quilts we made? Gifted to the poor farming families way out in the boonies, along with toys and candy, toiletry packages, and Santa's visit. A long caravan of gringos in loaded trucks bounced and careened throughout the "roads" south and west of Miguel Aleman, stopping at pre-determined farming communities. (I rode in the Candy Truck with Santa, we ate Tootsie Rolls the whole way...) There, the trucks and Santa were mobbed by the poorest of the poor. No fat children were seen. It felt good-but-not-enough, if you know what I mean. At one point, I thought we should have maybe brought turkeys instead.

At the pig farm

Delfie with Santa

Loading up the kids

Mobbing Jan's truck

Me and Eddie's bride Ann Jane with Santa's new friend

Happy Mamacita

Are we done yet?

Marion tripped and fell!

Christmas Eve was social hour and gifts at the RV Park. Each person brings a $10 wrapped gift, then when your card is drawn, you go choose and open one OR steal someone else's. Only one theft per item. We scored a 5 liter jug of Mezlalito (cheap rotgut tequila-like liquor) and a set of crystal snowflake candle holders. None of my photos were in focus, due to the egg nog effect. Our good friends Jose and Delfie from the village spent Christmas Eve night in our RV so they wouldn't have to drive That Road after dark. Ron fell down once or twice, didn't get hurt. Just a scratch. SO much fun!

Blurry, but Ron, Betty, John, Jack, Jose, and Delfie.

And then Christmas Day dinner was terrific. Yes, gravy was there, plentiful, and good. I brought Grandma Edie's Beets N Pineapple and have a lot left over... Plus a loaf of homemade bread.


Happily stuffing in stuffing!


John and Santa KLAUS!

And yesterday, my wonderful husband and neighbor John harvested and transplanted a huge Ocotillo into my front yard. It's gorgeous!

How Dare You Presume I'm Christian?

2010-12-26T07:56:00.002-07:00

I have once again been forwarded that email In Defense of Prayer (falsely) attributed to Andy Rooney. Here's the Snopes article:

http://www.snopes.com/politics/soapbox/prayer.asp

Yes, I am an atheist. Not many people know this about me, because I grow weary of their need to proselytize. The word ATHEIST seems to drum up an image of a card-carrying, angry, church-hating harridan. I simply do not believe in the concept of God. I truly do not care who does believe in God. And I will defend to my death anyone's right to believe in God, Buddha, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, or the Tooth Fairy, as long as that person does not condemn my right to not believe. I believe Christians refer to this as their Golden Rule. Not to mention the law and Constitution are on my side.

If I were a Christian, though, I don't think you'd find me shouting "Merry Christmas" to strangers, simply because I couldn't be certain they were fellow Christians. Yes, in the USA, odds are they're maybe Christian, depending on where you are.

I also don't care if you all want to pray before I eat my meal, or watch a football game, and I'll sit quietly while you do. Are you offended that I'm not praying, too? Your faces tell me YES. (My heart wonders how Christian is THAT?) I am curious though, why y'all need to pray TOGETHER. Are the results numbers-based? The more or louder you pray, the better the chances of being heard? Whatever, doesn't bother me very much.

I do NOT intend to financially support your religious causes, however, and again, the law's on my side. Why do YOU believe that even $1 of my earned income should go to support private religion-based schools? Yes, I do want my grandchildren to hear about all the religions of the world, but it's called History class or Social Studies. Not Religious catechism. I want them to know there are people out there who truly think there's no scientific evidence supporting the theory of evolution. I've even known people who think only black people descended from the apes. Forewarned is forearmed. Tolerance is everything.

But the part of that email that always rankles most is the MAJORITY RULES part. The Majority isn't necessarily right, and is sometimes proven later to be wrong (Slavery and Holocaust come to mind). You want the laws changed to suit your religion, there's a mechanism in place for that. It's called VOTING. I do it a lot, and so far it's working out for me. I even get paid extra if I work on Christmas and Easter. Pretty cool.

Casita Progress Versus THE RULE

2010-12-18T11:17:00.001-07:00

There's an unwritten rule in Mexico retirement communities, so I'm probably violating "the code" by exposing it. But it helps to explain the mind-set here, the laissez-faire:

One Task Per Day MAXIMUM.

That's it. Very simply, we refuse to overdo or burden ourselves with honey-do lists. There can be a laundry day, but never the same day as, say, grocery day or pour-the-cement-slab day. So progress on our casita renovations is slow, however sure. However, this slow pace helps ensure the prioritizing is accurate, allowing extra time for certainty.

We've been here 2 months, and here's what we've accomplished:
1. The hot water heater is outside on a cement slab.
2. Hot water comes out the kitchen faucet.

That's all. Yes, I know, I said one task per DAY, not per month, but that's in addition to laundry, groceries, dish-washing, meal prep, vacuuming, etc. Plus one must reserve time daily to sit around and appreciate where we are.

You must understand, your average Blog Reader truly takes hot-water-from-the-faucet for granted. To go from Boiling A Kettle (pre hot water heater) to Filling A Bucket (water heater in, but only plumbed to the shower) to suddenly, FINALLY, able to turn that handle and have hot water gush out? It's HUGE! We've also purchased the porcelain pedestal for the bathroom sink, and are kept very busy planning exactly where and how to install that. Takes planning. Then will come patching all the holes left by former plumbing sites, rerouting where the satellite cords enter, and eventually buying a bed and moving all the furniture. Sounds like 3 more months' work, but it is what it is. Plans aren't worth the paper they're written on, because something better might come along.

Take yesterday, for example. Yesterday was supposed to be baking day (for me) and laundry day (for Ron: he does that while sitting around in his man-cave.) Just prior to starting my baking, Ron decided to take the trash down to the trash trailer at the RV park. I thought WTF, I'll go along, and sign up for the Christmas Dinner in the office there. Well, that's way too close to the beach to NOT go there, so we did. I sauntered along, looking for shells, while he drove on down the beach.

I looked up once and he was WAY down there, struggling with something huge next to the truck. I was just hoping it wasn't a big smelly porpoise carcass: it's considered a score to have a giant skeleton in your yard. When I got there, it was just a dead elephant tree, all white and gnarly. With some effort, we got it into the truck bed and brought it up the hill.

Now it's in our yard, looks pretty cool:

No baking got done, no laundry got done. That would have violated The Rule, and left little time to sit around drinking beer and looking at our view. Besides, friends showed up. (It's very rude to work when socializing is imminent.) My friend Karen helped me appreciate my yard for an hour or two, with beverages, while Jack asked Ron to go help him with his new 12-pack.

And so it goes.

Time In A Bottle

2010-12-18T07:36:00.000-07:00

June 1980. Newly separated from my husband, I had just moved into a tiny walk-up apartment in the gay district of Minneapolis. Quite naive, I didn't even know it was a gay district. Over 2 weeks, knowledge dawned. But there was this man across the street...

Tall, slim, resembled a young Clint Eastwood, usually alone. I bemoaned the idea he might be gay, living there. Our balconies were across from each other, and after eyeing each other those two weeks, I'd almost decided to check it out. But then one evening, I watched as he left his balcony and came back out onto the street below. He was carrying something glass. As he crossed the street, he looked up at me, grinned, and then disappeared under my balcony. A minute later, there was a knock on my door. Secured entrance my ass! I opened the door to this very handsome man holding most of a jug of wine, and he asked if I wanted to share it with him. I let him in. Turned out he wasn't gay, and he actually never left...

We've been married almost 29 years. And I kept that bottle. Almaden Mountain White Chablis.

My friend Karen makes and sells these GORGEOUS beaded wine bottle covers and stoppers ( I call them dresses and hats), and I now own 2 sets. "The Bottle" is now wearing a dress and hat befitting it's status.

I just LOVE those quirky stoppers!

Stuff I wonder about

2010-12-13T08:13:00.000-07:00

Why do only CATS purr? Why don't dogs purr?
Chickens and eggs. How long does it take for an egg to form? If a chicken lays one every day, and you were to cut her open, would she be full of eggs in various stages of development?
How do spiders not get caught in their own webs?
How nutritious is hay anyway? How can animals as big as cows get that big just eating hay?

Birthday Blog

2010-12-13T06:03:00.003-07:00

Tomorrow I'll be 58, but most days I look 68, feel 88, and act 8. I had a Ramsay-Hunt relapse this weekend and started the steroids and anti-viral regimen. Wow, those steroids create a euphoria like no other! I actually said to Ron once "I AM SO HAPPY!!!" Imagine that, this crabby, negative shrew saying that.

My girlfriends took me to the village Sunday for a Birthday Breakfast at Casa Blanca. Yes, it's a white house, gorgeous, new, great ambiance and food. Here we are:

I had to crop the shit out of it because my bellybutton was exposed by raising my arms.

That afternoon, I hung my new lighted grapes and lighted bone wreath. They're amazing:

I finished hanging them by 2 PM and then was like a 4 year old waiting for Santa: I wanted the sun to go down NOW so I could see the effect.

The wreath is a re-make from last year. It needed a new frame to keep it round (those bones and shells are heavy), hence the turquoise Hula Hoop. It's wrapped with an old Seri fiber rope, shells and bones tied on, and 3 coyote skulls hung from the bow. Then I added the lights. It's spectacular, if I do say so myself. There's a Stingray "face" with lights coming out it's eyes!

One last shot from the porch looking out to the sea, grape lights on top. That's our truck in the front yard. Ron backed it in there to unload driftwood for our planned campfire tomorrow night, and left the lights on all day. Dead battery, now sitting on the battery charger...

So I've invited the whole park to my Birthday Bonfire tomorrow night, and asked them to bring an Hors D'Oeuvre. There may be drinking...

Lazy Days in Paradise

2010-11-29T06:29:00.001-07:00

Thanksgiving was OK this year, much improved from last year. Went to the RV park for dinner, where they made 3 turkeys, mashed potatoes, gravy, and stuffing. We brought side dishes and desserts. (Ours was Freeda's Cranberry Salad, much requested and a favorite.) It wouldn't unmold, though, ? Mexican Jello? No matter, scooped out fine.Not many RVers here yet, I think we were only 25 or so. Then Sunday we went down again for lunch: turkey soup and sandwiches. REALLY good!

Have been extra lazy, lots of internet-browsing, movie-watching, and reading. The weather turned a bit cooler, only upper 70s in the sun, but feels much cooler in the shade and inside. Gets into the 50s overnight and I've used the furnace in the RV several nights.

Had fun watching the mourning doves mob my birdbath. There were so many!

Look in the tree on the left, plus the group on the ground! They emptied the birdbath in 20 minutes.

I put up and decorated our little Christmas tree, and added a star(fish) as a topper.

And just a couple more random shots: our old guy Rocky (nicknamed Fat Bastard), and the sign I painted on an old board for the front door.

I have a project now that will put paid to my lazy spell. I was volunteered to make quilts for Christmas to give to the villagers. The quilt tops were made by an elderly woman in the states who is blind in one eye and can't see well out of the other one. The quilt tops are all different sizes and not quite square. My job is to cut out backs from fleece fabric, sew them together, topstitch the edges, and delegate the tying to the non-sewing-machine-owners out here. Turns out there are only 3 other women here that sew and have machines with them. And 30 quilts to do, and all before Christmas. And the fleece fabric for the backs won't be here til this weekend. Oy.

My other current project is re-doing my coyote skull/bones/shells wreath. It wouldn't hang right, too heavy for the wire I used as a base, so I found a Hula Hoop in a Segunda and am in the process of re-doing it. You would have laughed at me trying to pantomime Hula Hoop to them. Apparently that wiggle-movement is universal, they knew immediately what I meant and produced 3 hoops for my selection.

Today I'm cooking roast chicken/stuffing/potatoes/gravy for our friends Delfie and Jose, who were down with a bug for Thanksgiving. I couldn't find turkey for sale anywhere in the 2 villages, (yes, I had to pantomime TURKEY because I forgot the word. It cracked them up, all my gobbling...) but the chicken is almost good enough. That's when we get back from the village today: Ron has to go to the pharmacy to pick up his blood test results.

Tweaking!

2010-11-14T09:52:00.000-07:00

No, not that kind of tweaking! I'm nuts enough, don't require any drugs except gin...

We've been working toward making the casita self-contained. The old plan involved building a bedroom/bathroom addition, but that's been scrapped for now. We're too old, feeble, and lazy for a huge project like that, not to mention poor.

In order to be self-contained, we need:
1. Hot water to kitchen sink.
2. A bed
and it would be REALLY nice to have
3. A bathroom sink, and an electrical outlet in the bathroom so we don't have to perform our morning ablutions in the kitchen sink. That just feels wrong somehow. (I actually HAVE a sink, a gorgeous Mexican one, ready to install, but no real room for it in the existing bathroom unless we cede some of our beloved big shower space.) The large basket in the window well contains toothpaste/toiletries etc.

Now instead of an addition, all we need to build is a very small shed outside the bathroom to house the hot water heater. Then run the hot water around the casita to the kitchen. (Currently we take the spaghetti pot TO the hot water heater to fill for dishwashing. Not ideal, but it works. But I do NOT want to run outside to the hot water heater every time I need hot water.)

Once the hot water heater gets moved outside (in photo below, it's behind that screen), we'll stick a full-size bed in that corner. There are these cool hinged wood screens to section off that corner. The bed should JUST fit there, maybe even room to walk heel-toe on the side! Then those stacking baskets (there are 8 of them) will become our clothes storage bins, AKA DRESSER.

THEN, that large armoire thing will become the new entertainment center, but will back up to the baskets. This will allow the TV to swivel for bed-viewing as well. The futon can then be facing the entertainment center, with coffee table between, RV recliner against back wall, and kitchen table butted up to the back of the futon. I don't know what to do with that low chest thing the TV's on now. It only has the 2 narrow drawers, doesn't hold shit for as huge as it is.

The Santa chair is going. Way too big for the available space. Maybe back to Eddie, but Ron wants it for the garage. His Man-Cave. I'm looking hard in the segundas for a rolling office chair for that corner desk, but haven't found one with arms.

Puzzles remaining to be solved include:
1. Bathroom storage. Ron's meds alone fill our fifth wheel's medicine cabinet.
2. My shoes. Oy! It's pared way down from my pre-RV life, but there's still way too many for this space. Probably storage bins out in the garage...
3. Hanging clothes. Absolutely no room for those anywhere. Probably a garment rack out in the garage...
4. My craft storage. Again, will definitely require bins in the garage...

Good thing we bought that garage...

Odds and Ends

2010-11-12T16:30:00.001-07:00

CLICK ON PHOTOS TO ENLARGE!

Have settled into our lazy lives here sans problemas. Every day is a miracle: that we get to wake up here. This is a picture of the entrance road to Dos Palmas, our neighborhood "On The Hill", with the turquoise Sea of Cortez at the bottom. First picture is The Arch, with it's two palms:

Our gated community. Turned out that gate/arch was too small for the RV's that go there. They had to make another entrance next to it. Kinda funny.

Our too-hot weather is over. It's absolutely perfect now: 80 max at 4 PM, and a good breeze. Those horrid Jejenes (gnats, NoSeeUms) are gone. The bees are back, though, but so are the finches. They mob the birdbath every morning after I fill it, and within 1/2 hour, I have to refill it. Poor things, the only fresh water anywhere is when people water plants. Nobody has birdbaths.

Wednesday we spent a few hours on the beach doing my favorite thing: I walk along and pick through the trash washed up after the hurricanes, looking for treasure, while Ron follows me in the truck. He stops periodically to load firewood, and then catches up to me. I found another coyote skull, lots of cool shells (for wind chimes) and a tattered turquoise gill net. Don't know the final dispensation for that yet: maybe decor on the wall of the garage?

The pelicans were out in force, an apparent feeding frenzy of baitfish.

Yesterday I unpacked my year-old-but-brand-new sewing machine. I found a length of batiked fabric in a Segunda (thrift shop) that has coyotes, cacti, cowboy boots etc. all in my casita colors. I needed a moveable curtain: for the east window mornings and the west window evenings. It turned out great. It's on a tension rod for easy transfer. The views are too amazing to have curtains, but the sun through the windows makes computer/TV glares a pain. I'll bet that fabric was originally $50/yard. I paid about 40 cents. I just LOVE when that happens! Also found a Dunlop sheepskin golf club head cover that I used to make new insoles for my sheepskin slippers. Perfect!

Glare

No glare!

Also could not pass up the humongous DELICIOUS cantaloupe. Guy in a battered pickup at the gas station sold me this PLUS a medium watermelon for $2.

Had lunch at my favorite place: San Isidro's, great homemade (of course) food and clean bathrooms with TP and soap, a rarity. Wednesdays they make Albondigas soup (meatball). Sorry, left the camera in the truck.

And I already posted this on Facebook: Ron's rattler. He was walking over to the RV in the dark to come to bed, with the cat on his leash. Rocky suddenly balked, refused to continue. Then Ron heard the rattle. There was a coiled rattler on the RV pad, right in the pathway to the door. He might have walked right into it if not for Rocky. Ron dispatched it with his new Hula Hoe.

Today we had lunch in the village with Jose and Delfie, and Ron's playing poker here at 6 PM with the other 4 men that are in the park. I don't play because I'm too good. Not fair to them. I might work on my tan instead. Wild life we lead, yes, but we knew that going in. This is Jose and Delfie, the early years, followed by Delfie and I a few years ago, and Jose today at the restaurant. Check out that Fro, man! And the miniskirt and THE CAR!!!

I love the little birds at the restaurant today that clean up what we drop. These preferred our rice, but tortilla chips were OK, too. Here's Ron trying to get one to take a rice-topped tortilla chip from his fingers. The bird wasn't having it. But check out this incredible view! I had bacon wrapped shrimp stuffed with cream cheese. OMG! And 3, count'em, THREE gin and tonics.

Another perfect day in Paradise.

Settled in and exploring my estate!

2010-10-29T11:37:00.007-06:00

Seems to take longer every year to get settled in. The first time Ron backed the fifth wheel onto the pad catywampus, and we sorta liked it like that. Left it overnight, because it was getting dark anyway. More room when you step off the steps, instead of having to be careful you don't fall off the pad. But it turned out we'd need about 6 sewer hoses to reach the septic, and we only had one. So the next morning we moved it.

Helps tons to have the garage now. That sucker's getting full!

There's only one rig down in the park so far, the Beckers. And currently only us, Eileen, and Jack up here on the hill. So it's very quiet, peaceful, and perfect weather.

However. I've been attacked by No-See-Ums. According to my research, this species is locally called Jejenes, nearly invisible to the naked eye, tiny pricking feeling when they bite, but then OMG! About 1/4 of victims are allergic to them: gigantic hugely itching welts. I have about 75. The nasty little buggers go right through the screens, of course, so I also got bitten in bed at night. I was warned about them, so we loaded up at Cabelas with 100% DEET. They are not even slightly inconvenienced by it. They may even prefer it. Supposedly, when it's windy or cooler, they'll go away.

In the meantime, I'm wearing long pants, long sleeves and socks and shoes. This causes sweating, so am showering 3 times a day. Taking steroids: oral Prednisone, slathering on hydrocortisone cream, and during the hotter parts of the day, hiding in the fifth wheel with the windows closed tightly and the AC on. It's a total bummer. Can't go outside. Ron has about 950 bites because he's outside in only shorts all day, but they stay tiny red dots on him, no swelling, no welts, no itching.

Those are not freckles...

Although early this morning it was really breezy, so I chanced it. Took an hour stroll around the desert, and took some photos.

We have volunteer Datura plants this year, very beautiful, very deadly. The flowers only open at night, so I don't have a decent photo of that, but they're white with lilac throats and big spiked pods. The flowers smell heavenly, but the rest of the plant stinks to high heaven.

My garden has suffered in my absence. Caterpillers attacked my poor baby limon tree, and it doesn't look good. They're huge, ugly, rear up with these orange horns, and hiss at you.

But the cacti that need nothing from anyone are doing fine. I transplanted these last year and they're still alive.

We went to dinner one night to the Beckers, lots of laughs and TERRIFIC chicken! She put a garlic/herb/cream cheese dip under the skin of the chicken. Poor Maggie also looks like she has chicken pox from the Jejenes. She and I sat there slathering stuff on our bites the whole time.

Here's a funny story. Now! It wasn't at the time...

Wednesday, my neighbor Eileen needed to drive to Hermosillo to get new tires and take her dog to the vet. Her spare tire was shredded, so she wanted me to follow her. I picked up my friend Delfie in Bahia de Kino on the way, for company and as a translator. It bears mentioning that Hermosillo is huge, sprawling, crowded and confusing, and the only places I know where to find are Costco, WalMart, Sam's Club, and Home Depot.

We all stopped for gas at the first town, Calle Doce, about 30 miles away, but they didn't have diesel for me, so Eileen said we'd go to the next one outside of Hermo. Eileen is, how should I say this, a fearless driver. Passing a lot, ignoring the speed limit, etc. I had trouble keeping her in sight, and worried I'd lose her in Hermosillo.

After about 20 more miles, she turned LEFT (remember this, important later) into the gas station, where we filled up and used the restroom. Drove over to where Eileen was still waiting for gas (legs practically crossed, as she wouldn't leave her vehicle to go pee). After admonishing her sternly to stop trying to lose us and that I was categorically unwilling to go over the speed limit, we said we'd pull around and park at the Oxxo (like a 7/11) to wait for her.

Within about a minute, we heard her shout, and saw her behind us waving "Let's Go!" It took us another minute to back out of our spot and pull back into the highway traffic.

Immediately, no Eileen. We could NOT believe it, RIGHT after asking her to keep us in sight, she was GONE. We had NO clue, really, how to find her in that city other than she'd mentioned tires at Costco, after the vet and picking up her friend Lisa.

Delfie and I proceeded to verbally castigate Eileen for the next 30 miles. We were blistering, unforgiving, and fluent. Right up until we saw a sign that said Bahia de Kino 36 KMs. I looked at the rear-view mirror, which read W. (For West.) We had turned the wrong way leaving the gas station, and were almost home.
Having completely spaced that we'd turned LEFT into the gas station, we just went the direction Eileen's car was facing when she hollered "Let's Go!"

So we turned around and drove hell-bent to Hermo. Passing and speeding, risking the Mordita "cop" by the airport. Arrived an hour and a half later than Eileen, who we DID find eventually, right where the Costco Tire guy told us he sent her. She was pretty frantic. Said she drove about 20 mph, stopped and waited for us, etc.

The worst part was how awful we felt for badmouthing Eileen during that 30 miles. The funniest part was Delfie and I not even recognizing Calle Doce when we drove back through it, plus Delfie kept remarking at all the "new shops" and "new landscaping" outside Hermo, which was actually Calle Doce, which I know intimately. I actually said once, "Oh yes, they're building TONS". Delfie hadn't been to Mexico in two years, and cannot be blamed whatsoever.

I'm trying to blame it on steroid toxicity...

Well, Crap...

2010-09-23T07:35:00.000-06:00

Thursday, September 23, 2010.
It's been 4 days since I ruined my thumb on the cat food can lid. Sutures are due to come out in 4 more days. I have nerve damage and zero gripping strength. The other 4 fingers are fine, and the thumb WANTS to help but fails, just sort of flops around. They covered my shifts at work, so I could just lay around and discover all the things I can't do without my left hand:

My normal hairdo is a mess of spiked clumps (because nobody can tell if it's intentional or not), requires a styling product named "Got2BGlued". Requires 2 hands to smear it in and spike it.

Crocheting is out.

Lighting the stove in our RV. Need two thumbs to work the lighter thing AND turn the stove knob.

Socks. Bra hooks. Flossing. Panties. Jeans! The button-zipper-thing. Opening potato chip bags. Opening anything.

Sorry. I've been wallowing in my own pity party for 4 days. Also, recently have had something go awry with my right eye, presumably optic nerve damage from my Ramsay-Hunt-Syndrome. Went to eye doctor and my new prescription glasses are due in Friday. Sure hope it helps, I have problems reading, watching TV, and driving, all of which necessitate closing my right eye. I now qualify for Handicap parking, though...

Look what I did!

2010-09-20T05:46:00.000-06:00

Sunday morning, 3 AM (I told you I wake up early) my cat began his usual crying to be fed. Even before I started the coffee, I got out a can of cat food and pulled the tab to open it. It was sort of stiff, and my arthritic hands fumbled it, and VOILA! The edge of the lid sliced into my left thumb down to the bone, a neat 3 corner flap.

So much blood! Squirting, running, dripping, and so painful! Took me about 40 minutes to stop the bleeding with firm pressure and 1/2 a roll of paper towels. With the cat yowling the whole time, because he knew there was a can of food up there and didn't get fed yet.

I wrapped it tightly and waited for Ron to wake up. Even the slightest movement of the thumb joint sent burning zingers of pain up my arm: I knew some nerves at least had gotten cut. It amazed me how helpless I was with only one hand. Takes a lot longer to make coffee one-handed, and when I had to pee, it took forever to get my PJ pants back up.

After Ron got up, we debated how best to get my thumb tended to on a Sunday. I thought I'd have to go to the VA in Minneapolis, as the local ER's and Urgent Cares always cost an arm and a leg. I found a phone number for my St. Cloud VA Nurse triage line, said it's available 24/7, so I called it. Had to hold 25 minutes, but she answered and said the VA Clinic in St. Cloud would see me as soon as I got there! I told her the web site says they're closed on Sunday. She replied, "Yes, we don't tell anyone they're there."

Didn't get home til 4 PM. 4 sutures, very deep, and it DID cut nerves, but the doctor who sewed it up said he thought the tendons were intact. Plus a tetanus shot, so the other arm hurts, too.

So the thumb doesn't work very well. Zero gripping strength, still very painful. I have to call work today and find out if I'm able to do the job, which requires a couple hundred handwashings and glove changes daily, not to mention being able to pull a cap off a needle, or insert a spike in a bag: things I have trouble with WITHOUT this owie. Oy.