Buried at Sea

This is just a journal. Nothing more or less. Just words typed on a digital page. Important only to me.

After the funeral fiascos over the past five years, and the refusal of my two oldest sisters to relinquish funeral plots, after their bold embezzlements from my mother’s inheritance, I decided to be buried at sea. The ocean has been my refuge, my entire life.

The other day I had one of the worst days. It involved lifeguards, called Nippers.

I lost it. I couldn’t believe these little boys, which they are in my eyes, the same as they see me as an old lady. And they even name themselves small boys. They removed me from the water. I was removed from the water, by little creatures that nipped and bit. I just cussed.

I wish the best for them. I hope they “save” many people. I hope they “sell” many surf instructions. That was their mantra as they were asking me to leave the water. “I am surf instructor.” Hearing that, over and over, just did something to me.

I feel buried at sea, before my death.

I apologized to them for my behavior, but the beligerent boss, (short, red head) turned his back on me.

He had a assumed I was a rich tourist. He erred in his eagerness to possibly rake in 65 an hour, which is what they charge as “instructors.”

You know what they say about assumptions.

I love the ocean. I will just go somewhere they’re not.

That was the mistake in the first place.

A synonym for nipper is nuisance.

God Bless us All

They actually named themselves after a Mongrel dog. A little nipping terrier dog. I call that fitting.

Follow Your Bliss

I have been following Auntie Bubba for years. From back in the days when there weren’t as many blogs. You wrote and posted. The title and image would come up on a page and you could browse and read. They hadn’t yet come up with the algorithms where they steer you like cattle through a gap. She was in Paris, when I first started reading. Then she went to San Francisco. Got a scooter. Went swimming down by the SF bridge. Moved out of an apartment. Got money. Went to school. She’s is or was a burning man participant. She figures out how to make things happen for her. She documents it.

I have sponsored people much younger than myself and I advise them to check out her blog. You can do. You can achieve. There are hiccups. Right now she is having surgeries and she gets in the pool. Something I advise people to do to heal. But will they do it. Hell no.

I too follow my bliss. And yes, it’s a lot of hard work. And a lot of letting go.

We only have one life – that I know of. I’ve been on one adventure after another. I am getting older and you would think it’s easier. But it’s not. It’s the same. You have a plan, obstacles, hurdles and dismounts. The idea is to enjoy the journey.

Writing helps.

I can look back and know where I’ve been. WOW….it’s a lot.

I am planning a trip to Bocas Del Torro and it feels daunting. Every thing use to be so dirt cheap. I don’t like spending money. Now there’s the COVID issue. Planes don’t have flights they use to have. You have to meet mandatory dead lines on tests.

WTF – you use to just use to have to consider marauders and murderers. Now that isn’t even an issue. I guess they are staying home to be COVID safe.

Now it’s high priced rooms and boat trips…..I can do this. – More will be revealed.

Thank you Auntie Bubba. You are an inspiration. Life is out there. Do it!

I am taking an ounce of my own advice.

Costa Rica!!!

An international tourist destination. The once, lonely planet spot on the map, that people were scared to go to, is now a place that people, will sell everything they own sight unseen and traipse down here. Convinced they have found paradise. The tropics.

I had the smallest snake in my shower with me. I killed it. Then I had a tiny scorpion on the shower curtain. I killed it. This was in the last week.

As I am beginning to write the monkeys have started to howl. I love that.

I have my Red Bull. Red Bull and monkeys make the world go around.

Continue reading Costa Rica!!!

Loud and Silent Reminders

That's what photos are ~

That is what photos are ~ I need them.

At 4:58, this morning, I heard the first sound of the Howler monkeys. They might not be the first awake, but they are the first heard. Soon there will be a rooster and then the dogs, followed by the birds. I enjoy the rhythms of nature. My travels are like folding the corner of a page, to mark my place. It reminds me where I’m at, on the verge of a new chapter, divided by days. And who knows how many days, that will be. In twenty four hour segments I go from quarter time, to a stacatto pace, then TSA arpeggios, back to quarter time. That’s my rhythm.

The pleasantries of Potrero are so unlike the foreign, 1/4 mile red lights and road rage of Amelia. The sounding off fiery chutes, burning pulp to make paper, is my morning sound on the island. A lone car will start the day; the same time as the monkey’s howl. It’s timing. I’m tracking time.

It seems, that when I built my home here, I manifested an old and deep desire, to be an aesthetic. A childhood idealistic dream of life. Possibly a throwback, to my days of parochial school. I took it all seriously. Or were my desires innate, laying dormant, deep within, some segment of my DNA. Regardless, of it’s seemingly unplanned existence, I marvel at my cavelike abode. Even when my drapes are drawn and you can view the garden, you see nothing but green leaves, flowers, and animals through my windows. The interior remains dark, because of the over hang, the thousands of plants in the yard, and the monstrous mango tree, that provides shade for all, not to mention 300 mangos, last year.

The insulated feeling, of the concrete walls, covered with paintings, photos, stickers, posters and shelves, inch to inch, filled with knick nacks, and dust: every item in it’s place. I like it. The restful, secure feeling I have in my carved out space is one thing, but nothing compares to opening the front door, in the morning, and feeling the fresh air of Costa Rica. The breath, inspires a visualization, of what lays a short distance, on the bay ~ clean water!

This is my sanctuary. This is a slice, of my life. However, I will be headed home. Home to an island that people call paradise.

To each his own said the old lady that kissed the cow.

The dirt roads here, in the neighborhood, are filled with them. So, there are plenty to choose from.

Cheers ~

Culture Crack Up/Comfort

I wake up. I thank God for a new day. I place my stainless steel kettle, on my cast iron, double burner, preparing water for tea. My kitchen window is a frame for a hibiscus hedge. They create a view of lush green leaves and red flowers. It could be worse. It’s no longer the meadow, where I watched horses and foal wander aimlessly, grazing. They were  pieces, of my picturesque puzzle, of Costa Rica. From the pioneer days. A time when no one wanted to be in Potrero. They called our pueblo, the Bronx. Some, simply have no vision. Continue reading Culture Crack Up/Comfort

My Crossfit Crew

These are the people that I have been working out around (not with) for about three months now. Today, is my last day here in CR. I have one more work out at 9 o’clock. I look forward to it. I feel the froth.

I have competed in the Open, this year. My coach suggested it, and I said sure. Right now I’m #1 in the country. I looked at Florida’s leader board and I would be way down in the rankings.  But I’m not there, so I’m enjoying it.  Continue reading My Crossfit Crew

Out of Order

coffin 2

The full moon loomed. She was a creature of the night. She was an intricate piece of the jungle puzzle. She was Juliann.

I have never seen such a narrow coffin. A small glass, over her face, in a closed casket, for her viewing. I made myself move slowly to see her; to say my good bye. Continue reading Out of Order