Seperate and Whole

When I left my home and my family I was no more than a girl, in the company of strangers, in the quiet of a railway station running scared……..

That’s a favorite line, from a favorite song, by one of my favorite singers, Paul Simon~back when he was  Simon and Garfunkel.

I woke up in the midst of family. I looked at my Facebook page and saw an invite from my granddaughter, which says that she is married. hmmmm… I believe that’s possible, but who knows. We have had a death in the family..an overdose…..it’s sad, but it happens. I avoid my two oldest sisters who were the executors of my mother’s estate, but had to step down, because they stole money decided to become opportunists………like they didn’t have enough. And it’s hard to see my brother, who I love, just because he’s my brother in a family of sisters, because he’s too much. The last time I saw him I had to listen to his outrageous made up stories.

Family…..

I write about adventure in my blog. And I am an adventurist. But it all started out……running from my family.

Some people run to a psychiatrist, I ran to Tallahassee. I was fourteen. It was one of the best things I ever did in my life.

If I think about it all, it makes me laugh, if I think too hard, I laugh hysterically.

At one time, I hung on to the idea that my family was to be treated like fine china, but the dishes have all fell off the shelf. And I just don’t have the time to pick up the pieces.

I stay separate, but whole~ THAT’S BUCKET LIST FOR ME~pura vida

Nuts in the Family Tree

Dan's Blog

Although the day was cold and crisp with cloudless skies,

I ordered a vanilla yogurt and then I sat,

The cashier looked at me with a question in her eyes,

“Would you like some nuts with that?”

She must have thought I was a normal guy,

 

She waited expectantly while I tried to decide,

“What are my choices?” I asked loud and clear,

She said, “Almonds, Brazil nuts, hazelnuts, walnuts, are but a few,”

I guess I didn’t have to shout with her standing near,

“Don’t forget pecans, macadamias, pine nuts and cashews,”

 

I started giggling and then my laughter turned into a roar,

I couldn’t choose one kind when there were nuts aplenty,

Soon I collapsed with laughter and tumbled to the floor,

“What’s wrong with him?” called one voice out of many,

“I don’t know,” I heard as I was thrown out…

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Bogged Down in Blog Town

When I woke up, I grabbed my bathrobe and checked for scorpions; a Costa Rica habit. hhmmmm…….I’m………

Going home to a place I’ve never been before. John Denver is singing in my head.

I woke up wanting to create a post. My mind is overwhelmed. I think to myself, what will I write about, ~my mudder, my fadder, my brudder~family issues greeted me upon my arrival.

Sometimes life can be overwhelming. And believe me, there was a time when I couldn’t sort it all out. I would go deeper and deeper into my mind.

Since I first read Faulkner, I always related to the character in the book, As I Lay Dying, that lost it and set a barn on fire. Not just any barn, but the one where Mama’s coffin’s was parked.

He kept pointing out to his father and siblings that Mama was dead and they could bury her anywhere. They didn’t have to drag her body across Mississipi, being stalked by buzzards.

All of the family members, in this hideous funeral procession, had a hidden agenda and it had nothing to do with the truth or their love for Mama.

Family can be like a nest of birds; eagles, strong and proud or sea gulls, diving to devour and fighting over stinking, rotting fish carcasses.

I am the Eagle I live in high country.There goes John singing again.

Some days are diamonds and some days are stones.

 

Hilda JoAnn

This is my mother, Hilda JoAnn. Today was her birthday, so, I’m thinking of her. I am proud to be a part of her lineage. She was, “born at the right time”. Which was December 27th, 1933. She flew away, January 16th 2007.

I use to dream of Julie Andrews being my mother. I just knew, that if she were my mother, I would be so happy. And, of course, I would have a wonderful voice. Life would be a musical.

Being Hilda’s daughter, was kind of like being in a chorus line. She was our leader and we were all her followers, but I couldn’t dance and I couldn’t sing.

My mother was a phenomenal woman. She was Irish Catholic.She got married at the age of fourteen, had five children, and made a fortune. How did she do that?

She lived with my father, until widowed. They were a team. I watched them work, and play, and laugh, and fight together. They played a lot of cards. She took us to church, but didn’t go, until the end of her life. She waited on the priest to receive her rights, before she would leave.

She answered the altar call, when we went to hear Joel O’Steen preach. She acted like it was a convenient time to stretch her legs. She wasn’t fooling me.

She told me, that no matter how bad things are; the sun will rise again in the morning.

She had, what people would call, a good attitude.

She also said, “if you don’t have something good to say about someone, then don’t say it at all.”~ she practiced that.

She was smart. She must have been. Having limited formal years of school, she was educated. She was an avid reader. I never knew, until I was grown, that when she was in her reading chair; she had ear plugs in. I told you she was smart.

She wasn’t scared of Y2k. She knew her math and owned paper, and pencil.

She outran the IRS, but they caught her, after her death.

I never saw a grey hair in her head.

I believe my mother was a great example, of being dealt the hand called life, and playing it well.

She gave me my love of the ocean.

So, I surf. Who needs to sing?

P.S. She was a good cook.

P.S.S. I really mean it. She was!

Mental Health?

I once read an interview in a surf magazine, where a young kid, living with his parents, was asked about dividing his time between California and Hawaii. His answer was, when I’m on the Island, I’m on the Island and when I’m on the Mainland, I’m on the Mainland. I had no idea how those words were going to replay in my mind, and be a guiding mantra to help me keep it together throught the last ten years.

I’m not sure what mental health is really. The dictionary says that, sound mental health, is ” the ability to think and behave in a normal and rational manner,”. Well who says what is normal.

When in Rome do as the Romans do.

When I came here, I wanted to assimilate into the culture. After being here a while, I found out how hard that can be. I went through a stages of trying to figure out what a “gringo” really is. There’s numerous definitions for that too.

Many things in life here have, drove me crazy, which I soon learned does not translate in Spanish. Neither does raining cats and dogs.

Year in, year out, I’ve seen many families come and go. They want it to be like it is at home. So they go home, eventually.

I fit in here, on my corner anyway, pretty darn good.

Here is an example:

This is my beloved stove. It’s practical for living here in the tropics. I make wonderful coffee on this stove. When I cook, I make a lot of one pot meals. And as you see I have a blender in the background; another must, for batidos (smoothies). There’s so much fresh fruit here and there’s a vendor right down the road. For years, I’ve not wanted anything more than this.

IMG_0509

Today, I went to town and purchased this stove top, with an oven. Is this what qualifies me as part of the human race? I don’t know. I once had an empty space, in my kitchen, where my stove had been. a When my sister saw it, she was horrified. Her comment was, “You can’t have a house without a stove.” I went out and bought a stove. I couldn’t shake the pressure of her comment. I didn’t want anyone to think I was crazy.

That was a long time ago.

The stove is really for Mary. Mary, Nestor and her two children live here with us and she is a good cook! Now I’d be crazy to not buy her a stove. Wouldn’t I?

Happy Surfer

This is the face of a happy surfer. This is my oldest granddaughter.

This is the face of a happy surfer, surfing.

This is the face of a happy surfer and her Papa.

I woke up this morning thinking about my granddaughter. She has been here to visit me three times. These pictures are of her learning. She’s pretty capable in the lineup now, if she’s out there. She’s put her surfing on the back burner, but she can honestly say that she has surfed with Robert August. He dropped in on her once.

The first time I saw her take off on a head high wave, she was down the beach and I thought OMG, she’s never going to surf again. It looked like she was going to be late, and she was on my 9’6 Orion, in the picture. It looked like a recipe for disaster. But she made it. She road it in straight, but all the way to the beach. Yes, she had the huge surfer smile.

Surfing can be a path to happiness.

Who would believe it!

It looks like I’m going to get to surf tomorrow, in the morning. I am really looking forward to it. But I have something I think is far more interesting to share about today.

This picture was taken by a Niaraguan woman that I know. I lent her my camera today to take to a children’s party. She has NEVER used a camera before in her life!  Can you imagine that. We truly take a lot for granted.

This picture is totally unedited. I think she did a good job. How about you?