I re-posted this because, one, I like Noir’s blog. The other reason is this picture made me think of the tight bonds and binds I have been in – in my life. And when I share with some, (I don’t want to insult) And they say in a cheery voice ….. Just Let it Go.
I agree with the let it go – it’s the Just that makes me cringe.
This post is an annual check up of my blog.
Hhhhmmmm. A year ago, I was writing – I felt as if the flesh was being torn from the bones of my soul.
I can read that poem and remember. Oh, it was awful.
I came here to Potrero, thinking I was going to help, the kid, go to the University. Nada, no way Jose. This boy is going to swing a machete the rest of his life. – Okay – that took a while to process – to come down from. What a crock of mierda. – Who knows, the many piles of manure that I have stepped in, have become fertilizer in my life.
Continue reading Annual Blog Check Up
This screen shot of my media pics, at a glance, are the most representative of my life at this moment.
I am taken back again. Over and over. Never disappointed at the changes in our lives; our world.
I came to Costa Rica to be an aesthetic and live with the Indians. That happened and it didn’t happen.
God gives and God takes away…I am not God.
I have a brain. I will assume that you have one as well. Artificial Intelligence is bizarre to say the least. No vision, no artistry, no spiritual connection.
Artificial
I had a focus ! I had a love?
It hurt😘
I had a dream! It was a good one?
It died😘
😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩
Lynn Skapyak Harlin is a poet in Jacksonville, Florida. My hometown. She promotes reading and writing. She says, “write about everything.” That is my inspiration today.
Lounging here in my CR casita, my beloved painted red crocks, by my bed. My freshly vacuumed burlap ceiling above me. The concrete floor the same as when I built the house. Never tiled. The concrete pitted.
It has taken a lot of living for me to learn and accept. To give up – to get.
I feel blessed.
When one dream dies – Dream a new one.
Climb – Read a book- Write
I opened my eyes to an unreal and dreaded scene. My mind was saying no, this is not happening. It is happening. Damn it – this is real. My husband was halfway across the room, machete in hand. My dog was perched at my feet, muscles pumped and barking ferociously.
A drug addicted young man, probably illegal, had opened our door and was coming into our house. A crime of opportunity. The door had been left unlocked.
He ran. But he didn’t get far.
Living in Costa Rica is a game of life. A gamble. Different. Either you can adapt or you can’t. Either you live scared or you don’t.
We’re fortunate he didn’t have a gun. He was a desperate, high, kid – someone that three weeks ago, my husband had bought food for. He had been in front of the grocery store; begging. And now he was helping himself to our space. Our home.
Since this “shitty blog” is my journal, I feel the need to document. I also feel the need to write more. But I also have to clean my burlap ceiling.
Come on down to Costa Rica….catch a fish…catch a burglar.
The boat could sink – you could get hurt.
I have to go. I have to clean my ceiling.
We are working to make our home, a home again. Years ago we purchased this corner lot. It was God given. We shared it with another family, but now we are on our own. I am becoming innovative.
I always work to make my places look Fairy Tale. Who needs other’s reality when I can create my own.
I live on the edge of Mordor.
I am surrounded by traveling leprechauns and immigrant ghosts.
Together we live our best lives.
I lean my head back to view my burlap ceiling. Stapled and framed in blonde wood. Another artistic flair. Something different.
Just ask me about different. It has been the theme of my life.
I sent my, Who Am I post, to Sassy Silver Surfers. An over fifty ladies group, of women who surf.
Continue reading Where am I?
What is this world coming to?
I was shocked to see this sign at the entrance of the Auto Mercado in Tamarindo, Costa Rica! I had clothes on, so I was good. Having just left the beach, playing with my dog. I enjoyed seeing the students and horses. Tourists – having fun. On another day I might have been surfing and at the start of my first grocery pit stop. I have 5 between Tamarindo and Playa Potrero. It’s necessary to try and beat the cost of today’s groceries
I am currently living in flux – I’ve dug a glorious hole here. It started one way and has ended up another.
Continue reading The Life of a Dedicated Beach Bum
Hang in there!
Last Friday, I posted to Sassy Silver Surfers. SSS is my favorite women’s surfing FB page. The post was a quip. A memory of my first stay in Costa Rica. My husband took me to Mal Pais, for my fortieth. That trip changed our lives in a drastic way. Surfing became a dominant passion.
Continue reading Costa Rica Surf Adventures: Passion and Transformation
Meet Rafa. He has lived with all of his life until last night.
We are in Costa Rica wondering exactly what happened. But really we know. It’s gonna take a while to process.
Rafa’s Dad came to live with us over twenty years ago. He was living in a man camp. And kept getting fired from all of his jobs. I met him when a man building my fence asked to hire him. When I saw how Nestor held a hammer I knew why he got fired all of the time. I took the hammer from his hand. ‘It’s OK.”
He came to live with us. He got married. He had two children. We lived here like a family. Many things have occurred. We have been through a lot together.
Rafa graduated high school and wanted to go to college. I believe Rafa is an exceptional person with a high I Q.
His parents refuse to let him attend the University. We offered to pay for his tuition. He is now working as a laborer. He is now a laborer who belongs in academia. He wants to be in academia. I didn’t make this up for him.
His parents have moved to a Nicaraguan “hood”.
There is much racism here in Costa Rica. The general consensus is Nicas are not smart. Drunks. The women are loose. And they will never get anywhere. I have experienced a lot of racism dumped on this kid. And now I have seen it dumped on him by his own parents.
Unbelievable. They sincerely believe he needs to stay out of school. No education for Rafa.
Continue reading Crabs in a Big Brown Bucket
Fish Eye Farm 