Yesterday I asked Miguel to pick up a chicken at the market. A whole chicken already cut in pieces so I could make pollo adobo a la Sue.
After preparing the adobo marinade, I dumped the bag of chicken pieces into the sink. There, right on top, was a chicken foot.
When I first started buying chicken at the market, it was hard standing there looking at all those dead birds with their blank eyes staring into nowhere. Somehow that makes them a little too vulnerable, and I feel bad for perpetuating the exploitation of the chicken because I am buying it in order to eat it.
I wish I could be vegetarian. Miguel suffers the same pangs of regret, so I wouldn't be surprised if one day we just bite the bullet and stop eating animals. If we gradually reduce our consumption, then hopefully we'll get there.
In the meantime, when I buy the chicken, I always tell the butcher I don't want the head or the feet. Sometimes I forget because as I'm standing there waiting for him to cut up the chicken, I get distracted by little scuffles between dogs, or other people milling around. I'll turn back just in time to see the butcher clipping the toenails, with which I'll say "No pies, por favor" (pie means foot - pronounced "pee-eh"). The butcher tosses the feet into a container on the floor, or into the mouth of a waiting stray dog (which is why they scuffle, sometimes).
So I purchase headless and footless chickens, and I thought Miguel knew that. But yesterday the foot was there right on top. Gross - I don't even want to touch it, it feels weird. So I used a piece of the plastic bag to lift the foot over to the other side of the sink.
Then I went fishing amongst the chicken pieces for the other foot, and as I was doing that, I was saying out loud, "Please don't let there be a head in here". The feet are bad enough, but the head? Unnerving...
I found the other foot, and laid them both in the other side of the sink while I skinned and washed the other chicken pieces. The good pieces will be used to make pollo adobo, the other pieces will be used to make soup.
The ironic thing is...chicken soup here is often made using the feet of the chicken. I know that, and I try not to think about it, because I love the chicken soup here, especially the soup that Miguel's daughter makes, or the soup from La Familia Tomasa.
Miguel came home just as I was cleaning up. I asked him if he wanted to take the feet to his daughter so she could make soup. He just laughed and said to leave them here. Apparently it is offensive to offer someone the feet of the chicken without offering them the good parts too. It is like giving someone your leftovers instead of the nice meal you originally prepared; it is perceived as discrimination. How would I know that?
So I put the feet on a plate and walked across the street and threw them far into the bushes. Hopefully the stray animal that comes across them will think they've come upon a feast. And hopefully my footless soup will be tasty anyway.
And I never did find the head. Miguel did good.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Saturday, November 21, 2009
I must say this...
Having to reformat and reinstall programs no less than 3 times in the last 2 weeks has turned me into a lean user. With this last install I'm not bothering with anything other than the basics until I find out if it is stable or not.
Have I mentioned how fed up I am with computer problems? I have wasted more time in the last three weeks, it's a good thing I don't have a job to worry about. I finally withdrew from my online courses because I have not been able to spend the time doing the research or the assignments, and to try to cram it all in during these last two weeks would maybe get me the 'pass' but I would not feel like I learned anything, and that is the point of the courses, afterall. I am doing this for my own personal growth, so have abandoned the classes and will pick them up next year when things are settled (hopefully that WILL happen!).
This is my last shot at trying to use this laptop though, if this one corrupts the drive then I'm done - I'll ship the machine out for repair (assuming Dell will agree it is a hardware issue) and that will be that.
However, there is an 'up' side. I've learned some new things about restoring backup data. And I've been playing with IE 8 and Google Chrome and have discovered some nice features that provide eye candy (i.e., themes for my email).
I had been mapping both gmail accounts to Outlook so I could just have one program open and see all my email. But I got tired of deleting multiple instances of the same email, or marking it as 'read'. And I really got tired trying to reinstall the setup with each new install on my laptop.
I am surprised at how little I like Outlook other than for its calendar feature. I could not find an easy way to add an email user to my contact list. And I could not find a way to force email to look to my contact list to generate a new message. I poked around with settings and options but couldn't find anything that seemed like it would work. Something seems disconnected there, maybe it was me.
I did like that I could create multiple calendars and use different colors - easy to see the vacancies for the rental properties at a glance. But that alone will not make me go back to Outlook. So for now, adios!
And so I discovered Google Chrome, and found out that I can have one gmail account open there and a different one in IE. So I can easily see my emails at the same time anyway. And gmail is really easy to manage, and I like that it keeps the conversations together so I'm not wading through lists of emails looking for something I sent to someone.
I played with the Google calendar yesterday, and found out that I can put some code into an html page and provide calendar access to a potential guest so they can see open time. Most guests know when they're coming so I just tell them if we can accommodate or not, but a few guests have not booked flights, they are waiting to find accommodations first. It's nice that I will be able to give them the link to the calendar and they can see for themselves when we would be able to host them at the apartments.
Speaking of reservations, they have been coming in fast and furious. I think Isla Mujeres is in for a good tourist season if our reservations and requests are any indication. That gives me hope, because the US economy is still not looking good from my point of view and I think there is more bad news to come. It's scary, but if the island can attract tourists who can afford a vacation, then there is hope for the locals here who have been living day-to-day. I'm really not sure how some of them have been managing but Mexicans are incredibly resourceful and resilient, they're hanging on somehow. Let's hope 2010 brings relief to Mexico, and the world.
Have I mentioned how fed up I am with computer problems? I have wasted more time in the last three weeks, it's a good thing I don't have a job to worry about. I finally withdrew from my online courses because I have not been able to spend the time doing the research or the assignments, and to try to cram it all in during these last two weeks would maybe get me the 'pass' but I would not feel like I learned anything, and that is the point of the courses, afterall. I am doing this for my own personal growth, so have abandoned the classes and will pick them up next year when things are settled (hopefully that WILL happen!).
This is my last shot at trying to use this laptop though, if this one corrupts the drive then I'm done - I'll ship the machine out for repair (assuming Dell will agree it is a hardware issue) and that will be that.
However, there is an 'up' side. I've learned some new things about restoring backup data. And I've been playing with IE 8 and Google Chrome and have discovered some nice features that provide eye candy (i.e., themes for my email).
I had been mapping both gmail accounts to Outlook so I could just have one program open and see all my email. But I got tired of deleting multiple instances of the same email, or marking it as 'read'. And I really got tired trying to reinstall the setup with each new install on my laptop.
I am surprised at how little I like Outlook other than for its calendar feature. I could not find an easy way to add an email user to my contact list. And I could not find a way to force email to look to my contact list to generate a new message. I poked around with settings and options but couldn't find anything that seemed like it would work. Something seems disconnected there, maybe it was me.
I did like that I could create multiple calendars and use different colors - easy to see the vacancies for the rental properties at a glance. But that alone will not make me go back to Outlook. So for now, adios!
And so I discovered Google Chrome, and found out that I can have one gmail account open there and a different one in IE. So I can easily see my emails at the same time anyway. And gmail is really easy to manage, and I like that it keeps the conversations together so I'm not wading through lists of emails looking for something I sent to someone.
I played with the Google calendar yesterday, and found out that I can put some code into an html page and provide calendar access to a potential guest so they can see open time. Most guests know when they're coming so I just tell them if we can accommodate or not, but a few guests have not booked flights, they are waiting to find accommodations first. It's nice that I will be able to give them the link to the calendar and they can see for themselves when we would be able to host them at the apartments.
Speaking of reservations, they have been coming in fast and furious. I think Isla Mujeres is in for a good tourist season if our reservations and requests are any indication. That gives me hope, because the US economy is still not looking good from my point of view and I think there is more bad news to come. It's scary, but if the island can attract tourists who can afford a vacation, then there is hope for the locals here who have been living day-to-day. I'm really not sure how some of them have been managing but Mexicans are incredibly resourceful and resilient, they're hanging on somehow. Let's hope 2010 brings relief to Mexico, and the world.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Noisy days
Our colonia is usually pretty quiet, but over the last few days it has been unusually noisy. The family that lives next door is very quiet - we rarely hear anything coming from their direction. But several times now the woman, a quiet-spoken teacher, has been out in front and talking at the top of her lungs to another neighbor. One morning it was at 6:30 am. We were up (we are usually up around 6), sitting on the couch enjoying our morning coffee when she let loose. We just looked at each other because it was such a surprise to hear her speak so loudly.
Our neighbor has one daughter - a sweet polite girl. Next to them live some cousins - a more rambunctious couple of kids. When they first started playing together we rarely heard the girl next door - playing loudly wasn't her style. But now, all the kids are into their game, and they shout and just talk loud, as if everyone around them is deaf. Thankfully they are usually in school, but after school, if the weather is nice, they play. Often their games involve a ball, which invariably finds its way into our front garden. Usually when one or both of us is enjoying an after-dinner siesta. They stand outside the front gate and bellow my name, over and over. Hard to ignore them (although sometimes I do if I'm really into my siesta). Once I got a charge out of hearing them finally give up - "No esta" (she's not there). Oh yes I was...but I just wasn't going to answer the door!
Last evening the guys working at the shop on the other side of the kids' house decided to kick a soccer ball around. They placed rocks in the road as their goal posts, and had a roaring match of soccer going - right in front of our house, where the street lamp gives them light, and the road is flat.
As young men can be inclined to do, they shouted rude comments to each other - comments even I understood and did not appreciate, especially knowing young children live right here. I couldn't wait for Miguel to come home and park the golf cart right in the middle of their playing field. I reported the horking and rude language, noting that I was glad to see them playing and having fun rather than doing something bad, but didn't really like the disgusting part. Nothing we could do of course - they are good guys, just immature and needing to show each other up. They stopped their game shortly after Miguel got home, so that was that.
Someone nearby has been setting off the odd firework. Just enough to unnerve Loco. The other night he was just finishing his meal out on the front terrace when one went off. Loco stuck his paw on the front screen door and pulled it open - something he usually can't do unless he's desperate.
Yesterday afternoon I was upstairs when I heard a firework go off. Loco had been on the front terrace but soon he slunk upstairs and crawled under the bed where nothing can get him. And yup, he opened the front screen door again.
This morning Loco decided to take off, and even though Miguel whistled for him, he didn't come back. So Miguel took off down towards the lagoon looking for him. He'd heard some dogs making a fuss and figured Loco was part of the action. He finally found Loco and all he had to do was raise his arm as if to swat him and Loco shrieked like a girl and took off at full speed back home.
I was in the kitchen when Loco came tearing through and went straight up the stairs, saliva hanging from his mouth. Under the bed, safe from the wrath of Miguel. And yes, he opened the screen door again to let himself in. Amazing what a little fear can do to enable one to accomplish something. You'd think we normally beat the dog or something judging from Loco's fear of us.
So the neighborhood is a little flaky lately - not sure why, maybe the passing hurricane IDA dropped some weird spell over the island. Personally, I look forward to getting back to normal (whatever that is).
Our neighbor has one daughter - a sweet polite girl. Next to them live some cousins - a more rambunctious couple of kids. When they first started playing together we rarely heard the girl next door - playing loudly wasn't her style. But now, all the kids are into their game, and they shout and just talk loud, as if everyone around them is deaf. Thankfully they are usually in school, but after school, if the weather is nice, they play. Often their games involve a ball, which invariably finds its way into our front garden. Usually when one or both of us is enjoying an after-dinner siesta. They stand outside the front gate and bellow my name, over and over. Hard to ignore them (although sometimes I do if I'm really into my siesta). Once I got a charge out of hearing them finally give up - "No esta" (she's not there). Oh yes I was...but I just wasn't going to answer the door!
Last evening the guys working at the shop on the other side of the kids' house decided to kick a soccer ball around. They placed rocks in the road as their goal posts, and had a roaring match of soccer going - right in front of our house, where the street lamp gives them light, and the road is flat.
As young men can be inclined to do, they shouted rude comments to each other - comments even I understood and did not appreciate, especially knowing young children live right here. I couldn't wait for Miguel to come home and park the golf cart right in the middle of their playing field. I reported the horking and rude language, noting that I was glad to see them playing and having fun rather than doing something bad, but didn't really like the disgusting part. Nothing we could do of course - they are good guys, just immature and needing to show each other up. They stopped their game shortly after Miguel got home, so that was that.
Someone nearby has been setting off the odd firework. Just enough to unnerve Loco. The other night he was just finishing his meal out on the front terrace when one went off. Loco stuck his paw on the front screen door and pulled it open - something he usually can't do unless he's desperate.
Yesterday afternoon I was upstairs when I heard a firework go off. Loco had been on the front terrace but soon he slunk upstairs and crawled under the bed where nothing can get him. And yup, he opened the front screen door again.
This morning Loco decided to take off, and even though Miguel whistled for him, he didn't come back. So Miguel took off down towards the lagoon looking for him. He'd heard some dogs making a fuss and figured Loco was part of the action. He finally found Loco and all he had to do was raise his arm as if to swat him and Loco shrieked like a girl and took off at full speed back home.
I was in the kitchen when Loco came tearing through and went straight up the stairs, saliva hanging from his mouth. Under the bed, safe from the wrath of Miguel. And yes, he opened the screen door again to let himself in. Amazing what a little fear can do to enable one to accomplish something. You'd think we normally beat the dog or something judging from Loco's fear of us.
So the neighborhood is a little flaky lately - not sure why, maybe the passing hurricane IDA dropped some weird spell over the island. Personally, I look forward to getting back to normal (whatever that is).
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Yes! We have a Visa!!
Last week I spent two days putting the final paperwork together for Miguel's visa. I say 'final' because we've been gathering paperwork since late August. And somehow we (you know who I really mean, right?) lost everything I'd printed and had to start over. Let's just say my mood during those two days was a little 'touchy'.
The final push wasn't easy. Miguel has 8 brothers and sisters and they wanted to know their names and birthdates, where they live, and what they do for a living. He was able to call his sister and get the birthdates of his parents and two siblings - the rest we had to leave blank. That, along with some other paperwork requirements that he wasn't able to provide as requested (most Mexicans wouldn't be able to either), led us to believe the visa would not be approved...despite the fact that Miguel has been to Canada 3 times already (and always came back to Isla).
We did have proof from the police that he was a fine upstanding citizen. Well, that may be exaggerating, we had a letter stating that he is not in trouble with the law. And I wrote a letter explaining why we wanted to go to Canada, and talked about the other trips Miguel has made, as well as our trip to Norway (to prove that we had a relationship prior to the visa requirement).
All in all, we put together the best possible package we could and were resigned to accept whatever decision was made.
The processing time is stated as an average of 10 business days. They received the package last Thursday. I tracked the return number this week, and yesterday it showed up - the package was on its way back to us already.
Hmmm...that seemed too fast. Must mean it was incomplete, or I screwed up the certified check from the Mexican bank (they state they will return everything unprocessed if the check is incorrect), or he was simply denied.
Last night the tracking number showed that the package was in Cancun waiting for pickup. So...off we went early this morning. DHL was our first stop.
We couldn't wait to tear open the envelope once we were in the cab. Right on top, open on the visa page, was Miguel's passport.
Hurray! We are going to Canada! And Bennie and Stefan will be babysitting! Win-win all round!
P.S. To the Canadian government...
I still don't think imposing a visa on Mexicans was a smart thing to do, and neither do other Canadians in power, apparently. According to the Mexican news, there was a lively debate in parliament the other day, and the Canadians themselves called it a stupid policy. As Miguel kindly stated - Mexico would never say that to Canada (but we sure can think it).
And to whomever processed Miguel's visa, I want to thank you. Thank you for understanding why the paperwork was completed as it was, and why some of the things requested were very difficult to provide as requested. Mostly, thank you for believing what I wrote, explaining the situation when applications and forms could not. I told the truth, and I am thankful that you believed me and didn't try to pull a power trip as many in your position might. You are obviously a person who can see beyond the paperwork, and maybe you understand something about the lives of the average Mexican. You have made us happy today. Thank you!
The final push wasn't easy. Miguel has 8 brothers and sisters and they wanted to know their names and birthdates, where they live, and what they do for a living. He was able to call his sister and get the birthdates of his parents and two siblings - the rest we had to leave blank. That, along with some other paperwork requirements that he wasn't able to provide as requested (most Mexicans wouldn't be able to either), led us to believe the visa would not be approved...despite the fact that Miguel has been to Canada 3 times already (and always came back to Isla).
We did have proof from the police that he was a fine upstanding citizen. Well, that may be exaggerating, we had a letter stating that he is not in trouble with the law. And I wrote a letter explaining why we wanted to go to Canada, and talked about the other trips Miguel has made, as well as our trip to Norway (to prove that we had a relationship prior to the visa requirement).
All in all, we put together the best possible package we could and were resigned to accept whatever decision was made.
The processing time is stated as an average of 10 business days. They received the package last Thursday. I tracked the return number this week, and yesterday it showed up - the package was on its way back to us already.
Hmmm...that seemed too fast. Must mean it was incomplete, or I screwed up the certified check from the Mexican bank (they state they will return everything unprocessed if the check is incorrect), or he was simply denied.
Last night the tracking number showed that the package was in Cancun waiting for pickup. So...off we went early this morning. DHL was our first stop.
We couldn't wait to tear open the envelope once we were in the cab. Right on top, open on the visa page, was Miguel's passport.
Hurray! We are going to Canada! And Bennie and Stefan will be babysitting! Win-win all round!
P.S. To the Canadian government...
I still don't think imposing a visa on Mexicans was a smart thing to do, and neither do other Canadians in power, apparently. According to the Mexican news, there was a lively debate in parliament the other day, and the Canadians themselves called it a stupid policy. As Miguel kindly stated - Mexico would never say that to Canada (but we sure can think it).
And to whomever processed Miguel's visa, I want to thank you. Thank you for understanding why the paperwork was completed as it was, and why some of the things requested were very difficult to provide as requested. Mostly, thank you for believing what I wrote, explaining the situation when applications and forms could not. I told the truth, and I am thankful that you believed me and didn't try to pull a power trip as many in your position might. You are obviously a person who can see beyond the paperwork, and maybe you understand something about the lives of the average Mexican. You have made us happy today. Thank you!
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Cancun Sunday
On Sunday we went to Cancun and enjoyed a nice day at the movies and shopping for apartment supplies for the new studio apartment. The Chedraui at Plaza Las Americas has the best selection of 'stuff' compared to Walmart, Sorianna, and other Chedraui stores.
The theater was very modern. I had reserved our tickets online and was pleasantly surprised by how easy it was to pick them up and pay - I expected some sort of paper deal, they love filling out forms here - by hand. But everything was done by computer and in just a couple of minutes we had our tickets and were off to the next stage of movie-going...the snacks.
We bought our popcorn and drinks, and went inside to get good seats. Not that we needed to worry - there might have been 5 others in there when we arrived, and by the time the show started, maybe 20.
Seated right behind us was a family with two very small children. The show, "This is It", is not a show for kids, but there they were, running around and laughing and talking and just being kids. I was thinking we'd have to move but once the show started, either they fell asleep or they were just well-behaved. Miguel and I disrupted the show more than anyone, as the coke we drank went right to our bladders, and we had to get up in the middle of the show and take care of that issue.
The seats in the theatre were so comfortable - they actually reclined and both of us dozed off a bit while we waited for the show to start. Sure beats the position we have to adopt to doze off on the ferry - sitting upright with our heads bobbing forward.
After the show we got a bite to eat at Mama Roma's. I filled up on bread dipped in garlic oil, bruschetta bread, and soup. Miguel ordered fish with mashed potatoes. Then we headed over to Chedraui to see what they had to offer. Along with some other stuff, I found a chair for my desk that will hopefully mean no more sore, twisted back and neck muscles from sitting sideways on the couch.
We were first in the local's line at the Ultramar ferry. Suddenly a small man appeared directly behind us - he had shoved his way through the people congregated behind us and was standing pretty close to us. He was only wearing jeans and a muscle shirt - no shoes.
I wasn't paying much attention but I heard Miguel say to him "Chiapas", and then the guy responded something, and it seemed like Miguel was telling him it wasn't correct to cut the line like that. The guy seemingly paid no attention but when I turned around a couple of minutes later, the guy was gone.
Several minutes later, after the ferry had just finished unloading, the guy came from the other side of the dock and went under the ropes and walked right up the ramp and onto the ferry. Miguel and I just looked at each other and chuckled - the "Chiapas" guy was determined to be first to board.
However, just as we handed in our tickets and were ready to board, the "Chiapas" guy was escorted back off the boat by a couple of guys working there. The guy was trying to brush them off, but they weren't letting him go. It was now clear he was drunk. He was begging them to let him go on the ferry, but they just kept telling him that he was not going.
We figured out that the guy had hoped to slip past the ticket-taker when we handed in our tickets. He was small enough that he might have succeeded but for some reason he changed his tactics and decided to try to slip on unnoticed before anyone else boarded. This was his downfall. He had probably drunk all his ticket money and had no way to get back to the island.
So we took off with the image of the drunk in the hands of the Ultramar crew, wondering how it would all end for him. And I wonder how often the crew of the ferry are expected to act as bouncers for undesirable passengers. Probably more than we realize.
The theater was very modern. I had reserved our tickets online and was pleasantly surprised by how easy it was to pick them up and pay - I expected some sort of paper deal, they love filling out forms here - by hand. But everything was done by computer and in just a couple of minutes we had our tickets and were off to the next stage of movie-going...the snacks.
We bought our popcorn and drinks, and went inside to get good seats. Not that we needed to worry - there might have been 5 others in there when we arrived, and by the time the show started, maybe 20.
Seated right behind us was a family with two very small children. The show, "This is It", is not a show for kids, but there they were, running around and laughing and talking and just being kids. I was thinking we'd have to move but once the show started, either they fell asleep or they were just well-behaved. Miguel and I disrupted the show more than anyone, as the coke we drank went right to our bladders, and we had to get up in the middle of the show and take care of that issue.
The seats in the theatre were so comfortable - they actually reclined and both of us dozed off a bit while we waited for the show to start. Sure beats the position we have to adopt to doze off on the ferry - sitting upright with our heads bobbing forward.
After the show we got a bite to eat at Mama Roma's. I filled up on bread dipped in garlic oil, bruschetta bread, and soup. Miguel ordered fish with mashed potatoes. Then we headed over to Chedraui to see what they had to offer. Along with some other stuff, I found a chair for my desk that will hopefully mean no more sore, twisted back and neck muscles from sitting sideways on the couch.
We were first in the local's line at the Ultramar ferry. Suddenly a small man appeared directly behind us - he had shoved his way through the people congregated behind us and was standing pretty close to us. He was only wearing jeans and a muscle shirt - no shoes.
I wasn't paying much attention but I heard Miguel say to him "Chiapas", and then the guy responded something, and it seemed like Miguel was telling him it wasn't correct to cut the line like that. The guy seemingly paid no attention but when I turned around a couple of minutes later, the guy was gone.
Several minutes later, after the ferry had just finished unloading, the guy came from the other side of the dock and went under the ropes and walked right up the ramp and onto the ferry. Miguel and I just looked at each other and chuckled - the "Chiapas" guy was determined to be first to board.
However, just as we handed in our tickets and were ready to board, the "Chiapas" guy was escorted back off the boat by a couple of guys working there. The guy was trying to brush them off, but they weren't letting him go. It was now clear he was drunk. He was begging them to let him go on the ferry, but they just kept telling him that he was not going.
We figured out that the guy had hoped to slip past the ticket-taker when we handed in our tickets. He was small enough that he might have succeeded but for some reason he changed his tactics and decided to try to slip on unnoticed before anyone else boarded. This was his downfall. He had probably drunk all his ticket money and had no way to get back to the island.
So we took off with the image of the drunk in the hands of the Ultramar crew, wondering how it would all end for him. And I wonder how often the crew of the ferry are expected to act as bouncers for undesirable passengers. Probably more than we realize.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Why I'm glad I'm not bald
I have a big lump on the back of my head. It's my fridge's fault. I was stooping down to get some fruit out of the bottom drawer, and when I stood up, I whacked the back of my head on the corner of the freezer handle. Wow - that hurt. I actually cried!
And I wanted to beat the fridge. It has whacked me before, and I'm tired of it.
The golf cart hits me now and then too, especially if I go to step into it off a curb. Whack, right in the front of my head, where my bangs sprout from. Sometimes I see stars.
And that's not all, the golf cart is so rude it attacks our guests too. Several have felt the pain as they tried to raise themselves up onto the back seat. We always warn them (well, sometimes we warn them AFTER they've been whacked).
I used to have a cupboard in my laundry room, right over my washing machine. I hit my head so often on the corner of that cupboard that I had Miguel install a thick strip of weather stripping all around the edge. At least when I got hit after that, there was plenty of padding and it didn't draw blood.
I think I'm lucky to have a full head of hair. The hair serves as a cushion when I get hit. With all the blows I've taken to the head, imagine how my scalp would look if I were bald?
And I wanted to beat the fridge. It has whacked me before, and I'm tired of it.
The golf cart hits me now and then too, especially if I go to step into it off a curb. Whack, right in the front of my head, where my bangs sprout from. Sometimes I see stars.
And that's not all, the golf cart is so rude it attacks our guests too. Several have felt the pain as they tried to raise themselves up onto the back seat. We always warn them (well, sometimes we warn them AFTER they've been whacked).
I used to have a cupboard in my laundry room, right over my washing machine. I hit my head so often on the corner of that cupboard that I had Miguel install a thick strip of weather stripping all around the edge. At least when I got hit after that, there was plenty of padding and it didn't draw blood.
I think I'm lucky to have a full head of hair. The hair serves as a cushion when I get hit. With all the blows I've taken to the head, imagine how my scalp would look if I were bald?
Sunday, November 15, 2009
The Sale of the Century
A couple of days ago the kids next door were playing 'house' with the concrete blocks stacked along the side of their wall. One of the things they were doing was planting seeds in pots, and when Miguel came home, he saw what they were doing and took them some of his own seeds. He explained how to soak them, plant them, and then water them. He described the type of flower they would get if they took good care of the plants.
Later that afternoon the youngest girl, about 6, ran over as we were going out to clarify how much water she should use to soak the seeds. I think they are taking it seriously - I have spotted the pots along the railing of the balcony, where they will get a nice dose of sun every day.
The next day I was out walking the dog when the smallest child called to me - something about 'melate'. The only 'melate' I know about is the national lottery, the one I really would like Miguel to win.
She called to her 10-year-old cousin, our next-door neighbor. The cousin, a very polite young girl, came over holding a handful of different lottery papers (the ones you use to submit your numbers to the machine). She asked me if I wanted to buy one but before I could even answer, she said her friend had told her to sell them and then she said, timidly, 'but maybe it's not true'.
I told her that it really wasn't true, she couldn't sell those tickets to make money. She would have to submit the numbers and pay for the ticket, so there would be nothing in it for her. She looked a little sheepish so I didn't tell her that children probably cannot play the lottery anyway.
I told the girls that Miguel buys those tickets twice a week and he could explain to them how it all worked, if they wanted to know. He is now their buddy so they will probably ask him about it (if they remember).
A little later I was cooking our dinner when I decided to run to the store down the street to pick up some fresh rolls. I turned the burner down to low and headed out.
The youngest child ran up to me and jabbered something very excitedly in Spanish - she spoke so fast I didn't catch what she was saying. But then I saw that she, her brother, and their cousin (both 10 years old) had set up a small table on the terrace next door and it was loaded with some of their toys.
Stuffed animals, some kind of keyboard toy, and in the middle, some blank lottery papers to fill in your numbers. The same papers they'd asked me about.
The boy was sitting behind the table. They asked me if I wanted to buy something, and I told them that I had to run to the store because I was cooking, but would check it out a little later.
When I got to the corner I was amused to see a sign posted on the wall of the corner house, notifying the neighborhood that there was a sale of toys and games going on, with an arrow pointing in the direction of the sale.
I bought my rolls and headed back home. When I got to the table, it had been cleared off. The salesman was still sitting there, and I asked him if they had already sold all their stuff. I couldn't imagine how they could have sold out in just 5 minutes, but nothing was there. The sale of the century? (at least on our street?).
They just smiled and explained that the sale was over. I suspect their parents got wind of their scheme when they were explaining it to me, and while I was at the store they were told to shut it down.
They didn't seem bothered by it though. They informed me that now they were going to put on an hour of theater. Since they weren't inviting me to buy a ticket to their show, I went in and we ate our meal. Afterwards I tried to nap on the bed, but the kids were in full throttle with their show, and it was noisy.
From what I could gather, the 10-year-old girl was the queen and her 10-year-old cousin was her slave. She barked out orders to him and he mostly obeyed, although she had to get tough with him now and then. I'm not sure what role the 6-year-old was playing because from what I could tell, she mostly supported the queen, shouting out encouragement now and then, and just running around.
So I'm really not sure what they've really been up to the last couple of days but maybe they are trying to raise some money. Maybe I was overhearing dress-rehearsal and I will still get hit on to buy tickets to the real show. Or maybe once the seeds sprout, they'll try to sell me some plants. I have a feeling these children have a plan.
Later that afternoon the youngest girl, about 6, ran over as we were going out to clarify how much water she should use to soak the seeds. I think they are taking it seriously - I have spotted the pots along the railing of the balcony, where they will get a nice dose of sun every day.
The next day I was out walking the dog when the smallest child called to me - something about 'melate'. The only 'melate' I know about is the national lottery, the one I really would like Miguel to win.
She called to her 10-year-old cousin, our next-door neighbor. The cousin, a very polite young girl, came over holding a handful of different lottery papers (the ones you use to submit your numbers to the machine). She asked me if I wanted to buy one but before I could even answer, she said her friend had told her to sell them and then she said, timidly, 'but maybe it's not true'.
I told her that it really wasn't true, she couldn't sell those tickets to make money. She would have to submit the numbers and pay for the ticket, so there would be nothing in it for her. She looked a little sheepish so I didn't tell her that children probably cannot play the lottery anyway.
I told the girls that Miguel buys those tickets twice a week and he could explain to them how it all worked, if they wanted to know. He is now their buddy so they will probably ask him about it (if they remember).
A little later I was cooking our dinner when I decided to run to the store down the street to pick up some fresh rolls. I turned the burner down to low and headed out.
The youngest child ran up to me and jabbered something very excitedly in Spanish - she spoke so fast I didn't catch what she was saying. But then I saw that she, her brother, and their cousin (both 10 years old) had set up a small table on the terrace next door and it was loaded with some of their toys.
Stuffed animals, some kind of keyboard toy, and in the middle, some blank lottery papers to fill in your numbers. The same papers they'd asked me about.
The boy was sitting behind the table. They asked me if I wanted to buy something, and I told them that I had to run to the store because I was cooking, but would check it out a little later.
When I got to the corner I was amused to see a sign posted on the wall of the corner house, notifying the neighborhood that there was a sale of toys and games going on, with an arrow pointing in the direction of the sale.
I bought my rolls and headed back home. When I got to the table, it had been cleared off. The salesman was still sitting there, and I asked him if they had already sold all their stuff. I couldn't imagine how they could have sold out in just 5 minutes, but nothing was there. The sale of the century? (at least on our street?).
They just smiled and explained that the sale was over. I suspect their parents got wind of their scheme when they were explaining it to me, and while I was at the store they were told to shut it down.
They didn't seem bothered by it though. They informed me that now they were going to put on an hour of theater. Since they weren't inviting me to buy a ticket to their show, I went in and we ate our meal. Afterwards I tried to nap on the bed, but the kids were in full throttle with their show, and it was noisy.
From what I could gather, the 10-year-old girl was the queen and her 10-year-old cousin was her slave. She barked out orders to him and he mostly obeyed, although she had to get tough with him now and then. I'm not sure what role the 6-year-old was playing because from what I could tell, she mostly supported the queen, shouting out encouragement now and then, and just running around.
So I'm really not sure what they've really been up to the last couple of days but maybe they are trying to raise some money. Maybe I was overhearing dress-rehearsal and I will still get hit on to buy tickets to the real show. Or maybe once the seeds sprout, they'll try to sell me some plants. I have a feeling these children have a plan.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Who's cold around here?
The temperatures are much cooler than they were two weeks ago. Finally a relief from the oppressive heat we endured for quite a few months.
In fact, once the sun goes down I feel chilly. When we go out on the golf cart for a little drive, I put on my jacket and take along a small blanket to throw over my bare legs. Miguel? He goes out in his t-shirt, and claims he doesn't feel the cold.
However, everything gets reversed when we go to bed. I like to sleep with the breeze coming in through the doors and windows, and depending on the temperatures, I also like to use the ceiling fan (on low speed). Miguel likes everything closed up, he gets cold during the night.
So our bed looks like this:
My half is me, lying on top of the sheets, with little or no clothing.
Miguel's half is him, wearing a t-shirt, sleeping shorts, and wrapped in a fleece blanket.
When I was in Canada last week I bought a couple of nice soft fleece robes at Costco. Pierre Cardin, a very pretty blue color. Bought for our B&B guests to enjoy; I packed one on this trip and will bring the other one on my next trip.
I didn't even show the robe to Miguel. The robe was at the bottom of a pile of my own clothing that I'd unpacked, laying on the chair up in the bedroom.
Last night was quite chilly so the doors were closed, and the fan was off. With just one window open, there was no breeze but at least the room didn't feel stuffy.
I read in bed while Miguel took his bath. When he came out of the bathroom, he was wrapped in the new robe and a huge grin. Somehow he'd spotted that robe under the pile of clothes, and decided it was for him. I casually mentioned that the robe was for guests, but he had no intention of giving it up, so I let him keep it. I'll pick up another one when I'm there in a few weeks (or maybe they'll have them at Costco here in Cancun).
He slept in the robe all night.
What I want to know is this: he can't find his keys, or his glasses, or his tools, yet he can find something that he wasn't even supposed to know we had. How did he do that?
In fact, once the sun goes down I feel chilly. When we go out on the golf cart for a little drive, I put on my jacket and take along a small blanket to throw over my bare legs. Miguel? He goes out in his t-shirt, and claims he doesn't feel the cold.
However, everything gets reversed when we go to bed. I like to sleep with the breeze coming in through the doors and windows, and depending on the temperatures, I also like to use the ceiling fan (on low speed). Miguel likes everything closed up, he gets cold during the night.
So our bed looks like this:
My half is me, lying on top of the sheets, with little or no clothing.
Miguel's half is him, wearing a t-shirt, sleeping shorts, and wrapped in a fleece blanket.
When I was in Canada last week I bought a couple of nice soft fleece robes at Costco. Pierre Cardin, a very pretty blue color. Bought for our B&B guests to enjoy; I packed one on this trip and will bring the other one on my next trip.
I didn't even show the robe to Miguel. The robe was at the bottom of a pile of my own clothing that I'd unpacked, laying on the chair up in the bedroom.
Last night was quite chilly so the doors were closed, and the fan was off. With just one window open, there was no breeze but at least the room didn't feel stuffy.
I read in bed while Miguel took his bath. When he came out of the bathroom, he was wrapped in the new robe and a huge grin. Somehow he'd spotted that robe under the pile of clothes, and decided it was for him. I casually mentioned that the robe was for guests, but he had no intention of giving it up, so I let him keep it. I'll pick up another one when I'm there in a few weeks (or maybe they'll have them at Costco here in Cancun).
He slept in the robe all night.
What I want to know is this: he can't find his keys, or his glasses, or his tools, yet he can find something that he wasn't even supposed to know we had. How did he do that?
Friday, November 13, 2009
Peeee-Ewwwww
The downside of living in a humid climate, especially after a lot of rain, is dealing with the smell of humid stuff. Stuff that got wet and stayed wet for too long.
The morning after I got back I was sweeping in the hall. I detected a stinky smell right around the dresser. I kneeled down to check it out, thinking maybe the cats had pushed a dead gecko under there or something. I couldn't decide where the smell was coming from, so I kept on sweeping. Once in a while I'd drift through the hallway to take a whiff, but it seemed clear. Hmmm...
Wednesday I went to Cancun. As Miguel was driving me into town on the golf cart, he blew through a huge puddle and I got sprayed from head to toe. The water was not sewer water, but I think it had a funky smell. My feet stayed damp, and by the time I was nearly done running my errands with Luis, our taxi driver, I realized that my feet were smelling. I covered them up with my tote bag while in the cab, hoping Luis would not notice. When I got home I forgot about my feet, but that night I had a bath and gave them a good scrub.
I should have scrubbed my crocs as well, as they were the real problem - more than my feet. So after my morning bath yesterday I tossed the crocs out onto the back terrace along with my other smelly crocs and dug up a new pair of sandals. For good measure I sprinkled my feet with baby powder.
Yesterday morning I was sweeping again and this time the smell was around the bedroom door. There was nothing there. Finally I sniffed the broom. Phew! It smelled like stinky feet. I bet when the drain backed up when the winds pushed the water backwards, that the broom was sitting in that water in the laundry room. Later Miguel confirmed it - yes, my precious broom, the one I hide from the cleaning lady, had been violated. I placed the broom by the back door, intending to give it a good wash later in the day.
I decided to take a rest in the hammock. Miguel had moved the hammocks inside during all the rain last week, but they were damp and he just left them in a ball on the table. I had put them out to dry and thought no more of it. Until I got into the hammock. Then I was overpowered by the smell of stinky feet. HOW could my feet still smell? They were clean, and they were baby-powder fresh!
The smell was the hammock. How could Miguel have laid in there reading his paper? I think my nose is more sensitive, I couldn't take it. So I took the hammock and dunked it in soapy water in the tub, and then hung it back up to dry, hoping the fresh air and clean water had taken care of the odor.
Later I was in the kitchen making stew. There was a rotten smell near the sink. I thought it must be food caught in the trap so dumped bleach down the drain. As I peeled potatoes I continued to smell the odor, and finally tracked it down to a rotting pepper sitting in the colander. I moved the pepper to our recycling plate, intending to take out all the scraps after I'd finished the potatoes.
This morning as I swept in the kitchen I smelled it again. "I really must put some acid down that drain", I thought. But the smell seemed to be under the counter, not in the sink. So I sniffed away but could not locate the exact area of the smell. Finally I realized it was the chili pepper that was still sitting on the plate, buried in potato peelings that I'd forgotten to take out the night before. Out went the plate, and whew - that one is finally resolved.
While I was out dumping the scraps, I checked the hammock. Still stinky. So now it is soaking in a tub full of soap and Flash - the cinnamon smelling red stuff. Later I will take it upstairs and put it in the sun to dry. If that doesn't fix the hammock, nothing will.
So I'm off to wash my shoes and the broom. And then our house should be back to smelling nice and fresh. I hope!
The morning after I got back I was sweeping in the hall. I detected a stinky smell right around the dresser. I kneeled down to check it out, thinking maybe the cats had pushed a dead gecko under there or something. I couldn't decide where the smell was coming from, so I kept on sweeping. Once in a while I'd drift through the hallway to take a whiff, but it seemed clear. Hmmm...
Wednesday I went to Cancun. As Miguel was driving me into town on the golf cart, he blew through a huge puddle and I got sprayed from head to toe. The water was not sewer water, but I think it had a funky smell. My feet stayed damp, and by the time I was nearly done running my errands with Luis, our taxi driver, I realized that my feet were smelling. I covered them up with my tote bag while in the cab, hoping Luis would not notice. When I got home I forgot about my feet, but that night I had a bath and gave them a good scrub.
I should have scrubbed my crocs as well, as they were the real problem - more than my feet. So after my morning bath yesterday I tossed the crocs out onto the back terrace along with my other smelly crocs and dug up a new pair of sandals. For good measure I sprinkled my feet with baby powder.
Yesterday morning I was sweeping again and this time the smell was around the bedroom door. There was nothing there. Finally I sniffed the broom. Phew! It smelled like stinky feet. I bet when the drain backed up when the winds pushed the water backwards, that the broom was sitting in that water in the laundry room. Later Miguel confirmed it - yes, my precious broom, the one I hide from the cleaning lady, had been violated. I placed the broom by the back door, intending to give it a good wash later in the day.
I decided to take a rest in the hammock. Miguel had moved the hammocks inside during all the rain last week, but they were damp and he just left them in a ball on the table. I had put them out to dry and thought no more of it. Until I got into the hammock. Then I was overpowered by the smell of stinky feet. HOW could my feet still smell? They were clean, and they were baby-powder fresh!
The smell was the hammock. How could Miguel have laid in there reading his paper? I think my nose is more sensitive, I couldn't take it. So I took the hammock and dunked it in soapy water in the tub, and then hung it back up to dry, hoping the fresh air and clean water had taken care of the odor.
Later I was in the kitchen making stew. There was a rotten smell near the sink. I thought it must be food caught in the trap so dumped bleach down the drain. As I peeled potatoes I continued to smell the odor, and finally tracked it down to a rotting pepper sitting in the colander. I moved the pepper to our recycling plate, intending to take out all the scraps after I'd finished the potatoes.
This morning as I swept in the kitchen I smelled it again. "I really must put some acid down that drain", I thought. But the smell seemed to be under the counter, not in the sink. So I sniffed away but could not locate the exact area of the smell. Finally I realized it was the chili pepper that was still sitting on the plate, buried in potato peelings that I'd forgotten to take out the night before. Out went the plate, and whew - that one is finally resolved.
While I was out dumping the scraps, I checked the hammock. Still stinky. So now it is soaking in a tub full of soap and Flash - the cinnamon smelling red stuff. Later I will take it upstairs and put it in the sun to dry. If that doesn't fix the hammock, nothing will.
So I'm off to wash my shoes and the broom. And then our house should be back to smelling nice and fresh. I hope!
This is It!
I was in Canada last Saturday. My daughter wasn't working that day, and for once I was not rushed to accomplish a ton of things, including shopping, to prepare for my return to Mexico. This 'not working' thing is just great - it didn't take long to lose the sense of pressure to do too many things in too short a time.
Honestly, I think there is a lot to be said for one parent staying home to take care of the home front. We are all pulled in so many directions all the time, no wonder we snap and have relationship issues. We don't have time or energy for relationships! (maybe I should just speak for myself...).
My life has become a mass of chaos and disorganization and clutter (probably redundant words here, but you get the drift). Too much travel, too many homes, too little free time, and even less energy, have led to this current state of affairs. Anything that I had to deal with outside of the day-to-day pressures became a big stressor (i.e., preparing the paperwork for Miguel's visa). It was hard to sit down and focus on just one task. Multi-tasking became the normal way of life, and although I'm very good at it, it created stress I didn't really need.
So - for now I am loving the more relaxed day-to-day living, and having the time to wade through the chaos. I had my list of priorities, and since I've been back I've taken care of my FM3 renewal and Miguel's visa application. In the case of the visa, it's now out of our hands - if he gets denied, we'll just drop it. The requirements are unrealistic for a lot of Mexicans, so Miguel could not provide everything that was asked for. I doubt that anyone growing up in Canada (unless they are 75 or older), would understand how different life is here in Mexico for the majority of the population so I'm not sure the people doing the review and approval would understand that what they are reviewing is as complete as it can ever be. It's obvious by the list of paperwork requested that the Canadian government doesn't have a clue.
Anyway, back to last Saturday. For once I had time to enjoy some time with my daughter. "This is It" was playing at the local theater. Jen, who has danced all her life, is very familiar with Michael Jackson's music and has performed some of his numbers on stage, including the original choreography of "Thriller" (one of my favorite performances done by her studio).
So we went and watched the film (movie isn't the right word, it was not that). It was a matinee and the theater was almost empty - we had perfect center seats without anyone's big puffy head of hair blocking part of the screen.
We both thoroughly enjoyed the film. I don't know what the reviews are saying, but from my point of view, I think they did a great job portraying Michael's creativity, his passion, his talent, and his energy. The news media has always shown Miguel as a fragile, feminine oddball (at least in later years), so I was pleasantly surprised to see Michael up there dancing and singing just like he did in the early years. Perhaps he was in pain, I don't know, it didn't show. I chose to forget all the hype about his personal life and just enjoy the masterpiece of what Michael's concert would have been. It would have been fabulous!
For those who don't know, the film is not a movie, nor is it a documentary. It is a compilation of film taken during rehearsal for the concert. It shows the staging, the choreography, and the supporting performers (dancers, singers, musicians). You feel like you are watching the concert but have the benefit of seeing how it all was put together, and you get to see a lot of Michael's contributions to the final product. His was the final word, and everyone working with him gave him what he asked of them. There was a definite sense of love and respect for Michael - he really seemed to have a team that understood and appreciated his art. I got the sense that nobody worked harder than Michael Jackson - he performed, but he also directed and created.
I found out that "This is It" is playing at a local theater here in Cancun. I went online and was able to reserve tickets for a show - didn't have to pay, just reserved with an email address. Miguel loves Michael's music and I can't wait for him to see the movie. I think it is a loving tribute to a brilliant man, and will hopefully help people remember Michael as the musical talent he was. For me, Michael Jackson was 'IT', nobody else comes close to putting it all together as he did. It's ironic that because of his death more people will see his 'concert' than would have otherwise. So for those of you who love Michael Jackson's music and his dance moves - go and watch the film. You won't regret it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
P.S. I just found this review and feel it most closely describes my impressions as well. Here for your reference: Review of "This is It".
Honestly, I think there is a lot to be said for one parent staying home to take care of the home front. We are all pulled in so many directions all the time, no wonder we snap and have relationship issues. We don't have time or energy for relationships! (maybe I should just speak for myself...).
My life has become a mass of chaos and disorganization and clutter (probably redundant words here, but you get the drift). Too much travel, too many homes, too little free time, and even less energy, have led to this current state of affairs. Anything that I had to deal with outside of the day-to-day pressures became a big stressor (i.e., preparing the paperwork for Miguel's visa). It was hard to sit down and focus on just one task. Multi-tasking became the normal way of life, and although I'm very good at it, it created stress I didn't really need.
So - for now I am loving the more relaxed day-to-day living, and having the time to wade through the chaos. I had my list of priorities, and since I've been back I've taken care of my FM3 renewal and Miguel's visa application. In the case of the visa, it's now out of our hands - if he gets denied, we'll just drop it. The requirements are unrealistic for a lot of Mexicans, so Miguel could not provide everything that was asked for. I doubt that anyone growing up in Canada (unless they are 75 or older), would understand how different life is here in Mexico for the majority of the population so I'm not sure the people doing the review and approval would understand that what they are reviewing is as complete as it can ever be. It's obvious by the list of paperwork requested that the Canadian government doesn't have a clue.
Anyway, back to last Saturday. For once I had time to enjoy some time with my daughter. "This is It" was playing at the local theater. Jen, who has danced all her life, is very familiar with Michael Jackson's music and has performed some of his numbers on stage, including the original choreography of "Thriller" (one of my favorite performances done by her studio).
So we went and watched the film (movie isn't the right word, it was not that). It was a matinee and the theater was almost empty - we had perfect center seats without anyone's big puffy head of hair blocking part of the screen.
We both thoroughly enjoyed the film. I don't know what the reviews are saying, but from my point of view, I think they did a great job portraying Michael's creativity, his passion, his talent, and his energy. The news media has always shown Miguel as a fragile, feminine oddball (at least in later years), so I was pleasantly surprised to see Michael up there dancing and singing just like he did in the early years. Perhaps he was in pain, I don't know, it didn't show. I chose to forget all the hype about his personal life and just enjoy the masterpiece of what Michael's concert would have been. It would have been fabulous!
For those who don't know, the film is not a movie, nor is it a documentary. It is a compilation of film taken during rehearsal for the concert. It shows the staging, the choreography, and the supporting performers (dancers, singers, musicians). You feel like you are watching the concert but have the benefit of seeing how it all was put together, and you get to see a lot of Michael's contributions to the final product. His was the final word, and everyone working with him gave him what he asked of them. There was a definite sense of love and respect for Michael - he really seemed to have a team that understood and appreciated his art. I got the sense that nobody worked harder than Michael Jackson - he performed, but he also directed and created.
I found out that "This is It" is playing at a local theater here in Cancun. I went online and was able to reserve tickets for a show - didn't have to pay, just reserved with an email address. Miguel loves Michael's music and I can't wait for him to see the movie. I think it is a loving tribute to a brilliant man, and will hopefully help people remember Michael as the musical talent he was. For me, Michael Jackson was 'IT', nobody else comes close to putting it all together as he did. It's ironic that because of his death more people will see his 'concert' than would have otherwise. So for those of you who love Michael Jackson's music and his dance moves - go and watch the film. You won't regret it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
P.S. I just found this review and feel it most closely describes my impressions as well. Here for your reference: Review of "This is It".
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