Archive | March, 2025

Time For An Adventure

30 Mar

With the majority of our outings of late to the doctor, dentist and physical therapist, I needed a bit of adventure. The Free Zone is a 28.5 acre duty-free shopping area between Mexico and our neighbor Belize, about 30 minutes from our door. It is known for cheap clothing, alcohol, perfume and household goods from China, Hong Kong and godknowswhere.

I am not a shopper. My current limited mobility isn’t the only thing that keeps me from walking the streets and perusing the aisles. I did however need a few things that I’ve been unable to find in Bacalar and neighboring Chetumal.

I haven’t been to the Free Zone in years, but the last time I bought a handful of gauzy cotton dresses that are great for tropical weather. They’ve all been worn out of existence and turned into rags. Time for replacements. There is also an international grocery store that carries Indian spices and many uncommon things (uncommon to this part of Mexico). I fulfilled my quest to find miso (Japanese) and black salt (Indian).

Three for $10.

I drove into the Free Zone and immediately found a parking space, which is unheard of. I found my dresses and then used a tuk tuk to get around. It beat me trying to maneuver in unfamiliar territory.

20p or $1.00 minimum

The adventure was complete with lunch at a hole-in-the-wall Indian restaurant and google directions back across the Mexican border. A quick once over by immigration and back on the road to Bacalar and an uneventful ride home.

I’m not sure what I ate, but it took some convincing that I didn’t want meat. The dish was very spicy.

We like uneventful.

DOS DORTAS

I Give Up

23 Mar

I used to confidently declare in any medical appointment that I am here for a second opinion because MINE is the first! Like many influencers today, I had strong ideas and thought I knew it all. You can imagine that my attitude didn’t go over well.

I frequently refused antibiotics, routine dental X-rays, and assorted tests. Not this week however.

An X-ray machine the size of an old portable radio. Amazing! I used to work in radiology and the portable machines were six feet tall and weighed hundreds of pounds.

Maybe it’s because I’m getting older, am tired or just don’t care. My hands are in the air. I give up, I surrender, I quit.

I went to the dentist this week to get my teeth cleaned. Pretty routine right? I was told that I had multiple cavities and a molar that might need a root canal or to be extracted! WTF! I sat for an hour and got half the cavities filled. A few days later I saw an endodontist, young enough to be my granddaughter, to discover that I had an infected tooth and indeed needed a root canal, just not the tooth the dentist thought.

Root Canal

I again sat for over an hour with my nose, mouth and chin numb. The tooth that started all this may need to come out eventually but is ok for now. Sigh.

None of this makes any sense to me. I don’t drink soda or eat sweets. I have a fancy electric toothbrush that I use religiously. Is it the water? My soft bones? Hereditary? IDK but I quit.

Truthfully I no longer claim to know anything about anything. Technology is moving so quickly that it’s extremely hard to keep up. And I no longer want to.

DOS TORTAS

A Father Extraordinaire

16 Mar

My father was raised by the Boy Scouts. His own father bailed when he was young, and Dad found his people in a sleeping bag, around a campfire and under the stars. He taught me preparedness, first aid, and to love and respect the environment. “Always leave things cleaner than you found them”. We kids spent a lot of time picking up trash, cigarette butts and bottle caps.

Eighteen years old during the Great Depression
On vacation, visiting Fort Ticonderoga in far north New York State.

Dad was a blue collar worker and as our clan grew in the 1950’s we became a family of campers. Five kids piled into our huge Chevy wagon, sometimes including a few cousins and always Fritz, the dachshund. Daddy had his own little scout troop and he loved it.

Our car was blue.

Dad’s factory closed down the first two weeks of August every year. We borrowed a huge canvass tent and my mom managed to buy a camping stove and lantern. We traveled up and down the East coast of the US from New York and Virginia to the beaches of North Carolina. Believe me, camping on the beach takes a special skill.

Cape Hatteras, North Carolina

To give my mom a break, Dad did most of the cooking. Preparing food over a campfire was a challenge my father embraced. He could bake a birthday cake by lowering a cast iron pot into hot coals. He cleverly placed a few pebbles inside to balance a pan of cake batter. The pot was called a Dutch oven, and it worked perfectly.

My brother and I at the New Jersey Shore. Same tent.

I have so many memories of the games we played while driving down the highway. They were designed to entertain without devices and to prevent the incessant barrage of, “are we there yet?” He sang in his baritone voice, songs that I later realized were from his childhood scout troop.

Daddy knew every verse of this folk song.

https://youtu.be/8ZlpNVECeaw?si=FJ_dt_iejc60kNBd

My dad loved parades, holidays, especially Halloween and family vacations. We always won prizes from his imaginative costumes dreamed up at the last minute from wigs, face paint and long underwear pulled from a box that was kept in the attic.

After retirement on a rafting trip with my mother.

My childhood was filled with memories that even now bring a tear to think about. He was one-of-a-kind and those simple times are long gone.

DOS TORTAS

Culinary Bacalar

9 Mar

The timing of many of the cultural events that happen in Bacalar don’t work for us. I totally understand scheduling performances for the evening. We live in the tropics, and most of the time, IT’S HOT. Waiting for the sun to go down invites breezes. The trouble is, the announcement says, 7pm and nothing gets started until 9. Being the idiots we are, we still show up at 7.

Caribbean Food Festival Starts at 4? Let’s go!
A unique food truck
Hand woven bags.
How’s this for grilling pineapple?

Besides the crowd and too much walking for me, it was good to get out, try something new, and be home before dark.

Welcome to Bacalar

DOS TORTAS

Not If I Don’t Want To

2 Mar

Years ago I would visit my mom when she lived outside beautiful Asheville, North Carolina. Mom’s place was small so I stayed with her friend Barbara who was kind enough to offer a room. Mom and Barbara were Meals On Wheels buddies. Every morning Barbara and I chatted while walking in her neighborhood among the tall pine trees near the Blue Ridge Parkway. The birds greeted us and sometimes we saw deer in that bucolic setting.

My beautiful mom.

One morning we were walking along and I was probably doing my usual whiny complaining. My life with an aging mother, three children, a partner and a full time job felt full up to my eyeballs in obligation.

Barbara very calmly turned to me and stated, “I never do anything I don’t want to”. I looked at her incredulously allowing the concept to roll around my tired brain. “But how?” I stammered.

https://reallove.com/identifying-victimhood/

What she told me has stayed with me my entire life. “Either I don’t do a thing, or I do what I want or I decide I want to.”

As a young woman, it took me awhile to wrap my brain around not acting like a victim. I still find complaining creeping into my words and thoughts but do my best to put on the brakes as soon as I catch myself. It takes practice to DECIDE I want to take my MIL to the doctor, take the car for service, or get my hearing checked, all things on my agenda for the week. Knowing I can say “no” helps, but there are always those pesky consequences. Better to decide I want to.

DOS TORTAS

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