When people come to visit us in the jungle of southern Mexico I admit to being less than understanding with their inability to deal with the heat. Winter is the best time to visit Bacalar. Sometimes one even needs a light jacket or shawl! It’s really not that bad. Ha!
Now Alaska is the exact opposite, even in the late summer. Lisa’s cousin walks around the house in a t-shirt while I look like a homeless person wearing all the layers I brought with me.
The view from our bedroom window the evening we arrived. Denali (highest peak in North America) on the right made an appearance after a few days.First time seeing a glacier.The sky is magical. Cook Inlet is on the horizon.
A rugged environment for an old gold mind.
The art museum in Anchorage was amazing.
What an wild and wonderful place is Alaska. I can’t imagine living here. I guess like Bacalar, it takes acclimation. We will be home Monday after almost six weeks traveling. I miss my dogs.
Lisa was released from the hospital in Tacoma, Washington on Monday with a fistful of antibiotics and admonition to rest. The doctor was quite impressed with the speed of her recovery and sent us on our way to continue our vacation. Lisa had been in the hospital five days with a kidney infection.
Amtrack train station
We skedaddled from the hospital and managed to make the train to Seattle and from there a bus to Vancouver. Crossing the Canadian border was where the adventure really began.
Crossing into Canada.
There were two unmarked high tech tour buses waiting in line in front of us and three behind us. Our driver commented that they were likely a band heading to Vancouver for an upcoming performance.
Lisa’s narration of traveling with the band.
Out of curiosity I pulled out my phone for a quick google. I discovered that The Chicks, (formerly known as The Dixie Chicks) were playing the next night at Rogers Arena, not far from our hotel. With confirmation and a “wink wink” from the border guards, we got excited. Even the bus driver pulled out his phone and began playing “Wide Open Spaces”.
The concert was awesome!! The arena was packed with a plethora of boots, cowboy/girl hats and sequins. We had great seats and had so much fun.
A packed arena with energy through the roof.
Vancouver itself didn’t disappoint. The first morning I ambled down the street wide-eyed. I felt like someone just released from prison.
View from our hotel.
Unknowingly we were staying in the queer section of town. There were rainbows everywhere. The variety of restaurants alone made my head spin, Himalayan, Greek, Korean, Japanese, Vietnamese, all on the same block.
We left Northern California for Seattle, Washington on Monday. We were on to cooler climes and a visit with friends before heading to Vancouver Canada.
My daughter and twin granddaughters.
Unfortunately things took an unexpected detour.
Lisa got sick and ended up in the hospital. A nasty UTI (urinary tract infection) which traveled to her kidneys, has her with an IV pumping antibiotics into her arm until Tuesday. So much for Vancouver. At this point we’re grateful she’s alive and healing. She was one sick puppy.
Near my hotel is an art museum with Chihuly glass.Native artists and subject matter.Powerful images from native artists.
It’s been a crazy week. We literally opened google maps and went to the nearest hospital. We lucked out. The doctors and staff have been amazing. We are so very grateful.
Off to visit our daughter and family in Northern California. Taking a bit of a break from blogging for awhile.
Grandkids starting their first day of school. How they’ve grown!A day hanging out with my daughter. Eat, pray, get a pedicure!The town square in Healdsburg and some art museums.Only in California.Some random kids enjoying the freezing Pacific Ocean Luna and Stella enjoying time with our house sitters.
We leave Monday for Seattle, Washington. Lisa is already freezing. 😆
When I was about eighteen my older brother married Ronnie. She was a petite redhead with huge fiery curly hair. I loved her dearly. With four brothers, she was the big sister I never had.
In 1974 I returned to the US from a year abroad, studying Spanish in Mexico. I felt uncertain as to the direction my life should take. A teacher I admired had casually suggested I go to Austin and finish my education at the University of Texas. Not having a better idea, I applied, was accepted and got on a plane. Ah the spontaneity and optimism of youth.
University of Texas tower.
I tell the story in more detail as to how I ended up in Austin at Down To Our Skivvies
Austin in August 2023
I’m not sure what I expected in Texas, in August. It was hot as hell, like I swore you could fry eggs on the sidewalk. I was a fish out of water. I called home to the East Coast and talked to Ronnie. I was crying, homesick and wanting to throw in the towel. Nothing in Austin was familiar and I had no one to turn to. Instead of getting the sympathy I sought, I got a kick in the pants.
Ronnie told me to stay and figure it out! In a way she told me that I could do it. Her confidence in me gave ME confidence in me. And she was right.
There are so many forks in the road that can direct the rest of our lives. Staying in Austin was a big one for me. I found help, made friends, found housing, independence and a whole new life that lead to where I am today. I’m not sure I ever thanked Ronnie. She and my brother separated a few years later and I never saw her again. Hang on to people when you can. You never know when advice given or received can completely change someone’s life.
This week Lisa and I are off on a long awaited and meticulously planned trip. She left on Thursday to travel with her mom to Cancun and on to Southern California. I am traveling through Mexico City to see my daughter in Northern California. We will meet up in a couple of weeks.
Stella supervising.
My last night in Bacalar, I tossed and turned, restlessly anticipating the morning’s departure, I finally fell into a deep sleep and had the most vivid dream. In the dream I had overslept and missed my flight entirely. In that way that dreams can be, I stumbled madly over and over with my iPad, attempting to somehow reschedule the missed flight which of course was impossible.
Ten minutes before my six a.m. alarm sounded, Luna began whining to be let out. Waking, to my relief and frustration, I had not missed the flight, but I wanted to strangle the dog. Argh.
Luna, Love her and hate her,
Wonderful house sitters are in place and I am traveling to cooler climate. And while I’ll miss them, (NOT! well maybe a little), there will be no dogs. Stay tuned.
I started graduate school at the University of Texas in 1994 at age forty-two. The day was exactly twenty years after I had walked onto the UT campus for the first time to get my under graduate degree in 1974.
The famous University of Texas Tower lit up for having won a football game.
I had been a stay-at-home mom, caring for three children and helping our family survive on one income. But events changed and I needed to get back into the world. I needed a job. Computers were relatively new and I was low on confidence and unsure as to how to find my way.
Graduate school seemed like the obvious answer. I did the required prerequisite class in statistics at community college. I was the oldest class member in all situations but I persevered and grew in confidence. My brain worked just fine albeit a bit slower. I had to take the GREs (Graduate Record Examination), a standardized entrance exam in math and English. I hadn’t had algebra since high school. A prep class, a lot of studying, crossed fingers and I passed with a more than adequate score. Success breeds success!
When Lisa and I left Texas for Bacalar in 2013 we had to make a lot of decisions as to what we would keep and what items were sold or given away.
Packed
For some reason, I held onto my old graduate school term papers. Writing them had taught me so much. I learned how to do research, spending hours in library stacks. Today’s students would laugh at how things were done in the “old days”.
Dot matrix printer.My major was Health Education. My focus was adolescents.
These term papers were the beginning of honing my skills as a writer. Best of all were the comments from teachers. Where else does someone of import write “Well done”, appreciating the extraordinary effort of a middle-aged mom returning to academia? I have held onto these papers for almost thirty years. Time to let them go. Today I can look back and pat myself on the back and say “well done”. I no longer need confirmation from out-dated college term papers.
This week, in an almost empty gym, a young woman ambled up and asked me in SPANISH, “have you always exercised?” She had blond hair and a braid down her back the width of my arm. She’s Colombian and has lived in Bacalar four years. I was thrilled by her question.
Nevys
I think many of the locals that work out at the gym think that I don’t speak Spanish, which is barrier number one to conversation. Barrier number two is that I don’t socialize. I’m not chatty, I tend to focus on my work-out, nose to the grindstone. And then there’s the biggest barrier, I’m old.
71 and not getting any younger.
I have worked on overcoming these barriers, except for the old part. There’s nothing much I can do about that. Research clearly shows that a contributing factor to longevity is having close personal relationships, right up there with diet and exercise. In Mexico it is thought rude not to greet everyone with, “buenos días” upon arrival. I make a habit of looking at people and greeting them every morning. There’s been little change in camaraderie however, until this week.
15 months progress. Slow but steady.
I know I’ve talked about this topic before. It is not easy for me but I’m determined. I asked the receptionist her name and now use it when I arrive each day and this week I made a new friend. I will attempt to nourish this seedling. Wish me luck.
She lived across the street from us. Terry was born in South Austin in 1933 and bought her house when she married Bill. They raised two kids there and when we met her she was a widow living alone, her adult children were long grown. Our older tree-lined neighborhood was an Austin treasure with houses built in the early 60’s. It used to be that the only way to buy a house there was when someone died. We got our house because the previous owner moved to a nursing home.
We kept an eye on all the elders in our neighborhood. Terry’s house once flooded. She had a dry creek behind her yard that turned out not to be so dry one spring downpour. Lisa built a French drain to channel the water away from her house. That was the only time she asked for help. She was an independent old coot and we loved her.
My favorite story about Terry was her love for a pink flowering vine called Queen’s Wreath that grew on the side of her house. The butterflies also loved it and gravitated to its sweet nectar. The trouble was, when the butterflies lighted on the flowers, the petals fell off. One day I came upon Terry muttering, “damn butterflies” as she shood them off her beloved flowers.
Queen’s Wreath
A neighbor found Terry unconscious in her carport one day. Her car door was open so she was clearly about to run errands. Her head was bleeding. We never saw her again. Her children whisked her away. We didn’t have a relationship with them and we got complacent. The time for Terry to make her own decisions had run out.
Some time afterward there was a flurry of activity at her place. A couch was carried to the curb. Lisa inquired and was gifted the couch. They were emptying out her house to sell it. Terry was living with her daughter.
We knew the couch was brand new. It took days of airing and scrubbing. Terry also had a big floofy white cat. We still have the couch. As a matter of fact I’m sitting on it right now. Luna gives up her spot now and then.
We left Austin September 2013.
One day I was thinking about Terry and found her obituary. It made me sad yet brought back good memories. And whenever we find ourselves complaining about some inconsequential thing, we remember “damn butterflies” and think of Terry and smile.
The 1950s in the United States was a time of recovery. Soldiers came home from war, bought little houses, married and had families. There were five children in our little house. I was the only girl.
My parents lived here when I was born.My youngest brother had not been born yet.
It was a time of much less fear than there is today. I walked by myself to kindergarten in the fire station a half mile from my house. I loved cookies and milk, listening to stories and drawing. One day the teacher put on lively music and each child was to select a musical instrument to march with around the room. Nothing appealed to me so I choose the baton and stepped up to lead the band. That move got me labeled bossy, and wanting to be in charge, not a good look for a little girl in those days.
My mother braided my hair every day.
On my daily walk home from kindergarten, I passed a house with a large, exuberant German shepherd dog. I barely breathed walking by that house. One day the dog was loose and came charging toward me. He was almost as tall as I was. Instinct kicked in. I glued my arms to my sides and stood like a statue. The dog circled and sniffed and calmly walked away. I knew better than to run but I sure wanted to. I was so proud of myself! I had looked fear in the eyes and survived.
Four children in six years.
I’m not sure where I was going with this story. I wish I could say that fearlessness stayed with me my whole life, but it did not. It took being an older woman to come into that fearless part of myself. Today I would never stand for the bullying, and abuse I put up with at home, in school and on the job. I have a life that I am proud of with no regrets. it is good to be alive. I looked fear in the eyes and survived.
the adventures of dos tortas 
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