Watching the US Supreme Court nomination hearings this week of Judge Katanji Brown Jackson has been both inspirational and emotional. She gives hope to all women, young people, and anyone who has dreams for a better more egalitarian world.
Reading today that Ginni Thomas, wife of sitting Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas tried in December 2020 to influence the overthrow of US elections made me sick to my stomach. What the heck!
Every day is a new beginning.
My personal takeaway this week is what an anonymous passerby whispered to Katanji Brown as a young, confused Harvard student, “persevere.” I’m so glad Judge Brown did.
When we retired to southern Mexico seven years ago, the village of Bacalar was quiet and peaceful. Three cars slowing down was a traffic jam. We used to listen to the stories of dirt roads and no gas stationsfrom the expats who have been here twenty years. You would have thought we’d have seen the writing on the wall.
All roads lead from Bacalar.
In the last two years, as growth has exploded, some good things have happened. Well, at least some pot holes are filled. Slowly roads were paved and with the improvements I noticed something that I found unusual. Roads around town became one-way streets. The odd thing is that rather than pointing out which way TO go, the street signs direct traffic which way NOT to go. It messes with my brain, but this week I think I found out why. There are anomalies in Spanish, not found in English, that may explain.
Don’t turn left.
Menos mal, literally “less bad”. means a good thing in Spanish.
Menos mal que, means “it’s a good thing that.”
So something that is good is described by the degree of badness that it has.
Echar (to throw) de menos, less or badly means to miss
Te echo de menos means “I miss you”.
Also, telling time is stated by subtracting quarters of the hour. For example,
Son las cinco, it is five o’clock, menos cuarto, less fifteen minutes or 4:45. In English we would say that it’s fifteen minutes TO five.
Perhaps other languages use subtraction rather than addition to life in general, ie which way NOT to go or the degree of negative a thing is to determine it’s benefit. If anyone can shed light on this observation, I would love to hear it.
Rather than looking at the negative, behind, or ahead, left or right, we work on staying present. “Right here, right now.” Mexicans are also pretty good about living in the moment, when they’re NOT, not turning left. I’m not sure any of this makes sense, but have a good week.
I hate when the week winds down and I have nothing in mind for the blog. Somehow the Universe steps in, like it did today. (Saturday)
I went to the Scotiabank ATM in Chetumal to withdraw cash. One thing we’ve had to figure out living in Mexico is how to economically transfer dollars from our US retirement accounts to pesos for our every day living expenses. There are fees everywhere, bank limits on how much we can transfer, and the exchange rate to keep an eye on. At the moment, the dollar to peso is in our favor, so I thought I’d take out our limit on two different bank cards.
I had recently read that someone using the ATM at our bank had been robbed and I was being extra cautious and staying aware of my surroundings. I took one of the wads of pesos and slipped it into the side of my leggings. The rest was in my purse.
I proceeded into the mall where I bought a pair of house shoes and then walked to the opposite end to the supermercado and began to work my way through our long shopping list. We only go to this store every few weeks and mostly for specialty items (my particular brand of soy milk) we can’t get locally. I suddenly remembered the money in my legging and reached for it but it was gone.
Down near our dock. Gratitude gratitude.
“Stay calm, breathe.” I tried to talk myself down from panic. The wad of cash was 9,000 pesos or about $450 dollars. Was it worth a coronary? I didn’t think so. I continued with my shopping and prayed that whoever found the money, really needed it.
I saw a summer tanager this week (stock photo)
My mind was working overtime trying to figure out what could have happened. I thought perhaps I had dropped the money in the store where I bought the slippers. I headed in that direction pushing my full grocery cart. Suddenly there was a commotion behind me and I turned to see money scattered everywhere and people rushing to pick it up. I realized it was my money, but how…?
Coati. A group ran in front of our car this week. We counted 31 adults and little ones. (Stock photo)
When I walked up and said that the money was mine, all the angels handed over the cash. I got back every peso. I had patted down the wrong leg when I thought the money was gone. The money had been falling from my pant leg as I walked along. Boy did I feel stupid. Mexican people pride themselves in their honesty. However 9,000 pesos could be two months salary to a day laborer. Hard to resist.
Life’s lessons can be painful at times. I’m glad this wasn’t worse than it was. Lesson learned.
I should have known when Lisa looked at me doe-eyed and said that I needed to “go look at this puppy”, what that really meant. We were getting a dog. All the expats in Bacalar, Mexico where we had retired (2015) told us that we would get a dog, or two. I had insisted no, we don’t want a dog. Silly me.
Luna aka Lunatic, will be turning seven at the beginning of the summer. It’s always hard to tell with Mexican street dogs or callejeros. The breed is dubious, but dogs tend to be scrappy, independent, food driven, and excellent additions to any family when properly socialized and trained.
A typical street dog in Mexico. Maybe Luna’s daddy?
Friends heard crying under their car, only to discover a puppy in a grocery bag. She was full of fleas and ticks and very skinny.
Such a sad little thing.
When we moved into our newly constructed house in Fall of 2015, we had a “no dogs on the furniture” policy. Upon returning from a visit to the US in 2019, we found Luna had become queen of the couch. Our house sitters unknowIngly gave her access and there was no going back. The couch is now her domain and covered in blankets.
Love that puppy belly.
Luna has never been a cuddly dog. She does love butt and ear scritches but on her own terms. Just don’t get near her with your feet! She will grumble and growl, not in an aggressive way, but more like a shots fired over the bow sort of warning. Luna and I have had conversations about how she is extremely privileged and why on earth is she put off by feet anywhere in her vicinity, but to no avail. Sigh.
Luna loves a boat ride.Her Majesty taking in some rays.
Other than her feet aversion, Luna is a very good girl. She has a big, deep voice which lets passers by think that she means business, which is why people have dogs in Mexico I guess. They are excellent door bells and protection. It was one of our better decisions.
Two years ago we adopted Stela, a blind pug. I had never been around a pug and had a lot to learn about their quirky nature. One skill she has is to be asleep on the couch, snoring loudly and on her feet a moment later when someone says one of the magic words, outside, potty, snacks, or walk. She’s a zero to a hundred in the blink of an eye kind of gal. Sometimes life is like that too.
Stela loves her pillow.
Last weekend I was blissfully returning from kayaking on Lake Bacalar, Mexico,where we live. I was anticipating the week leading up to my seventieth birthday, and in one misstep, I was sailing off the dock, landing on a pile of rocks, and screaming for my life. No bones were broken but doctor’s orders has me off my feet for 2-4 weeks. Zero to a hundred, but not in a good way.
I fell to the left of the kayak.
On Tuesday, our housekeeper of six years announced that she is pregnant with baby number five and could no longer work for us. While we completely understand it is the loss of a relationship that we were totally unprepared for. As much as I think that the people who work for us are not friends, the flood of tears said something different.
The husband of a friend and former neighbor from Texas lost his battle with cancer on top of the loss of our dear friend Suze the week before (Death Knocks) also to cancer.
On Sunday Lisa went to a celebration of life for her dear poker buddy Steve who died suddenly from Hepatitis C two years ago. He was a good guy.
Steve, Lisa’s Bacalar poker buddy and our friend.
I guess the only way we can be prepared for loss is to live every day fully. Many people don’t make it to seventy. I have a feeling that sadness and gratitude are a part of the aging process no one much talks about. I think fondly of Delmy, Troy, Suze and Steve as I grieve their loss. As for me, I think youth is vastly overrated. My bruised body will heal. None of us will ever be younger than we are right this minute, so enjoy today, live life to the fullest and above all be grateful.
DOS TORTAS
AFTER YOU DIE Just so you know after you die I will not wonder why you didn’t do your dishes or how long it’s been since you cleaned your oven or microwave or mopped your floors or why there were dust bunnies under the bed and behind the door
After you’re gone I will not wonder how you could have allowed the piles of old mail to accumulate or why you saved so many bits and pieces of this and that or why you weren’t more goal-oriented and well-organized or why your refrigerator contained so many expired condiments
When you are absent from all your familiar places I vow to avoid wondering why you didn’t eat less and exercise more or why you waited so long to stop smoking or drinking or whatever else was simultaneously soothing and deadly or why you took whatever risk may seem to have hastened your exit or why you left so much unsaid unfinished or unresolved
I will only wonder if you knew how much you mattered to me just as you are as you were when we met in our temporary human disguises and laughed in the dressing room of the world at how funkily our skin suits fit at times
I will wonder and hope you knew you were beloved
I will wonder when we last hugged and whether you felt how our heartbeats converged and our bellies bumped like boats and then we both sighed
I read on CNN that Hillary Clinton had co-written a mystery book with a famous Canadian author I had never heard of, Louise Penny. Hillary’s book got mixed reviews, but the first of many books by Ms. Penny was exalted.
I have taken to audiobooks to encourage me to spend more time in the kitchen cooking, baking and cleaning up. With my chief dish washer still in Texas for a few more weeks, I need all the encouragement I can get. Cleaning up is not my forte.
I have not finished Still Life, but I’m enjoying it immensely. A few days ago, the main protagonists said something I had to replay several times. It was one of those lessons I needed to hear.
Of these four noteworthy statements, “I need help” seems to be the most difficult for me, followed in close second by, “I don’t know”. I freely admit that if we know everything, we learn nothing. I grew up in the time of women’s liberation and as a lesbian, asking for help, especially from men, was frowned upon.
Since taking note of this foible of mine, I have caught myself several times saying, “yes” to offers of help. The roof did not cave in, no one thought me less capable and I didn’t spend a lot of time trying to figure out something that was outside my realm of expertise. It also felt good to be vulnerable.
So which is your Achilles’ heel? They’re pretty easy to remember,
With Lisa showing progress and less pain after her recent back surgery, I thought a chance to tootle off to San Antonio for an art show might be possible.
The weather was predicted to be a perfect autumn Saturday and the Goddess did not disappoint. I decided to avoid the interstate and headed into the Texas Hill Country. Lovely vistas and rolling hills made for a far more beautiful drive between Austin and San Antonio, Texas, a two hour excursion.
I had to pull over to capture the predawn mist. The day was off to a lovely start.
My dear friend of over 45 years was participating in the Art Stroll. She is a wizard of fiber arts.
A whimsical fish pen case, a little sketching in my journal and an inviting art space.A fish theme perhaps?
My favorite part of the day was talking to fellow artists about their inspiration, materials and process. I have sold at similar events and understand the time consuming work that usually pays very little by the hour. Many shoppers seemed willing to pay for unique, one-of-a-kind items of jewelry, quilts, paintings, ceramics, etc. I certainly was.
I am always fascinated with impressionist/abstract work.
I also got to sit with Allison and catch up. She is the consummate fiber wizard and I love to see what she has created on her handy dandy sewing machine. I had such a good time ❤️.
I think we are not good at asking for help. Is it women? Men? US’ers or everyone? It is certainly not just me. In a recent conversation with my daughter, she mentioned an App for organizing meals for anyone who needs help. Her aunt and uncle were recently in a car accident, and a friend stepped up to organize meal delivery. MEAL TRAIN is quite popular, especially for moms with new babies. What a fabulous idea!
What struck me right between the eyes is that it never occurred to me to ask for help. My partner is scheduled for major surgery in less than two weeks and I am the chief cook and bottle washer. While I would love someone to step in and organize the whole thing for me, it hadn’t occurred to me until this minute that I could even ask someone to do that!
This week the sunrises were amazing in Bacalar.
I remember when my now 38 year old son was born. Two friends brought food for which I was supremely grateful. We visited for awhile as I sat on the couch nursing my newborn. After some time they made moves to leave, putting on their coats and standing at the front door. Before exiting one woman casually said, “is there anything else you need?” The dishes piled in the sink flashed before my eyes and I took a deep breath. “Could you do the dishes?” They looked at each other, took off their coats and a few minutes later, the kitchen was spotless. It was a tiny kitchen and they had four hands. It meant so much to me, and all I had to do was ask.
Perfect swimming days.
It has been eight years since we left Austin to retire to Mexico, yet I had no trouble listing twenty people who would probably be quite willing to lend a hand. I need to look into the whole thing and see how it works. One thing for certain is that I can use the help and if I don’t ask, I certainly won’t get it.
I was first introduced to yoga about 1972. I was studying at The University of The America’s in Cholula, Mexico where there was a young teacher who did asanas (yoga postures) out on the commons. He piqued my curiosity and I joined his weekly class.
1973 That’s me on the right celebrating my 21st birthday in Mexico.
Over the years, yoga has come in and out of my life. Before we left Austin for the wilds of Southern Mexico, I paid $99 a month and walked daily to the Yoga Yoga Studio for unlimited classes.
Downward Facing Dog variation with bone. Stela supervises.
Having scoliosis, the bones in my spine have realigned themselves and moved internal organs to places they wouldn’t ordinarily be. I am blessed to have been able to carry and birth three babies and live most of my life pain free. I believe that yoga has helped.
Stela waits for class to start.
I have lately returned to morning yoga practice. My body feels better for it. I’ve long given up having to prove anything. While structured class with a teacher would challenge and improve my flexibility, the times we live in don’t lend themselves to group practice. Online classes require watching a small screen and interferes with my peace. Since I am not a newbie I have a routine that works for me.
Stela masters child’s pose.
Yoga keeps my body flexible, relaxed and focused. It is something that makes a difference in my day to day life. I can see and feel the benefits which is motivation enough.
OMmmmmm. *dog yoga pictures taken by our lovely house sitter Lei Chen
Yoga is not for everyone but if you are so inclined I recommend it as a gift to your body and soul that will last a lifetime.
the adventures of dos tortas 
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