Take a peak this week into the lives of retired lesbians living in the jungle of southeast Mexico.
Lovely sunrise view from our roof.Full moon and lunar eclipse.
It’s been a bustling week which included an early morning lunar eclipse, a visit from our friend Michelle, and annual doctors’ check-ups (ortho, gastro, dermo and pulmo). Getting old is a full time job.
Stella loves Auntie Michelle
Michelle adds sparkle. She is an avid bird watcher, lovely conversationalist and pitches in with Mom, the dogs and household tasks. No drama just life divided by three instead of two.
Identified by our bird App. Lots of colorful visitors.
One doctor’s visit was particularly helpful, a second opinion on my leg. I went for a scan and will return on Monday to come up with a plan. He said I should not be in this much pain a year and a half later. I left hopeful.
Hopefully there is more bone growth since this last xray in December.
Unfortunately Michelle has returned home but the mental health break she gave us provided respite and a vow to take better care of ourselves, as we all need to do.
Unfortunately Stela will not be going on our trip to Austin, TX.
Our first trip north of the border in two and a half years has required much thought and planning. Beyond the usual acquisition and preparation of house sitters, the reservations for transportation (air and ground), arrangements for Lisa’s mom, housing and visiting family and friends, we have the fear of Covid swirling in the mix. How will things be different? God only knows.
Somehow lots of hearts have worked their way into our home.
A friend imparted wise words this week as I expressed my fear and anxiety. “If you are overly afraid of getting sick and dying, you will also not be living.” So we will be cautious and do our best to relax.
Our bathroom mural and outdoor reality.
Once the doors to the plane close, I will take a deep breath. Maybe I won’t wait until then. Breathe, relax, have fun.
As we plan our upcoming July trip to the US to attend to some long overdue medical issues, I find myself awash in fear and sadness. The reports of surging Covid leave me wanting to chuck it all and pull the covers over my head.
I found this timely reminder on Facebook this morning…
In times of trouble, carry on small steps. Do what you have to do, but a little at a time. Don’t think about the future, not even about what could happen tomorrow. Wash the dishes. Remove the dust. Write a letter. Make some soup. Do you see that? You are moving forward step by step. Take a step and stop. Get some rest. Compliment yourself. Take another step. Then another one. You won’t notice, but your steps will get bigger and bigger. Time will come when you can think about the future without crying. ❤️
(Elena Mikhalkova, ′′ The Room of Ancient Keys ′′)
We have arranged house sitters and bought airplane tickets. I am working on transportation and housing. One step, one day, one action at a time.
We learned this week of another dear friend whom we saw and hung out with in Austin pre-Covid, is in hospice. She has a neurological illness that the doctors can’t figure out. She was next on my list of friends to ask for space in her spare bedroom. Some days there just are no words.
On Wednesdays I make myself go to my drawing group. It is a brief foray out of the house, that provides social interaction and a break from the sadness. Plus I get to draw naked people! I can see the improvement in my drawing. It’s the little things, the small steps.
Lisa got her second shot. We are now both fully vaccinated. Another step.
Brave by Sara Bareilles is my new theme song. Today’s blog is me being brave, refusing to push down my tears and sadness. One thing Covid has done is bring to light people’s mental health struggles. How could we NOT be sad. I would love to hear from you. We will sit and hold hands together. Small steps.
the adventures of dos tortas 
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