With my wife off to the US visiting family and taking care of business, I am home holding down the fort.
I’ve been glued to the hearings on the January 6, 2021 attempted coup and attack on the US capital. This week was a doozy. You can’t make this stuff up!
The weather had been lovely and the dogs are behaving. What more could I ask for?!
DOS TORTAS
As a child, we always had dogs. However, I was never given the responsibility to walk, water or feed them. As an adult, when we expanded our family to include (Princess) Luna, I was puzzled by her barking, anxiety and difficulty sleeping. A quick toodle on YouTube and I found trainer Zak George and his helpful suggestions of taking dogs for daily walks, duh!
You may or may not know that once you do anything a few times with a dog, it quickly goes from a one off, to a habit, to a demand. Their internal clock tells you when it’s time to eat, walk and snack. Once a dog is allowed on the furniture, it takes a LOT of persistence, aka an act of God to break the habit. Our dogs have nothing better to do but wait us out. And they have far more patience.
This week on Thursday we had an an arms’ long list of errands to run in preparation for Lisa’s trip to the US. By evening I was so tired that I fell asleep on the couch at 6pm. Of course Stela jumped on me at 7 for her final potty and snack. That dog will kill for food.
Come Friday I declared a day of rest. No gym, no swimming, no leaving my hammock ALL DAY. It was a wonderful idea, until around 8am when I felt two pairs of eyes on me. It was time for the morning walk. I was loathe to get to my feet, change into mosquito-proof clothing and pull on my shoes. It’s a good thing I love these dogs, that’s all I have to say. And besides they’re awfully cute.
DOS TORTAS
Life is slowly returning to pre-Covid days which for me includes Thursday night drawing class. This week we had a group of about eight meeting on the second floor over the Pirate bar. We draw with our non-dominant hand, left handed for me, which helps to develop hand/eye coordination.
The evening started out delightfully with a shapely model. All too often we have young, skinny models with no hips or butt. During a break someone turned on music that was louder than I liked. Then the model, while posing for a longer sketching period, began reading aloud in Spanish. With the reading and the music, it was hard for me to concentrate. Then someone lit a cigarette! Yikes.
My head began to spin. Needless to say I’m the oldest artist in the room. I know how old people are labeled cranky or finicky. While I didn’t want to come across that way, it was exactly how I felt!
An enjoyable evening turned into an internal dialogue with the teacher, requesting that the class suit my needs, turn down the music, and NO smoking. I was clearly no longer having fun. So I gathered my things and left.
During the days that followed, I have realized that it is not the responsibility of the group to meet my needs. If someone smokes, I am quite capable of asking them to go outside. I will also bring my earplugs, as I do in the gym, to protect my hearing.
I am so privileged in many ways here in Mexico. An older, white (from the US) educated, wealthyish woman is pretty much at the top of the heap. Time to check my privilege at the door.
So I give myself permission to leave the class if I need to, without the angst and self recrimination, and I realize that privilege means that something that is a problem for me is not necessarily a problem for anyone else.
DOS TORTAS
What a week, what a week filled with windy downpours and cooler temps. Walking the dogs meant wading through a river of potholes in inappropriate footwear.
Back-to-back tropical storms threatening to become hurricanes provided a welcome reprieve from the heat. We hunkered down and mostly enjoyed the sound of rain and the peace.
When finally venturing out, the mosquitoes made an unwelcome appearance. You must either stay moving, cover up or completely douse yourself in poison, or all three.
Saturday evening saw the first rays filtering through the clouds to provide a stellar sunset. Life is good even in a squall.
DOS TORTAS
A lazy quiet week is not a bad thing, even when that still small voice in my head tells me that I should be accomplishing something. Sigh.
This morning there was a smack down between the brown jays and the grackles. No, they’re not soccer/football teams, but the birds of our yard. Lisa and I were meditating when the screeching started.
We have a large wild zapote tree on the Laguna, out our back window. It attracts black squirrels the size of small monkeys, birds and our dogs who also love the small, brown fruit it produces. Zapotes, also known as sapodillas are unusual tasting, sort of like a cross between a pear and a kiwi in texture. Our tree is quite prolific and huge.
Lisa and I meditate every morning. The birds began making a racket this morning like I have never heard before. If I’d known I was going to write a blog on it, I would have recorded them. It went on for almost twenty minutes.
When I got up to investigate, I saw the large zapote tree full of irate brown jays chasing the grackles out of “their” tree. It was hilarious. Brown jays are bigger than grackles and very, very loud.
I finally put on headphones. This is life in the jungle, peaceful but certainly not always quiet.
DOS TORTAS
Right before I left for California to see my daughter and her family, the US lifted the requirement for wearing masks on airplanes. I wore one anyway, as did most people.
As a matter of fact, I wore a mask at all indoor events, shopping, museum visits, theater and a K.T. Tunstall concert. The only place I didn’t wear one was at home with family.
The vacation was a lot of fun. Last Monday when I landed in Mexico City on my way home, I received a message from my daughter that my son-in-law had tested positive for Covid. Shit. He had driven me to the airport and hugged me goodbye.
This week I have tested negative twice after wearing a mask at home as a precaution. I’m getting back into routine and recovering from the change in time zones. You wouldn’t think two hours could make such a difference. Getting old sucks.
A big shout out to blog follower RudeinNewYork who sent me a box of Covid antigen rapid home tests. They are not available in Bacalar and frankly it never occurred to me to bring some back.
My doctor advised that if I tested positive to start antivirals. I found an agency that would deliver the medication to our door in four hours for a mere $950 us. We decided to pass. It seems I dodged a bullet. Please be careful out there.
DOS TORTAS
Whenever I visit the States, there’s a list of items to bring home to Mexico. They are things we can’t get where we live, or they are exorbitantly priced. All the corners of my suitcase get filled.
There’s also been a couple of trips to local eateries, Japanese and Middle Eastern. When I raise my eyes at the prices, my daughter reports, “that’s just the way it is”. I guess that’s why we live in Mexico.
There have been three kid’s parties this weekend and today is Mother’s Day. That’s a lot of socializing for this introvert.
Friday afternoon was my grandson’s school talent show. From kindergarteners to eighth graders, children danced, tumbled, sang and played drums, piano and guitar. I was moved by their fearlessness. There wasn’t a savant among them, but I loved it anyway.
DOS TORTAS
We all have the mother we have. For some it is a happy relationship, for others it is a sadness. For some it is a blessed memory, for others a painful reminder. Motherhood itself is as we experience it. For some a vocation, for others a choice intentionally untaken. Today I want to invite us all to gather around these mixed truths of our mothers, celebrating the joy it means to so many, acknowledging the reserved response of many others. We all have the mother we have. We are all siblings of that reality, however we encounter it. May the Spirit bless us, with love or healing, as we embrace this day in our own way. And may the mothers we have be a door: to our thanksgiving and to our wisdom. Rev. Stephen Charleston
A brief hola from the land north of the Mexican border (NOB). I am engaged with grandchildren and for the next few weeks will be taking a blog break.
Lisa is holding down the fort and Stella is driving her crazy. So enjoy a few pics from the California coast where I’m hanging out for a few days on a short family vaca. On Monday it’s back to Northern California. Until next week….
DOS TORTAS
When an artist dies, the art that never was is often mourned with as much grief as—if not more grief than—the individual themself. The individual, after all, was flesh and blood. It’s the art that’s immortal.” Esme Wang
Sometimes we don’t know what someone means to us until they’re gone. Filiberto Ayala had more talent in his little finger than I will ever have in my whole body. He also had more heart.
Fili died this week of brain cancer. I never did find out what kind. Coming from a poor, uneducated family, it probably didn’t make any difference to them. Having lost my youngest brother to a glioblastoma, it mattered to me.
I had plans to visit him again on Monday. He died that morning before I could get there. When I went to pay my respects, he was laid out in a coffin in the living room with family and friends sitting outside. There was going to be an all night vigil and cremation the following day. I wish I could have stayed. I think it would have been awkward. At least that’s what I tell myself.
Fili’s Facebook page was flooded with photos, accolades, and stories. He was loved by many, an amazing, artist, son, father and friend. Go with God dear Filiberto.
DOS TORTAS
With so much pain and suffering in the world, is it super privileged to be content? There are no broken bones, the car is running, we have food and shelter.
I am grateful, and I don’t want to jinx things. I’m not saying that life is perfect. I still struggle with not sleeping. It’s just the way it is. My body hurts from gym work outs, but it’s a good hurt and I’m thrilled with the muscles. Lisa and I have been having date-night once a week. Sometimes it’s the little things.
I’m leaving for California a week from Tuesday and I’m actually excited. Not much really excites me these days. Soon I will be checking the weather, hauling out the suitcase and getting a Covid test. Hi ho hi ho.
Until then, I will try to keep the bubble from bursting, however I did buy travel insurance.
DOS TORTAS
Jack Scott, author of Perking the Pansies and Turkey Street
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