I checked out the date on my last blog entry and low and behold, it is almost two years since I blogged. My bad. I re-read some of my old blogs and there is a theme there - long periods between blogging. I'm lazy and blogging makes me make my brain work. Brain work lately seems to be a very tiring activity.
What has happened in two years? What hasn't?!
Let's work backwards cause my long-term memory isn't what it used to be! We'll work with three recent events.
Hurricane Maria is bearing down on us as I write. I don't believe Maria is going to be all that bad but what the hell do I know? Preparations include putting a few things away that could potentially be flying projectiles. That's about it. What do you really do when the wind is forecast to be 125 km an hour? Duct tape the house to the ground? Side note: I love my generator! Our beloved/hated Edenorte will most likely cut the power as they did with Irma.
Hurricane Irma left a swath of minor but annoying destruction in my already trashed yard. Irma blew its way in, knocked down trees, blew leaves everywhere especially into the pool from hell. Holy windy! Didn't enjoy that experience one little bit. We went 42 hours without power but what really drove me insane? NO internet for almost 12 hours. How does one stay in contact with the outside world with no internet? Might as well cut off my right broken leg!
Now, I should not make light of Category 5 hurricanes. While we were just brushed by Irma, there were many on this paradise island that did not do so well. Many lost their homes and belongings. We lived in a concrete tent and were just fine. Those that lost everything will struggle to rebuild.
This next story isn't even a good vodka story!
38 days ago (yes I am keeping track - I have scraped marks into the wall like one would in a prison cell), I broke my leg. I am the queen of shuffling on a "walker lawn chair" and hobbler on crutches. What a stupid ass thing to do. I slipped and fell in the mud and wet grass. I'm lying by the carport, rolling in the mud, hyperventilating and thinking, this can't be good. I heard the crack. But, I convinced myself that it was only a "bad sprain". Finally, my loving husband looks out the door and says to me, "are you ok? Do you need help?| No dumb ass...I'm counting ants running towards me because I might be rotting meat. WTH? Yes, I need help. There was a lot of grunting and groaning (and not the good kind), but Ross did get me out of the mud and into the house.
Good friends came and picked me up at 9 pm some four hours after the incident to take me to the local hospital. My loving husband would have taken me but with the pack of dogs, he would have never helped carry/walk me to the car without further injuries occurring to me and to him. We would have had dogs in the ER and that would not have worked out well for the staff.
So, no matter what happens in life, I always try to find something positive and/or funny with every shitty thing that happens - here it is: I'm in the x-ray room. I've been filmed. I'm waiting. I look at the air conditioning unit in the room (I think it was -10 C in that room as I was shivering uncontrollably because I have been living in 35 C temps for so long) and that unit is being held up by a couple of 2x4s. Now, I'm laughing. X-ray is done. God love cell phones. The x-ray tech is now taking a picture of my x-ray. Guess that's better than porn or a road side accident. I know he's going to take it home to show all his friends what the dumbass gringa has done.
Now, back to see the doctor who has arrived from consuming his dinner cause he's got bits of something stuck in one of his teeth. I didn't think it was a good idea to point it out as it was rather late and I probably disturbed his fine dining of chicken, beans and rice. Anyway, x-ray dude proudly shows him my x-ray and everyone surrounding me confers and declares that my leg is indeed broken.
The verdict: immediate surgery or a cast for six weeks. Decision made - cast for six weeks as dude, there is no way you are operating on my leg with food stuck in your teeth. Dude I know you want to get back to your dinner and there is no way you are rushing through my rebuild!
My husband has taken on cooking, cleaning, yard work (including the dreaded picking up buckets of poop with minimal gagging...every day), laundry, assisting with shopping (Super Pola has the most awesome electric scooter/cart that I've tried to figure out how to steal without success...damn security guard keeps a close watch on me like he knows what I am planning), driving (have lost several years off my life as I am a control freak and hate to be in vehicles operated by anyone else) and most important, looking after the dogs. While Ross is generally a very patient man, his patience has been tested. The man can yell. Not just raise his voice, he can yell really, really loud. The dogs know it.
Now with all this going on, just prior to the leg event, we ended up with a seventh dog. Funny how shit happens - karma decided to take a vacation and bring us another dog.
Friends were on a road trip by Cabrera. In a condensed version, they found a five week old puppy on the side of the road eating her dead brother than had been run over by a car. They took the puppy home after a visit to the local vet. Landlord sees puppy, says you go or puppy goes. So, we ended up with a seventh dog that was a foster puppy.
Who the hell am I kidding - I am a failure. I am a foster failure. Xena is thriving and growing like a bad weed. She's a Cocumut. Smart little thing and this morning as I write, she has figured out how to jump up onto the dog ottoman. There is officially no safe place for the big dogs to hide from her. She was pretty proud of herself.
So, my loving husband has also been house training a puppy.
And how has the last two years of your life gone? Anyone want a puppy?
