The Sea is a Salty One

.......Fantasy Football season where I morph from my grumpiest form - Fantasy Football Widow!  This is where we are right now. The husband gearing up to pick his fantasy teams, scream at the tv, spout obscenities, and acting a fool. Over the freaking NFL! An organization that exploits the players, sure, they pay them well but the emerging science that shows what this does to their brains and their bodies makes it seem like this is a blood payment for that which should not happen. I realize my thoughts on this sport brand me almost as UnAmerican considering how much of society worships at its altars. I hated it when I attended LSU, I hate it now!  So in the past two weeks the husband has been doing two things, one - he's been asking for a cauliflower pizza he can eat because he misses it. The second thing is more problematic - he wanted me to go with him to one of his fantasy football drafting events. To sit all night with strangers, a wife and young children I do not know whil...

  A disappeared world in Arenal that is now a fancy hotel instead of the quiet place I loved. Nothing stays the same forever, not even my misunderstandings and emotions. Things shift, my slight friend and the outright disliked person from the other day? Yeah, I still deeply dislike Charity Lynn, but I went out of my way to help her. My husband came home and told me what happened when Charity was dropped off late that night. She arrived in the middle of the meeting being held at Kaitlyn's house, which, I think, is how Kaitlyn decided the husband might help driving her there. I held my boundaries and said no because I was worried that the husband wasn't well enough to pick her up from the bed and tote her to the car like a sack of potatoes. She showed up, crying and hollering how much pain she was in. I am sure she is in pain. That night one of my good friends said she was going to go to her storage unit and dig out her walker to bring to Charity. I don't get why Charity was ...

  Sort of my level of agitation this last week starting with the flood of messages over the course of several days from Miss O. In the week since everything you could imagine selling a house overseas has crash landed, all of it not something I had done.  When we hired the real estate agent she told me it was no problem to do the sale with me in Costa Rica and the sale being in Louisiana. This was true right up until her telling me a few weeks ago I needed to just scoot out a few days before closing and have my copy of the papers notarized and overnighted back. After I pulled myself back off the floor from laughing I told her the truth, that here any notarized paperwork went through the Embassy and you had to book the appointment six weeks in advance. Cue realtor freaking out until I came up with the plan to have my Aunt who is also on the Power of Attorney to sign. In the meantime Auntie says she didn't have a copy of the PoA, which I did leave with her last summer. I ran arou...

  What I finally ended up doing with that tray and other items I picked up at the resale shop. I take my coffee and tea seriously. Not seen, my CR coffee pour over, my French press and the Keurig I took from my mother's house. I need coffee so badly right now. Bad crazy asthma. Bad crazy asthma anxiety. And so Miss O has continued spamming me after I told her in no uncertain terms that I could not drive her, lend her my car or arrange her transportation with friends. I told her those were my final words and to not bug me. Her emergency was not my responsibility to fix. She's still sending reams of words. I am not reading them, shunting them down the garbage chute with all the other nutcase ravings that get sent to me regularly. Since then I have heard from two different folks that she brags about being a "bulldog" who never accepts a no, or stops asking because she knows she can wear anyone down. Whelp, she has met the immovable object that I am, filled with a vast am...

  There may be no place like home, but my home here isn't far enough from my personal bete noire Miss Ogress. I sometimes call her the Big O, although there is about thirty pounds less of her now.  Tonight, I'm headed to bed, book in hand about 9 sometime at night on a day I got little done and we had a number of quake shakes in one day. I spent the day trying fruitlessly to find a company to ship 3 boxes of things from my mother's home. Also my aunt has lost her mind, and misplaced her power of attorney so I get to go out and overnight a copy to the law offices handling the closing on my mother's home. My messenger suddenly exploded on my computer, multiple messages coming in fast and furious with the rapidity you usually only get when a pile of faux romance scamming individuals show up. I sigh, roll my eyes, thinking it's the husband again. We're coordinating his arrival in a few days. Returning to Costa Rica requires a printed out airline ticket proving you a...

  It's a Sunday and I should be elsewhere, but church here is a huge problem as long as they refuse to ask clueless gringos not to bring their poodles to church. So much for legal disability accommodations and the love of Christ I guess. A few days ago I had to reach out to my aunt, the one that holds secondary power of attorney over my mother's life with me. I hated bugging her because her husband is in the early months of six months of aggressive chemotherapy. He has cancer in his pancreas and kidney. It's been horrible, so I try to keep my requests to her very minimal. She, like I, has a serious chronic illness there isn't much treatment or knowledge of. I remember how hard it has been going through the health crisises of my own husband. I have no wish to add to her burden. But that whole thing about having my signature notarized on the closing problem had to be overcome. Thankfully she was happy to sign for me. Then she gave me the real updates on my momma. The home...