The Sea is a Salty One

Felled by the stomach flu today on top of everything else. Yesterday I finally started being able to shake it off, this week, after hearing that Jeff Flake called for an FBI investigation of Brett Kavanaugh's possible drunken assault antics. Started feeling like someone was actually listening. It's a good feeling. It was time for something good as I'd had a number of head knockings this week with Kavanaugh's defenders on NLQ's FB page and in the comments at NLQ. I gave up trying to reason with any of them quickly. I posted the craziest one at Jerks 4 Jesus. Deleted all the rest. It wasn't a basket filled with deplorables, more like a garbage can filled with bottom feeders with dirty mouths. Most of the relatives and a few friends that defended Kavanaugh online are pretty reasonable people, and I had some discussions with them. Unfortunately two I just deleted and blocked. One I told why, the other was someone pretty rotten that I had forgotten was on my frie...

I've been crushed for days now, cuminating in not sleeping last night and lots of tears. Not only was I molested as a child, but I was raped at 15 by a class mate. So watching Dr. Ford testify and the rage of one Brett Kavanaugh has been very hard to take. I'm feeling like a whipped dog I've been so triggered. It was November and for close to a year Tony kept asking me to go out with him, on a date. I kept telling him that I was already dating someone from my old school but thanks for asking. I had nothing against Tony, he was one a gang of kids that lived in a nearby subdivision. We all went to Catholic school together. I avoided Tony and pals because they liked to shake down kids for lunch money, they did it the first day I tranferred into that school to me. They were pretty rough and wild. It was November when Tony knocked on my door. It was afterschool and my mother was still at work. I let him in, why wouldn't I? He was a classmate, we were friendly. No reason ...

A few weeks ago I ran across a magazine article about the Surf Ranch , and a few days later watched one of the surf competitions taking place there. I'd been curious about it because I just cannot imagine that surfing a uniform artifical wave could possibly compete with surfing the wild blue ocean. I'm glad I took the time to watch because it made me think about what it is with man manipulated artificial thingsI don't like. It's the uniformity, the presicion. In life it is a rare thing to have the same thing again, and again, and again. The nature of life, and it's deepest beauty is in the endless variations. Conformity has never interested me. I think that's why I took to surf culture many years before with my father. You never knew what you are going to get in the ocean. I like the mystery of not knowing, of finding out in that moment when you stand on the board, and the challenges of the split second reactions. It's as close to something deeply prim...

I can always tell when it's full moon. I know science says that it's an old wives tale, but every single full moon the internet goes haywire. Around full moon is when I get the most candidates for Jerks4Jesus. It's when the conspiracy theories come out to pay, and when we see the nuttiest things quoted on a Facebook group I belong to that tracks people drinking their own urine and using Black Salve. Cindy and I end up talking every full moon and solar flare and documenting the cray cray. There was no craziness yesterday my orbit, it was calm, but that might just be because I spent part of the day getting these gross infected lumpens under my left arm probed and drained. I was either getting poked or laying down. I went to the beach to walk and dragged my exhausted ass back early. Just not having enteractions with life. Today, oh man has that been a different story! Crazy happenings so far and it's barely noon here. A pile of Ticos at my gate trying to sell everyt...

First let me say that I do not approve of face punching, no matter how evil or smirky the punchee might be. Violence is never right, no matter how you might think that it would be satisfying. Neither am I encouraging anyone to go out and punch the faces of anyone on this list. If I were to see anyone on this list being punched I'd be very upset, even while thinking they likely deserved it. This topic came up this afternoon with another Patheos blogger. He posted on his Facebook that he thought Ted Cruz had the most punchable face ever. Which might be true. But not for me. Ted looks like some Hispanic humped Star War's Yoda, right down to the sagging ears. It wouldn't matter if Ted was Don Draper handsome with the manners of Mr. Rogers and the sheer animal magnetism of Jason Momoa. As long as he keeps spewing hateful things like a Donald Trump Jr. Jr. and has that smirky expression on his dopey face someone will want to beat on him. He is not even top three with me. In...

Haven't posted in the last few days because life is boringly reptitious. Get up, check emails, write for an hour, go walk the beach, go swim in the pool and cook, cook, cook inbetween continuatlly cleaning the funk stink out of the house from the water. Drag around exhausted from the meds. Big freak whoop! Until today and my love hate relationships with the local iguanas. We have a pile of different colored iguanas living in the vacant lot due west of our finca. I see them primarily when they are coming up and over the now 15 foot security wall to raid papayas and star fruit. Rainbow of colors,  emerald green, dusty gray, gray and black striped, golden, and golden red striped. Beautiful but so annoying. A few days ago I had lunch at Witchs Rock Surf Camp when a smaller one darted across the lawn to tourist oohs and ahhs. The Tico bartender I know and I just looked at each other and laughed. He said something like 'Yeah, they are fascinating the first couple of times you see...

I forget sometimes that I have different facets of my personality. Some of those sides are particularly unlovely. They tend to pop up when I least expect or desire them. With extreme fatigue from the drugs and the fact that my emotions seem to be right on the surface these days I tend to be this girl when I'm tired, worn out, feel attacked, or just plain old vanilla scared. Even when relatively happy. Go figure. Yes ma'am, that's me yesterday, mixed in with that hateful trucker with the mouth.  Yep, me again, just add swear words. I can be a mouthy little thing. Yesterday I got gripped by sudden fears when Jim and I were walking on the beach, as usual he stomped down hard to the more populately stretch of the beach and I veered the other way, off to the totally abandoned stretch of Playa Grande headed towards the estuary. I like my peace and quiet. I need time alone to decompress and think. I like to wander, stop and watch the sunning crabs and scuttling hermi...

Today things came to kind of a head again and we had a squabble around noon today. I am not entirely up to speed, and someone seems to think I should be. I knew when he asked me about if he caused my stroke that he wanted me to absolve him of any stress, but I could not do that, which really pissed him off. I don't care. I cannot pretend. It just takes too much energy. Why are men so damn selfish? Why is everything in this world revolving around them in their mines. Life tends to disabuse women of the notion of their importance in the universe very quickly, and we realize we're one of many. Men? Not so. They mostly seem to think that the world literally rotates around their ideas, needs, and wants. Many never catch on. I know he only asked because he was feeling guilty, but there is reason for him to feel guilty. He has been living in fantasy land for nearly two years while I get to do the emotional heavy lifting. Hard times, man, hard times. But I won't back down. ...

The medication side effects are still here, but not quite as badly. We're still cleaning up after the water. The floor is fully dry, but it smells pretty funky still. Just mopped with straight up bleach so we'll see if that's good enough. Time for new furniture once the smell goes. Went to church today even if I'm dragging ass hard still. The exhaustion is overwhelming. Heard just as I was leaving that someone else in the expat community was having either a heart attack or a stroke. I think I saw them being airlifted from the same airport I was. The air ambulance took off and passed overhead in the afternoon headed for the hospitals of San Jose. I hope they make it. Still spending a lot of time laying down. But it's kind of nice because Stinky is cuddling me. What's not so nice is that Jim does not seem to understand that my new reality is a constant state of headache, dizziness and exhaustion. I'm not getting to do this or that, I'm guarding a...

I am better. The drugs to deal with the side effects of the drugs I need to take for the stroke have finally started to kick in just a hair. Plus I realized yet again that I am not empress of the universe with the huge and awesome responsibility and duties to do everything. Had to put down, and let go of the notion that my house must be perfect and rest. Who really cares that it literally stinks because of the water. I managed to get one of the rooms completely stripped and bleached. It's going to take me all week to get it done, and Jim is doing some of it too. No rush. Just us. I did a few things yesterday and mostly, I rested. Which is apparently what I needed the most. On a strict diet with no salt and not much good tasting but that's okay. I've been losing for a while now and will continue as it's become more important for my health. Here's what I'm not doing. Officially 'dieting' with different nutritional fads. I am following the guideline...

Right after I threw out that whine it occurred to me that I don't have to do anything but stay white and eventually die. I put down everything and rested. It was what I needed to do. Feeling much better. Still having crappy medication side effects but I'm not bawling or thinking about death.

The medicine is making me feel vile. That's the only word for it. Every simple motion, from taking the clothes off the line or just folding them exhausts me beyond belief. I do have a lady that comes in and helps part time, but she has a bad back. I get her to clean the bathrooms and dust the furniture and the woodwork. The rest I do. Now I cannot because of the medication side effects. Jim does some. But sometimes just creates more mess and chaos than he addresses. Women from the chuich have offered to help, but I cannot allow them to see the sink filled with dirty dishes and the muddy floors now that Jim's removed the floodwaters. Mopping is way way way out of the question right now and I know I would fret and end up going behind Jim. Fifteen years ago I popped a couple of 130/85 blood pressures and the doctor put me on the lowest levels of blood pressure meds. In the three months I was on the meds I felt th is horrible and it never lifted. I was taken off the meds wh...

If you've not read about my crazy week I suggest you go here and then return.  I can tell by the high number of shares that Rachel Coleman's fans, the ladies that love Jinger and Fundytown  are all talking. Good. Gives them something to do for today. Everyone deserves to be amused. Yes, yes, I had a mini stroke. The funny of it all is that I just do not take myself as seriously as others have. Example? Monday morn, right in the middle of this ridiculous crisis that I was initially refusing to accept was a crisis a handsome young man stood over my prone almost naked body. He held an industrial sized jar of KY Jelly, dabbling it here and there while I laughed and thought too bad he's just attaching EKG electrodes. This was not the scenario I ever imagined with a handsome guy and KY Jelly. I felt fine before, during and after the stroke. Now I don't feel so fine at all. The medications are screwing with me horribly. How horribly? Well I am out here eating sugar free...

I have a confession to make. I am terrible at math. I seem to be totally incapable of properly balancing my personal and business check books and frequently end up running crying to Jim to fix it. So now he balances my checkbooks. I can read a P&L (profit and loss statement) and pick stocks that will do well more of the time. I can budget (sort of), and do tip math and dollars to colones conversions (sometimes). But today isn't that day. We had lunch at one of our favorite restaurants here before I went for a beach walk and Jim got a massage. He left me with the restaurant bill. I was so busy talking to one of the waitstaff I know well, struggling to do tip math, that I signed for someone elses bill. Someone that had a pile of beers and another meal we did not have. Here's the sucky thing about this. Jim has already mentioned it in passing a dozen times in the last hour. He's not going to let it go, even if we know the restaurant owners really well, and this has a...

Not doing too well right now. I'm having widely flucuating oxygen levels. That usually only happens in the States in mid=August. I get so low I can barely function, going to the ER sometimes for oxygen between days flopped down in the bed. I'm there again. But the improvement is that I managed to recognize it was happening before measuring my oxygen. Started at church, just as Jim was packing up the t-shirts he sells every Sunday. I sat there, watching everyone else chatting with each other and I started thinking dark thoughts. Things like 'you don't belong here', 'none of these people are your friends..' and so on. I stopped and immmediately checked my stats. I was at 86 percent, low enough to head to the hospital. I didn't. I went  home, dosed up with the asthma meds and lay down reading for the rest of the day. I downloaded the newest Mad magazine because I've learned that humor helps when I get into this state. What hasn't helped is the f...