Problems? What problems?

 I don't have no stinkin' problems!

I woke up this morning to the horrific(1) news of a massive tornado tearing through the heartland. When I was laying in bed, waking up slowly, my constitutionally cynical mind was worrying about a bunch of little things, blowing them out of proportion and fretting all over the place. Once the sun was up (do you worry more in the dark? I do. Every monster is scary and huge in the dark), Capt informed me of the monstrous storms and I was thrown into an immediate mix of gratitude and shame for having worried over now mouse sized inconveniences.

Here's what I do have: A solid house that's all in one piece, warm and dry. Food in the pantry and refrigerator. Clean running water, dependable electricity, and a reliable car that can get me where I need to go. My children are all safe and housed/fed. I have the medication I need to keep my body and brain  working properly.  

I don't know why there are tragedies that hit so hard. I now that we live in an imperfect world where weather does whatever it does and while there is a demographic that likes to blame Mankind of All Bad Things(2), ultimately We are not the ones in control. What a big ol' ball of arrogance to think We are. Weather will do what weather will do. I am right now waiting for the climate change folks to point to the tornados and shout "SEE! Worse weather!" when really, the only difference between now and like 300 years ago is that we have cameras and internet to tell everyone about it. We have dense population points, and fancier possessions that make the damage costlier. 

So yeah. Right now my heart hurts for all those people who've been so severely affected by these storms. All my problems are not problems. I do not have problems. I have a few minor inconveniences. I am not having to deal with the uncertainty of not knowing if a loved one is alive or not. One of the first things I did was shoot out a text to my sons to check on them (no, none of them were in the path of these storms, but it's a Mom thing.). 2 of them answered, the 3rd is probably at work and can't.

I don't know why I forget about gratitude, and why I let little things balloon into big things. I don't know why bad things happen to good people, and good things happen to bad people, other than life isn't fair. I am sure some of the people who's lives have been blown up by a tornado are good people who, in the estimation of humans, didn't deserve what happened. 

I live near an area that was devastated by a tornado a couple of years ago. Lots of people died. The community rallied around the families affected and houses are being rebuilt, families are healing, but there's still a nervousness about big storms. One of my sons lives in that town, and he said a lot of people were nervous last night. 

Pray for the people. Pray for the first responders in those small towns, answering calls involving their own family and friends. Pray for the search and rescue people, hospital systems being overwhelmed by mass casualties, infrastructure workers repairing power lines, people who need heat, all of them. Pray that people who will try to take advantage of the situation will by stymied, thieves and grifters will be foiled. It is such a long-term and complicated situation.

Ok, there. Writing it all down is a necessary catharsis. Here is a pretty picture:

1.horrific is a word about which I have very strong feelings. It is vastly overused, and for events that are....welp...NOT horrific. I was told once of a person who was "subjected to a horrific search at an airport, because they were Brown.". I asked "Oh mercy! Were they hurt? Were police and hospitals involved? How long were they handcuffed to the hospital bed and pistol whipped??" I was truly concerned. Nope, they were pulled out of the line and patted down, and their luggage was opened up and searched. That was all. Hardly horrific. That happens to me every single time I am in an airport because I Look Like a Potential Threat. Horrific is the accident that put my son in the hospital for months, the one where his car was approached by medics with a body bag because they didn't think anyone could have survived it. Horrific is a wedge tornado that rips across 200 miles of the heartland and kills possibly 100 people. Horrific is a completely avoidable famine in Afghanistan. It is not a word I use lightly.

2. I suppose in the grand scheme Biblically, it *is* Man's fault going back to Adam and Eve opening the box of Sin and disobedience to God, thus having God throw Man out of Eden and letting us suffer consequences, but that's a whole 'nother post for a whole 'nother day,

'Tis the Season

 Here we are, Early December (the 6th, of 2021) and I'm feeling, I dunno, procrastinative (if that wasn't a word, it is now. I just adverbed a verb. and verbed adverb. Nothing like grammatical gymnastics to get the mind juices flowing).  It's a cool, but not cold, day. It's cloudy but not raining (yet). I'm up, but not productive. The dog is staring through the front door window, sucking in his cheeks and wanting to be fed. I'm sitting on the couch, alternating between looking at the dog, whining about wanting to sit in the hot tub yet doing nothing to facilitate that, pondering which leftover to eat for lunch, and wondering if I will finish one or two of about 297 projects waiting in the sewing room. They're mostly short little ones and if I got a few knocked out at least something productive will have been accomplished. 

The most likely scenario for the day will be couched in optimistic words like "planning" and "research" and "design work" but from the outside looking in, will look more like "sitting on the couch with the TV on low and occasionally getting up for a beverage".

With the exception of the sewing room and, to a lesser degree, Capt's office, the house is pretty much in good order. Friends were here for a couple of days and a Panic Cleaning 3 hours before they arrived means things are put away and surfaces are clean. God invented doors so we'd have a place to shove shit out of view, but I have been (somewhat) diligently been trying (in my own limited way) to put some sense of order to the place. I'm still struggling with the trials of combining 2 large households into one small one, and my inherent sense of "don't get rid of anything that might be useful one day, even if I know I'll probably never use it" causes useful-yet-not containers and jars and boxes to accumulate, then the psychological pain of throwing them away happens and causes double mental quandaries. 

Just the other day Kroger had pineapples for 50 cents (about to be too ripe) so I bought 4 with the intention of making some delicious pineapple jam. I have jars, Sure-Jell, sugar, all the things, and...plenty enough other things to do that I do NOT need to be making jam, especially since WE DON'T EAT JAM. And yet, soon (possibly even today) I shall prepare and can 10 (approximately) pints of jam. CHRISTMAS GIFTS! You say! Yes. right there with the 20 pints of berry jam, 4 gallons of assorted jalapeno preparations, not to mention the shipping costs of heavy glass jars containing sticky stuff upon which the post office and UPS frown. Clearly I didn't think this through very well. Oh! I know! I'll make 1/2 the pineapples into jams and the other half into dehydrated! I love dehydrated pineapple! Problem solved.

Speaking of Christmas gifts, that reminds me I need to box up stuff for an assortment of relatives and get them mailed off. Goodness knows I have boxes and I've saved all the bubble wrap from a year's worth of online shopping. (refer to previous statement about saving stuff that might be useful) I'm recycling, which is Virtuous and Cost Effective.

So yeah. Christmas Spirit is off to a sputtering start, like a lawnmower that hasn't been cranked in 9 months. The cat approved of the decorated tree, the intended gifts have accumulated on the back porch along with the boxes and all those square plastic nut containers that make amazing storage for the RV (and give Mom something to save for me). Also jars both purchased and acquired (also from Mom), and liquor bottles that are pretty enough to put honey in, should we ever get around to harvesting it from the beehive. I promise you, every time I save a thing it's because I KNOW it's going to be eventually useful. In the back of my head I also know one day my sons, who by virtue of being men, will not be interested in going through my shit after I die and will probably just sell the house fully loaded to the highest bidder. 

Also, I realize this post is a little bit rambling, but it's one of those days where everything in my body is hurting and I just want to sit here and wish the hot tub would come to me instead of me having to heave myself off the couch and walk the 10 yards outside to get to it. I know that sitting in it, amongst the blooming hibiscus and steam, will be restorative and gift me with a few hours of pain relief and productivity (possibly even involving pineapples and sugar). There. I talked myself into it. Y'all have a good day. 

Post Thanksgiving Pre Christmas or something

 Alright, Thanksgiving has been done. Several days of time spent with Capt's family and some friends, and a lot of food. I am hoping, for her sake, his mother decides to pass the tradition on to someone else. She works hard and deserves, at her age, to not do it. Not that I don't appreciate it, she's a lovely woman and does a phenomenal job, but....it's time to let someone else do it. Capt, possibly, fried his last turkeys and will be, hopefully, be passing those responsibilities on to a younger person.  If he's relieved of the turkey job then we may do our own thing elsewhere for Thanksgiving. 

So now it's on to Christmas.  I dug out a couple of red sweaters that need to be washed and dried to get 11 months of packed-away wrinkles out, and with a couple of red plaid skirts and some boots, will serve as a panoply of Holiday Accoutrement. Recently I acquired a nice women's fedora, and perhaps something festive will go on that as well. Who knows. All this is mood-dependent.

As for household decor, also mood-dependent. A long long time ago, when household income was fairly tight, I had the idea that our young children could pick out a mug, one of those shaped like a Santa Claus head, to give me as a Christmas gift. Those mugs are cheerful, ubiquitous, and just the sort of thing a young child would choose for a parent. It became an annual thing and now I've got a collection of about 40 of them, ranging from Dollar Tree finds to vintage ones from Ebay, to a couple of super fancy Fitz and Floyd offerings. All are precious to me because of the meaning behind them. They get scattered throughout the house, and with the exception of the very old ones, are available for hot chocolate or coffee to whomever wants to use one. If one gets broken, it gets glued back together and relegated to the top of the bathroom cabinets, or for use holding measuring spoons. 

Capt, having been in the wood products industry for many years, prefers not to use a live tree, so we have a pretty good fake one that may or may not see the light of day. Between the 2 of us we have some cute ocean and travel themed ornaments, all with memories attached from assorted travels. When the kids were all gone, and it was just me, I retired all the ornaments from the years past. Eventually when they have their own families, I will let them go through and choose what they want, and the rest will go back into storage for descendants to find and use. Starting over with a new life also means starting over with a new Christmas tree, and new traditions. I don't mind, it feels like the right thing to do.

Our house is set way back off the road, and no one sees it but us. Because of this, I don't mess with lights on the roof or garlands on the porch rails. I suppose if we traveled during the holiday, and had the camper parked somewhere public like an RV park, I'd decorate in a fun way, but we haven't done that thus far. Maybe one day. Not today.

One of the ways I handle the whole gift-thing is to make stuff. We have 3 grandkids who are young enough to still get a big kick out of opening gifts on Christmas morning, so they'll get something, but everyone else is going to get a box of handmade yummies that I've been working on since July. A few boxes of Mason jars, and a lot of work in front of a stove or a dehydrator has resulted in a bunch of goodies to load into boxes and deliver to people who can get their own sweaters and socks if they need them. I have no expectations of anything more than a hug and a phone call, and perhaps a tasty meal fixed by Capt. Hopefully involving something beefy.

Anyway, that's all I've got to say about that right now.

Thanksgiving cometh

 I realize there is a Movement in this country to eliminate Thanksgiving. Apparently it is indicative of the White Man's take-over of this country, stealing it from the indigenous folk who were here first. Ok, I can kind of see that. However, as a solidly white person with a dribble of Native American from a multi-great grandmother who had a relationship with a white man, I embrace Thanksgiving. There were a bunch of white folks who were helped out by a bunch of Natives way back in the day, and Thanksgiving is a recognition of that, and has morphed into the current incarnation, where we give thanks for what we have...whatever that may be.

As for me, I have much for which to be thankful this year. Some I won't go into, some I will. 

Without giving details that aren't mine to give, I am thankful for the way situations have worked out with family members. Stuff was bad, now it's not. Healing seems to be happening in certain arenas. For that, I am thankful. I say seems...because I can only go by what I see and while I know sometimes (often times) things aren't exactly what they look like on the surface, currently I am giving thanks for what I see. Every morning. 

The first thing I do upon waking up is to thank God that I woke up, and that I didn't get a middle-of-the-night phone call from a hospital, saying I needed to get there immediately because of some dire circumstance involving one of my family members. Then I go down the list of people I love, and give thanks for the improved circumstances in their lives. I figure a good way to start the day is to give thanks, rather than ask for stuff.  

I guess in that way, every day is Thanksgiving. Every day is Easter as well....giving thanks for Christ's resurrection and all that means. 

Then there's the...sort of...Day of Thanksgiving. You know, that last Thursday in November where people eat too much and maybe get up with their cousins or something. One of the delightful parts of being with Capt's family is that Thanksgiving is a Big Deal. It's not just one day. Oh no. It gets stretched out into 4 days of gluttony, excess, and hooting about football. People start coming in on Wednesday, so there's a giant Low Country Boil (look it up) and Cousin Drew brings a sack of oysters as well. Then Thursday everyone meets at a different house and eats too much. Capt fries turkeys and everyone else brings everything else and there's food enough for 1000 even though usually there's 40-50 including screaming children and Aunt Ann who's a lovely person but can't remember anything, nonetheless is as gracious and wonderful as an Old South Matriarch could possibly be.  I am particularly charmed and grateful that they accept and welcome my children even though we're new to the mix. 

On Friday, people lay around and groan and eat leftovers, gearing up and recovering to get ready for Saturday. That's the day of The Iron Bowl...the biggest and fiercest rivalry in the entire country. Auburn versus Alabama. This year it's being played in Auburn. There are 2 of us who went to Auburn, the rest are Alabama alumni and there's some bit of the Alabama School of Business with a family name attached so the loyalty is absolute. The party starts early, and there's a plurality of TVs showing every angle and announcer, a beer fridge, snacks for 100, and Capt's father graciously put an Auburn magnet on his Alabama beer fridge.

True story: I met Capt's family for the first time Thanksgiving 2017. Now, generally is it expected Alabama will win. They're like that. As for Auburn, I am always surprised with they win anything. Well. That year, Auburn beat Alabama at the Iron Bowl. And I was sitting there, surrounded by dedicated Alabama people, the lone Auburn person in my orange shirt, sucking it in so hard because I'd just met these people and wanted to make a good impression. Capt was begging me to not gloat, and I was closing my watering eyes, trying so hard. Hopefully I managed to be calm about it. I know that his parents (father especially) took it hard but he was gracious. I told him I was sorry his team had lost, because it meant ever so much more to him than it did to me.  

Anyway, the whole point of this is that, Thanksgiving is a big deal, probably the biggest deal of the year. Christmas isn't much anymore. The kids are grown and off elsewhere. Even though I've spent the last 2 months prepping gifts for them, there won't be much in the way of festivities or decorations happening. With no youngun's I don't see the point. There's a few grandkids, but only one is local and his other set of grandparents do Christmas so over-the-top I figure that covers what we don't go.

It really is my favorite holiday, and has been for many, many years. Even when there were kids at home and Christmas meant something. I've preferred Thanksgiving since...I don't know...the late 1980's. There's no obligations to be fancy( Easter or Halloween) or give presents (Easter or Christmas) or blow stuff up (like Independence Day). It's just...food, and gratitude. I have so very much to be grateful for and while I try to keep that in mind every day, the once-a-year mandated reminder kicks it into high gear, and I get to eat fried turkey, pineapple casserole, and lady peas. 

And I am so very thankful for those things, as well as the roof over my head, the freedom to gripe about my government, fresh water, and that my kids are all provided for. Those are all things that should never be taken for granted.

Plans!

 Winter Approcheth. Winter in the Deep South is more of a concept than a reality. Around here it means dreary days of rain with the occasional complete shut-down inducing flakes of snow followed by black ice on bridges. Anyone remember Snowmageddon that closed Atlanta for several days and caused Chik-Fil-A to deliver sandwiches to stranded motorists on I-285? I remember it. I wasn't living in Atlanta so I just shrugged and made soup.

Anyway, Capt and I make Winter Escaping Plans. Last year we went to South Fla in the Pompano Beach area for a dive trip. That was fun! The year before we went to Key West and I got my first real life exposure to drag queens and snow crab claws. Also Fun!  Capt's making noises now about another trip down to the Keys, for a couple of days of diving and boating (we're going to take The Other Line along), then drive to Tampa to spend a couple days with friends there. I want to hit up the Goodwill store in Naples because c'mon....Naples. You KNOW the Goodwill has to be something special. It's the first place I ever saw 4 McLarens at a stoplight. And some sort of supercar we couldn't identify but later determined it was a Volvo. I didn't know Volvo even made a supercar but there it was.  We ate at a restaurant that had Martini and Mussel Monday (I think it was Monday....might have been Wednesday) and I got the BEST mussels I'd ever had *AND* a proper martini. There were lots of fancy Ladies Who Lunch there and the whole thing was some sort of cultural experience that made me smile.

So yeah, we're making Winter Plans again. Nothing's firm, and initially I was kind of "hmmm" about it but then I remembered the Keys have John Pennecamp State Park and I have dive gear including tanks we could get filled somewhere and Pennecamp is some of the best diving in the country so there's that.  Plus the boat and Capt's kind of grooving on the idea of boating around the Keys and possibly catching a fish. Our friends in Tampa have ample room and a private dock, and Capt would love to explore the flats in the area and maybe do some more fishing. 

The more I think about it, the more I'm loving the idea of it. There's something about getting away to a Tropical Locale in the middle of Winter (or what passes for it in Central Alabama) for a complete change of venue that is deeply appealing. 

I'd have to probably shave my legs. 

And do a couple of practice dives maybe in a Florida spring, just to make sure I remember how. If he's teaching a class at the University around then, I could go into the pool and fritz around. Just to be sure.

Anyway, it's a possibility. For now we're going to do some fishing expeditions in the North Florida flats around Apalachicola and Port Saint Joe because it's that time of year and redfish is delicious.

Where has the time gone?

 Geez it's been a couple of months. What can I say? I've been busy, y'all.  Doing what? What on Earth could a 56 year old fairly recently remarried window mother of 4 grown kids POSSIBLY be busy doing? I mean seriously. I'm not even formally employed. Or apparently employable. A couple of years ago I threw my new resume out there into the proverbial wind. I got a few nibbles to which I enthusiastically responded but my enthusiasm was met with (what seemed to be) Oh. You're Old. I wanted to put on my resume', down at the bottom, something along the lines of "As a 56 year old woman, I will not be called by the schools to fetch sick children. I will not spend the day crying because my boyfriend didn't call yesterday. I will not be out 3 days a month due to menstrual cramps. I make excellent coffee and am not too highly educated to do it." But no. I'm 56. I have grey hair and occasionally swollen ankles. I am not a pretty piece of boobage to ornament the front desk and flirt with the clients. Never mind I can make them feel like their mother just gave them a hug and offer them the best coffee they'd had in a month.

Frustrated much? Naw. Not in the least. Nor is my ego damaged because of it. Their loss, not mine.

Which is slightly a lie. No one likes to be rejected. 

So what HAVE I been doing? Well, The Boat came in. A fine piece of flats-floating work Capt named The Other Line (as in "Can't come to the phone right now, he's on The Other Line"  get it? Huh? Get it? Haw!) So work has been proceeding on getting it fully equipped with all the ancillary stuff like tackle, EPIRB, life jackets, things, the Coast Guard insists on. Also figuring out the best places to fish. Other business stuff like cards, magnet things to go on the truck, getting a website (site has been bought but not yet established)...you know...the stuff of today's business environment. 

Also...a lot of embroidery work...sort of.

And some reading, writing, cooking, gardening, general figuring out of "where do we want to go from here?" Capt's office is getting arranged. The desk needs sorting out and there's some boxes of stuff that don't have a home yet. 

I'm trying to figure out my dog. Bless him. He refuses to let us know when he has to poop so we find it in assorted places in the house and that has resulted in a banishment to the outside. I hate that, but one can't have one's members of the household making deposits of the non-financial sort on the floor. The cat, on the other hand, is very smug about it all. 

Food continues to be a source of stress. Capt has so little he can eat these days without upsetting his system in one way or another. For a person who's a committed foodie, that's more than just an inconvenience. It's having one of your favorite sources of pleasure removed, but knowing it's still there mocks you. Going to the grocery store used to be fun, now it's a minefield and very discouraging. He tells me I don't need to restrict my diet just because of him, but I'm not going to sit down and eat a giant Reuben in front of him, or a pizza, or any other thing he used to love but now can't eat for fear it will make him sick. How rude would that be?  

Today? I'm trying to ignore the news. With a vodka cranberry. 

Sometimes you just need a cookie.

 What's your favorite cookie? I like oatmeal raisin. Those are my comfort cookie. I like them made with real butter, and I spice them up a bit with cinnamon, nutmeg, and allspice. Nothing fancy recipe-wise, just the one on the back of the oatmeal box. Add raisins and chopped pecans or walnuts. I have nothing against other cookies. Chocolate chips are good, snickerdoodles are even better, and good ol' 3 ingredient shortbreads are even better than oatmeal raisin but I don't make them often because I'll seriously eat the entire pan because...y'know...butter, flour, and sugar. You can't get more elemental than that.

When I was growing up, my Mom made spectacular piecrust, like really REALLY good that would bake up crisp and flaky. She would cut off the trimmings and bake them with cinnamon and sugar on them. She called the piecrust cookies and they never lasted long enough to even cool off properly. I have been know, occasionally, to make piecrust without the pie, tear it into pieces and sprinkle it with cinnamon sugar, just to have the childhood memory of Mom making a pie and the added treat of the cookies.

I truly don't know what my kids favorite cookies were. They would eat anything. I know one of them always asks for a German chocolate cake, but the others never (to my recollection) had a particular preference. My late husband always wanted peanut butter cookies and Capt likes chocolate chip with pecans. 

Now, it's 2 of us here with an occasional Grandpunkin and #3 dropping by. When I make cookies now, I don't bake the entire batch and have 5024 cookies on a plate goading us into eating them all in one day. I will make a whole batch of dough, use my tiny ice cream scoop (about 1-1/2 inch diameter) and scoop balls onto a tray to freeze. Then they go into a ziploc bag in the freezer, and when one of us wants cookies, a few balls go onto a baking sheet and we have some cookies without having a gluttonous frenzy. I can throw a few balls into a container and send home with #3 to share with Grandpunkin, or take some to Mom to have with her afternoon tea. She also loves oatmeal raising and Dad likes chocolate chip.

I'm not going to take the time to write out the recipes because they're just the ones off the chocolate chip bag and the oatmeal box. The only differences are these:

• I always ALWAYS use real butter.
• I use all brown sugar, or turbinado sugar, instead of 1/2 brown and 1/2 white
• With oatmeal, I add 1/2 teaspoon each ground cinnamon and allspice, and 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg. I know nutmeg isn't everyone's cup of tea so leave it out if you aren't a fan. You can also use 2 teaspoons of pumpkin pie or apple pie spice blend
• Occasionally I've made Kitchen Sink cookies. Those are oatmeal cookies with ALL the good stuff added: chocolate chips, nuts, raisins, dried cranberries, coconut, anything you can think of. About 1/4 cup of at least 4 things.
• When mixing the butter, eggs, and vanilla, I whip it in a stand mixer for several minutes until it's so creamed together it's almost white.

There. That's my cookie post.

"CRS is highly permanent right now"

 There's all kinds of theories about memories, loss, recall, all that stuff...whether they're gone, or it's recall that's a problem.  Or (my favorite Highly Unscientific But Far More Palatable) that your brain gets full and when a new memory comes in an older one gets shoved out...usually during the night and that's what the wet stuff is on your pillow. Old memories, not drool. Of course, that doesn't explain the memory issues of walking into a room and not remembering why....only that you've got a plausible reason for doing so.

Do you ever make a reason up, just to keep from embarrassing yourself? Even if no one is around and you're the only one disturbed by situation. I do that sometimes. I'll go into the storage room to get something, and have no idea why, so I'll grab some toilet paper or ziploc bags and go back in the house. Then I'll remember it was mason jars...but was it quart or pint? Then I have to parse *that* out. Am I canning beans or pickling jalapenos or making marmalade? Oh right....marmalade. 1/2 pints. And I'm out of them so I go online to see who has them nearby and wouldn't you know Tractor Supply has Wrangler jeans on sale! I need to call (whoever) and let them know! Why was I at Tractor Supply? I don't want need any horsefeed or bearings or giant bags of candy orange slices. Oh well, I guess I'll go read a while.

4 hours later....

darnit I needed 1/2 pints.

Even Capt, who's memory is usually exceptional, has his moments. I think like me, his mind works in overdrive but he's better at keeping things compartmentalized so the mental colors don't run together. A couple of days ago when I was expressing so much frustration as being an airhead, he gently said "you're not an airhead, your mind is just always 3 steps ahead and you lose track." Maybe. But it's personally embarrassing to forget I need 1/2 pint jars and get toilet paper instead. Even if bringing it in the house served a practical purpose.

Then there's that perpetual Mother of Several situation of calling your kids by the wrong names. I do it every. single. time. Almost. It helps if there's only one here and I can tell myself silently "his name is (X) his name is (X) his name is (X)" but that's still no guarantee. "his name is (X)" in my head and "HEY (Y)! Great to see you!" "Hi Mom, I'm X.." Oh. I knew that. hi anyway, its still great to see you.

There's one area where I'm guaran-damn-teed not to forget. Never will I ever, because my brain at 2 am will call all this up and beat me about the head and neck with it. It's all the everything I have ever done really wrong. The time I inadvertently offended someone in the 7th grade. She'd gotten new glasses and I said something rude. Then there was the time....and the other time...and that one time...Shut up brain. Why won't you remember 1/2 pint jars instead?

The statement there on the title comes from Capt. He said that earlier today. "What's CRS?" I asked.

"Can't Remember Shit."  

Oh...he said that right after he asked what I fixed for lunch and I replied with "same thing I fixed 10 minutes ago when you asked." But then right now he's not firing on all cylinders, through no fault of his own. Soon he'll be back to his normal self. 

Square Peg, meet round hole.

 All Summer we've been considering the possibility/desire/opportunities of moving to an Island Locale, Caribbean Destination. We both have long had a dream of living in a very warm place surrounded by blue waters and excellent fishing/diving/(insert water activity). The concept of waking up to the sound of the waves and screeching wildlife has a certain appeal. Lizards in the living room, monkeys rearranging the closets, coconut concussions....can't you see how fun that would be? Completely different lifestyle from the one we currently live in Central Alabama.

But, a certain anxiety has accompanied all this consideration. An unease, that I chalked up to excitement and all the logistical machinations of moving to another country during A Pandemic. They are myriad. What to do with the dog and cat? Can we actually work there or do we have to remain a tourist spending tourist dollars? About the only thing that was completely certain was the wardrobe options: very simple. 

I was looking for...I don't know what to call it....a sign, perhaps. Some sort of confirmation of Yay or Nay to tell me This Is The Thing or This Is Not The Thing. 

We had these plans to check out Panama, the Bocas Del Toro province, which is an archipelago on the western end of the country, near Costa Rica and Belize. It's all about fishing and diving and cheap cost of living. We'd talked to a real estate agent there who was going to help us find affordable places to live, an attorney who would help us with all the immigration, and a logistics person to help with the moving of stuff. No contracts signed or anything, just preliminary feelers put out like some sort of octopus poking out a tentacle to see if the water is fine. 

Anyway, we were due to leave on Tuesday, August 10. Plane tickets, hotel reservations, all the right things were in place and good to go. We'd been gone the weekend for Capt to run a few charters for a friend who hadn't had a day off all Summer, and came home Sunday evening. Monday was meant to be spent packing, getting $300 worth of COVID testing (ouch...what a racket that is), dog to the boarding place, ad infinitum. Only, Monday I woke up with a cough, sinus congestion, and a low grade fever. 

You know darn well I'd be treated like I was wiping my Ebola infected blood all over everyone's lips if I'd tried to go into the Atlanta Airport, or get on a plane, and the Panamanian Authorities....I have NO idea what they would do but I doubt a 4-star hotel would be involved.  

So...the trip was postponed. We lost the deposits (1 night's stay) on the hotel rooms, and the plane tickets could only be transferred. Fortunately the COVID tests hadn't been done, and the dog boarding situation was easy enough to cancel. 

We spent most of Monday and Tuesday discussing the situation. Are we really supposed to be leaving the country? Why are we wanting to leave? (Me: Political situation, cultural issues in this country, general disillusionment with the USA and where it seems to be headed, lower cost of living) What would be required to get our selves in order once we're there, and enable us to do the things we REALLY want to do? He wants to lead fly fishing charters. He has a beautiful new boat meant to do just that. He'd have to get the boat there, fish the areas for a year to learn them, before ever even starting the charters. I'm not even sure what I'd be doing. Most of what I enjoy doing are the sorts of things the locals would be doing and last thing I want to do is take work away from people who really need it. Logistically it would be really, really complicated.  We both felt a degree of anxiety, that I was chalking up to excitement but maybe it was unease, or the discomfort of trying to maneuver that square peg. I kept trying to shave off the corners to make it fit in my mind.

Thing is, I am a very firm believer that God opens and shuts doors. He's done so all my life and the times I've shoved through that door, or tried climbing through a window, it's never really gone well.  The times I've recognized a door, either open or shut, and walked through it, or sat down and waited, it has gone exceedingly well. You think I'd have learned by now. We both came to the conclusion that we weren't supposed to be going to Panama right now.  My father called with a "why the hell do you want to go to Panama right now? State Dept issued a No Travel warning!" (are you nuts??...he didn't actually say that out loud but I knew he was thinking it). 

And the funny thing is, once we made the No decision on Panama, moving that is, we both felt a sense of relief. The anxiety I was interpreting as excitement wafted away. Capt enjoyed those charters he ran so very much. He already has people lined up to hire him for fly fishing trips on the Gulf Coast of Florida. The people who are customizing his boat want him to enter it into a boat show in Mobile. He can't do that if it's in Panama (or Belize/Costa Rica/ Enter Caribbean Locale). I will be reachable by my family and can come back up to here (Central Alabama) regularly. We already have a piece of land in Florida that will be simple to get set up for parking the RV and making into a second homesite. It's big enough we can make a second RV parking spot to rent out or let family use. There's so much here that we can easily do without having to involve agents and attorneys and immigration officials. The ONLY issue I have is that...well...I'm so very disillusioned with the way our culture and society seem to be headed and I don't want to participate in it anymore. That, of course, is a whole 'nother topic.

So I've quit trying to fit the square peg into the round hole. Now we're going to go with Plan A...the one we'd originally made before I got an attitude about the way I think Society is crumbling around us. The location of the land in Florida is in a very politically compatible area, there's plenty of work for Capt on easily accessible waterways, it's close enough for family to visit if we ever decide to tell them exactly where we are, and I can keep my embroidery business intact.  Round hole, meet round peg.

Jalapeno Popper Bites because life is better with fried cheese.

 We don't eat a big meal in the evening. We've turned into those old people who eat a big lunch, take a nap, then have an Adult Libation and A Nibble in the evening. Sometimes the nibbles are a simple as potato chips, or a wee bowl of peanuts. We sleep better that way. Capt has a favorite nibble, one that takes a little effort but not so much that I dislike fixing them (that's Southern for "preparing them") (they aren't actually broken). These are ripe for messing with, changing up the seasonings to suit personal tastes, and also for fixing (excuse me...Preparing) a whole bunch ahead of time then just fixing (ahem...) however many or few you want in the moment.  I generally double the recipe, freeze most of them, and pull out however many Capt requires for his Evening Repast. These probably would be fantastic for some sort of sports party (I don't do those) or cookout thing. Anyway, here they are, Capt's favorite nibble:

Fried Jalapeno Popper Bites (double if you want to) (also, alternatives in parenthesis)

Ingredients

Filling

• 8 oz cream cheese, softened
• 2 cups shredded Monterey Jack cheese
• 3 jalapenos, seeded and diced
• 1/4 cup chopped cooked bacon (or 1/2 teaspoon Dark and Smoky Flatiron Pepper)
• 2 Tbsp Sriracha sauce (or some other hot sauce)

Coating

• 1/2 cup all purpose flour (gluten free is fine)
• 1/2 cup Panko bread crumbs (also GF)
• 1/2 cup plain bread crumbs (also GF)
• 1 tsp garlic powder
• 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
• 1/4 tsp black pepper
• 1/4 tsp salt

• 2 eggs, beaten
• 2 tablespoons water

Oil for frying

• Combine the filling ingredients until well mixed. I do it in a stand mixer with a paddle. 
• Using a small cookie scoop (like a tiny ice cream scoop, about 2 tablespoon size), scoop the mix onto parchment paper on a cookie sheet, and stick them in the freezer until solid- 2 or 3 hours.
• Mix the coating stuff together in a bowl, except for the eggs and water.
• Mix the eggs and water together in another bowl.
• Heat several inches of oil- something neutral like canola or vegetable- to 350F. 
• While the oil is heating, roll the cold cheese balls in the egg mix, then coat with the bread crumb mix, and set on a plate.
• When the oil is hot, fry 6-8 at a time until golden brown- roughly 3-4 minutes. Drain on a paper towel and serve warm with Ranch dressing (Capt likes to mix some Flat Iron 4 pepper blend red pepper flakes into the dressing, or gets the Jalapeno Ranch made by Lighthouse)

I make up a double batch of the cheese balls, scoop them out, and freeze them. They all go into a big ziploc bag in the freezer, and I'll fix however many we want (like 6-8) at a time. The coating blend can also be made ahead of time and stored in the freezer. 

Our jalapenos come out of the garden. I reckon, if you're so inclined, you could use a milder pepper like a poblano, or a hotter one like a serrano or even a Hairy Chested Fool type like a habanero.  The first couple of times I put in bacon, but then we had some guests who needed it Halal (like Kosher but for Muslims) so no bacon. I used a bit of smoked pepper blend from Flat Iron Pepper Co. and it gave a lovely hint of smoke and I liked it even better than with the bacon...primarily because I didn't have to fix (prepare) any to go into it, but the flavor was lovely.

An Unpaid Endorsement for Flat Iron Pepper Company: Y'all. They have all sorts of combinations of peppers for all sorts of different applications even one called I Can't Feel My Face that is just the thing to give to your smart-ass son who thinks there's no such thing as a pepper too hot for him. We got some of that, opened it cautiously and sniffed from a distance and both of us our faces went numb. Just the thing. We have most (if not all) of their blends and yes. They're amazing. Some are too hot for my delicate feminine constitution, but they also have milder versions of some of them and those are really good. The flavor blends are kind of like....I don't know....a fine coffee blend or anything else improved by a bit of this and a touch of that. Don't get me wrong, they tend to be hot and if you're someone who can't handle the heat of a jalapeno you might be careful and stick with the Hatch Valley Green and the BBQ rub and use them sparingly. That said...y'all. So good.

Po-tay-toes: smush um, fluff um, mix um with a choux

 More potato things...because who doesn't love taters?  Now, I'd never made pate' choux before. It's the dough that cream puffs and eclairs are made from. Light and crispy and fancy sounded all French and such. Surprisingly easy if you follow the directions to a T. Don't shortcut. Don't substitute margarine for the butter. in fact, NEVER substitute margarine for butter. For anything. I don't care if the recipe says margarine. Just don't. In fact, if you have margarine (and you're not dealing with a dairy allergy or maybe you're a vegan) (though to my knowledge I don't know any vegans) (not intentionally anyway) just back away from the margarine and use the all natural-from-a-cow-as-God-intended-it butter. 

One of the most disappointing culinary experiences in my entire life involved a gorgeous 17 layer caramel cake at a coffee shop. (anyone in the Deep South knows of which I speak. Every Baptist church has at least one person who makes this confectionary miracle and brings it to the 4th Sunday potluck lunch, or it should.)  I got my delicious fresh pour-over coffee and a lovely slice of that glorious cake. My first bite was anticipated like a 6 year old anticipating Christmas. It had been so very long since I'd had a delicious, buttery slice of caramel cake. and....(you see where this is going)....it had been made with margarine. It felt like that 6 year old got socks for Christmas. That were wrapped up in a Nintendo box. I didn't even want another bite though I did in the hopes that maybe my taste buds had somehow briefly glitched and it actually was a butter caramel cake. It wasn't. They hadn't. 

So what I'm saying is this: please use real butter. It doesn't matter if it's salted or unsalted (easier to control the seasoning if it's un- but you do you.) So here's the super fun and easier-than-you'd-think recipe for Potato Puffs.

• 4 small Yukon Gold potatoes, quartered (apparently you can also use russets but Yukon Golds tend to be smaller)

For the pastry dough:

• 1/2 cup water
• 1/4 cup butter
• kosher salt to taste
• 1/2 cup flour (I used gluten free though not grain free)
• 2 large eggs
• 1 pinch cayenne pepper
• 1 pinch ground nutmeg

Preheat the oven to 450F. Generously butter a 24-cup mini muffin pan

Put the potatoes in a pot and boil them until soft. When they're done, drain off the water, peel, and mash them until smooth. I used a ricer so they had no lumps at all. I don't think you'd want any lumps.

For the dough, bring the water and butter to a boil, with a bit of salt. Turn off the heat and add the flour, stirring vigorously to make a kind of stiff dough. Put it over into a mixing bowl and smush up the sides of the bowl so it will cool quickly. When it's cool, add the eggs and beat until it's smooth. I used a stand mixer with the whisk attachment. A hand mixer would work just fine.  Add the potatoes and beat some more, until it's smooth.

Scoop about 2 tablespoons of the mixture into each well greased (IMPORTANT. Don't assume because it might be non-stick that you don't want it buttered) muffin cup. Bake for 20 minutes. Let them sit one minute after taking them out of the oven, then turn onto a wire rack to cook 5 minutes. Serve warm with butter.

Note: I think you could add chopped herbs/chives/bacon to the dough. I don't know how cheese would affect the way they puff up.

I want to try making the dough ahead of time (maybe the day before) and see if that messes with the quality of the end product. Since it doesn't have any leavening in it there's no time-specific chemical reaction taking place that would be ruined by a long wait. It would be nice to be able to make it ahead of time, because it kind of takes up a lot of counter space.

I made these in 2 batches because I have just one 12-cup mini muffin pan. Everyone kept "testing the first batch for quality control purposes". (You know, you don't want to serve substandard food to guests. Here, let me check one to see if they're any good. Ok, I'd better check again to be sure. Hey guests, try one and see if you think they're ok. Try another one to be sure.)  They were light, potato-y crispy goodness, like a cross between a pre-stuffed cream puff and a tater-tot only smooth. I kept the slim remainder of the first batch warm while the second batch baked and there was no loss of quality. Even at the end of the meal when everything was cooled off and there were 4 left, those were still delicious. I really would use a ricer to mash the taters. It makes such a smooth, chunkless result. If you're a more diligent sort than I, and can make perfectly smooth mash without one, more power to you. 

For your viewing pleasure, here's some Yukon Gold potatoes.

Po-tay-toes....boil um fry um stick um in a stew

 See, here's the thing. Between my undying love of potatoes and our decision (medical reasons) to eliminate all grains from our diet, I am trying out many new things potato related. Capt has developed grain allergies. Like, seriously. Not just "oh look everyone says grain's bad and I immediately hop on whatever dietary bandwagon is currently trundling down the culinary fad-train track all over Internet Celebrity Hype-Thing". No. We're talking diabetes, gut issues, you-name-it. Here's what happened when grain was eliminated:

• Diabetes (Type 2) went away. 
• 45 pounds went away
• Diverticulosis/Diverticulitis disappeared
• Lifelong cholesterol reading of 250+ dropped to 170
• Arthritis and inflammation is gone.

That's not to say it's been easy. Grain is everywhere, even in places you don't expect like most soy sauce (contains wheat), flavored/preseasoned mixes (maltodextrin is often made from wheat), commercially made salad dressings, snacks, even the seasonings on many flavors of potato chips. And, once you've eliminated the stuff from your diet, all it takes is a couple of bites of something containing a grain product to bring all those above-mentioned issues roaring back.  Even eating something fried in oil that also fried a wheat product can cause a reaction. 

This makes eating out really difficult. We love eating out, trying new things, and having someone else clean up after the meal. Not anymore...too risky. SO...we are trying new stuff at home. I know it sounds like we've gone all carb-free. This isn't true. We love our carbs. We're just getting them in the form of potatoes now. Mmm I love taters.  Capt spends a lot of time sifting through the internet, looking for new ways to prepare potatoes that don't just taste like a reiteration of a baked potato. 

We had some friends here for a couple of days recently, and an opportunity to try out a couple of recipes on them, with amazing success. I mean...DELICIOUS. Probably more effort than, say, wrapping a tater in foil and shoving it in the oven for a couple of ours, but I love to cook, and mucking around in the kitchen with things like taters and sharp cheese and probably an obscene amount of butter doesn't hurt anyone's feelings at all. Especially when said tater dish is paired up with a delicious marinated steak & chimichurri sauce, or a medium rare grilled eye of round.

So here's the first one we did (seriously, one of those things that is greater than the sum of it's ingredients)

Steakhouse Potatoes Romanoff

• 1 teaspoon of butter or maybe more
• 3 large russet potatoes, scrubbed
• 2 shallots, minced
• 2 teaspoons kosher salt
• 1/2 teaspoon white pepper (preferably freshly ground)
• pinch of cayenne pepper (or to taste)
• 2-1/2 cups grated sharp white cheddar (or yellow but I think white's prettier)
• 1-3/4 cups sour cream

THE DAY BEFORE YOU WANT THIS:

Preheat the oven to 400F (200C)  

Wrap each potato in foil and bake for about 90 minutes or until vey tender. Let them cool to room temperature then put them in the fridge until completely chilled- 8 hours to overnight.

THE DAY YOU WANT THIS:

Preheat the oven to 425F (220C) Butter a baking dish generously

Shred the potatoes into a large bowl using a cheese grater. Add the minced shallots. (you want about 1/3 a cup of shallots). Season with the white pepper, salt, and cayenne pepper. Gently toss all this with 2 forks (important! You want it to stay really fluffy!) until combined. Add the cheddar cheese and toss again with the forks. (important! You want it to stay really fluffy!)

Dollop the sour cream onto the potato/cheese stuff in about 1-2 tablespoon sized blobs. Gently stir it in with the forks until barely combined. Pile the mixture gently into the baking dish, fluffing it with the fork and piling high, then pat down very gently, keeping the top kind of rough.

Bake in the preheated oven for 30-35 minutes, until piping hot and the top is browned.

Notes: I think it would benefit from some minced chives on top.

Tomorrow, I'll put up the recipe for the potato puffs...kind of a hybrid between a pate' choux puff pastry and a potato ball. Because why not. Who doesn't love a crispy pate' choux pastry? 

Did I take pictures? Of course not. Putting that stuff on the counter with a delicious grilled eye of round meant it lasted about 10 minutes, amid exclamations of delight and stuff. I never think to take a picture until it's all gone. Just take my word for it. Have I ever lead you wrong? No, not intentionally. So here's a picture of a plain old russet potato:

Where to go, what to do

 So, we looked at St Croix. It's a lovely place with interesting people and if we had the sort of income that allowed it, would probably live there. However, the cost of living rivals Manhattan and Los Angeles, and that's not feasible.

Then we looked at Roatan. The cost of living is definitely doable, but the vast disparity between Haves and Have-Nots, and the...well...(shall we say)...Interesting state of the infrastructure kind of put us off. We've also had several people tell us "The island will speak to you. It will either welcome you or push you away." We felt that with both St Croix and Roatan.

So, on to the next one. We have bought tickets and made necessary arrangement to go to Panama. We are reading all we can find about it. It's an interesting place. The most I knew about it involved Banana Republic comments and Manuel Noriega and a couple of molas my Mom had. (Molas are a type of textile technique akin to quilting but not quite that.) Panama City is a very modern place, with all the amenities of any good American city. David (pronounced dah-VEED) is a smaller place, but has a Costco which...y'know...is a benchmark of sorts. We aren't looking at those places but it's nice to know they're there. We are looking at the island archipelago of Bocas Del Toro province. Fishing, diving, boating, looooww cost of living, decent housing, fruits, backpacking trust-fund babies with armpit hair and braids, a bar-hopping event called Filthy Friday in which we are unlikely to participate, and apparently all you need is a bike or a golf cart to get around (or a boat). We're going to take a week and check it out, and decide what's what.

Then, come home and discuss. Look at pictures, crunch numbers, talk to Abram (our Bocas Contact), and think/pray/sleep on it. 

See, here's the thing. I'm tired of being predictable. I'm tired of living by everyone else's expectations and wondering what would they think about it and do I need their approval to do something I've always wanted to do, and knowing I probably wouldn't get it. Go on a week-long trip and bring back a t-shirt and a seashell? Oh sure, they'd be all for that, as long as I come back and return to doing all the good and proper middle-aged woman things of which the world approves. 

But I'm tired of being Properly Approved. I want to live the second half of my life joyfully, not just contentedly. I want to go several weeks wearing nothing but flipflops and shorts and a t-shirt and a stack of silver bangles on my left wrist. I want to find a group of people who are also living joyfully. 

Now, I know we might get down there and not be spoken to by the place. If that happens, it happens. I'm open to it happening. If it does we will keep looking. Probably take a break from it for a couple of months so we can catch our breath and research...but keep looking.

There are certain criteria. Shallows fly-fishing is a must. Capt has a beautiful flats boat he wants to take people on chartered fly fishing trips. St Croix didn't have much, Roatan had more, Panama is full of it. So are the Alabama and Florida Gulf Coasts. There's some great places along there, and moving to the Gulf Coast would certainly be logistically simpler, especially since we already have an RV that's comfortable for living in.

We wouldn't be the first people ever to do this. The Caribbean, Central and South America are full of expats who decided a change was in order. The internet, cell phones, Skype, and email have made communication with people all over the world a snap. While it's not the same as hugging your grandkid, if we lived in Kansas the effect would be about the same.

I imagine having the Grandpunkins for 5 weeks of Summer vacation. I can picture it. They start back on the first day of 5th grade and the teacher assigns the ubiquitous "What I Did On Summer Vacation" essay, and it involves "learned to scuba dive in a Central American country" and "learned how to speak Garifuna". How cool would that be? My 5th grade essays said things like "I went swimming in a pond and got a leech". I would love for our kids to be able to come visit, and expand their horizons.

One of the things Capt has been saying all along, was that he's spent the first half of his life making people work, grinding them up to make a profit for someone else. He wants the second half to be spent helping them have fun. Fly fishing, teaching them to scuba dive, and I want to help facilitate that in whatever way I can. Maybe I can make a memento of their fun, or feed them while they're making those memories. Maybe I can find a group of women with a common interest and a way to use it to help others.

We'll figure it out. I'm glad we're finally in that spot to be able to actively work on it.

Here's a random picture of a red hibiscus for your viewing pleasure.

Diving in Roatan

 Ok, so we took this trip to Roatan, Honduras with the local dive shop, Adventure Sports. Great place, I highly recommend it if you're in the area and want to learn how to dive. Anyway, the point of the trip was to see some great stuff and we did! 

This would be me. 

and this would be Capt. 

First, the experience all around was lovely. We were at The Mayan Princess resort (all inclusive...just go to the bar and tell them what you want, reservations were necessary for the restaurants), and there was a dive shop affiliated. Our captain, Clyde, and divemaster, Mark, were competent and attentive. WE DIDN'T HAVE TO SET UP OUR OWN GEAR. Let me tell you, schlepping giant tanks and weights and BCD's and all the bells and whistles can be a pain in the ass, and having someone else do it, all we had to do was show up and step on the boat...that was the height of luxury. Bowls of fruit, fresh water, cookies...lovely. Diving is hungry work.

I can't tell you the names of all the places we dove but I'll describe them. We did a couple of reefs quite near the resort to start out. They were...ok. They'd suffered something called White Band Disease so there was a lot of dead staghorn-type coral and the other corals weren't super healthy looking. Later in the week we took a boat ride to the east, away from the populated areas and the reefs were much nicer- more populated with fish, and the corals were more plentiful.

Did you know sponges come in blue?

One thing I didn't see, and this puzzled me, were bait balls. Bait balls are these enormous schools of millions of little sardine/minnow sized fish. They're toward the bottom of the food chain, an necessary for a healthy ecosystem. I also didn't see larger predatory fish like barracuda, but I could have just been in the wrong place. 

Pretty blue fish

There were turtles (joy!) and spotted eagle rays, parrotfish, queen angels, and blue herring. The water was delightfully warm at about 80F and for the most part, quite clear. Capt spent time working with me on balancing in the water (not as easy as you'd think) and we did our own thing apart from the group mostly. There was a "swim through" that actually qualified as a "cave dive" because much of the swim was completely covered over by...well...cave. I was kind of intrigued by it, though there wasn't much to see. I played with some jellyfish (the non-stinging kind), pointed at sea urchins and discussed a sea cucumber with other members of the group. Mutual consensus decided it looked like an enormous turd.

A sea turtle, taking a nap under some coral

The night dive was amazing. A.MAZE.ING. Tiny little fish came out, and they glowed blue in my UV flashlight. Little jellyfish had rows of blinking orange lights up the middle of their bodies. Brain corals glow like something out of a New York City Rave. And an octopus put on a show! I don't know if he was trying to intimidate us, or knew we were excited to see him so he (she? I didn't ask)spread out and wiggled the tips of his tentacles at us. She (he?) was a solid 3 feet across. Capt and I kind of went off on our own, and he discovered another, smaller octopus who was shy and not the exhibitionist like the first one.

I wildly enjoyed the trip. Traveling is something I've always loved. Even the "inconveniences" of airports...I mean, seriously. inconvenienced? How long would it take to ride a horse to Roatan, not to mention having to go through Mexico, etc. Hopping on a plane after standing in line for an overpriced cup of weak coffee ain't no thang.

Next: Bocas Del Toro, Panama. We're taking a few weeks to stay home and maybe tidy up a bit, work on figuring things out, see what's what.

Recovery Mode

 Ok, so a couple of days ago (I think...it's Wednesday....I think.) we returned from a week in Roatan, Honduras. It was a dive trip organized by Adventure Sports, Auburn and hecka fun it was, too! We were housed in a gorgeous resort, did some lovely diving in an assortment of reefs, including a night dive where I got to see my first every live-in-it's-natural-habitat octopus. Bucket list item checked. Capt got some good video of it, and I haven't yet figured out how to put that up here without chewing up so much bandwidth the computer goes on strike. 

Capt took this picture on one of the dives. Pretty, right?

Anyway, we figured out that Roatan isn't where we want to go. Yes, it was a lovely place but it didn't speak to us. 

One the plus side, did you know that you don't need a prescription to get an antibiotic? My body decided to cultivate a raging bladder infection. I was kind of freaking out about it, although there was an urgent care center a couple of blocks away, and one of the members of our group was a physician. Someone told me "you don't need a script and the pharmacy is that blue building right there." So I asked the doctor what I needed and was able to get it for a pittance and boom, all done. That was nice. And yes, it worked so I know it was real and not little cornstarch pills.

Now we're home, we also imported a Honduran Head Cold. COVID! shouts the world. No, a head cold. It lasted 4 days and other than a little residual congestion we're fine. 8 loads of laundry, lovingly separated by colors by Capt, because he knows I'm picky like that, and washed by Capt because I was sound asleep on the couch for 2 days. (good man). He also made a big pot of chicken soup, heavy on the garlic, because good man and it's what I need when I'm sick.

On the minus side, when we got home and I stepped out of the truck, I smelled a stench. I thought it was the dog, who's a big German Shepherd and prone to rolling in dead things. It wasn't the dog. I heard a chiming sound, of the sort made by our large freezer as an alert when something isn't right. Upon approaching said freezer, the stench became stronger and I realized something terrible was amiss with it.  Yup, Freezer wasn't frozen. Contents were not only not frozen, but were ambient temperature and making themselves unpleasantly known. So I called Dad to ask if there was some sort of electrical issue. "Yes, there was a lightning storm Sunday night (exactly the day after we left) that set our stove on fire and blew out several of our appliances. I checked your place and didn't see anything wrong." Unfortunately, the freezer was packed with a couple $K worth of meats, casseroles, seafood, vegetables....it was a big freezer.  Capt did some investigations and determined that the storm blew up the compressor on the freezer. Dangit. We aren't going to replace it just yet. No need to spend the money on it if we're just going to move somewhere else soon.

So, why not Roatan? What didn't speak to us?  Well, it's a bit on the Third World side, where we were. The area was said to be the Happening Side, with the businesses and amenities. And yes there were a couple of great restaurants and the sort of shopping that appeals to the cruise ships. But the roads were terrible, food would be purchased from individual vendors "The Fruit Guy, The Fish Lady, etc...and you have to know who they are.  I talked to a woman who moved there in 2005, and she told be about how wonderful it was to have to figure all that out and how awful more developed places were. Having spent some times in St Croix (a More Developed Place) I appreciated her perspective on it and am very glad I talked with her about it. I think if we were in our 20's or 30's it would be an exciting adventure, but we are not. I want to know some things are readily available- like excellent medical care, good BBQ, and a library. And fairly regular mail service. 

The one thing Roatan had going for it was low living expenses. Rent is cheap, but electricity is sketchy unless you put in solar or a generator. Those are expensive because they have to be imported. Water is collected in cisterns, and that means bottled water or a super-filter for drinking. Also...soap doesn't lather. That's disconcerting. Capt said at one point "I want to live somewhere that soap lathers. This is making me nuts." It's funny how you figure out these details but really, even though it seems like a small thing it's kind of like...do you really want to marry someone who squeezes the toothpaste in the middle, or loads the toilet paper wrong onto the holder? It's those little things that eventually drive you crazy. 

So the upshot is...Roatan is a great place to visit. The diving was fabulous. We ate at this restaurant that was a 200 yard walk down the beach, called The Argentine Grill where I had the most amazing skirt steak ever...so good that I had it twice in one day. And the second time I said "no sides, I just want the meat." Everyone thought I was a bit odd until I let them have a bite.  It wouldn't hurt my feelings to go back for another visit.

So where to next? We're looking at the Florida Keys, still considering St. Croix, and want to check out parts of Panama and maybe Belize. Staying in the US type of territories would be the least complicated, logistically speaking, but in the long run places like Panama or Belize may be more economical.

In the mean time, I'm going to sit here and sip on a Cruzan Rum Painkiller:

• 2-4 oz Cruzan Aged Rum (made on St Croix) 
• 4 oz pineapple juice,
• 2 oz orange juice
• 1 oz coconut cream (which I could eat right out of the can but won't)

Put all this in a big shaker with a lot of ice and shake it up until nice and cold, and pour into a big glass. Enjoy while writing or thinking about a tropical locale.

Considerations

 There's a lot to think about when one considers moving to an island, especially if it's part of a whole 'nother country. Medical care and can I get the maintenance meds I need to function properly. Is the climate ok? Can I bring my pets? Will I forever have to drink bottled water? (Actually no, we have an incredible water filter called a Berkey that makes it possible to drink pond water a bear pooped in, and it's portable). Will I fit in? Will I make friends? Is there a church we can attend? Basically all the same questions I'd ask if we were moving to, say, West Fleahop, Arkansas, or maybe Idaho or something. Only without the winter clothes. And more fruit.

This upcoming week (June 26-July 3) we will be in Roatan, Honduras, an island about 35 miles off the mainland. Many flurries of internet searches and forums and blog reading by resident expats are encouraging. Low cost of living, decent health care unless you have serious issues (we don't), our pets can come, food grows on trees and shows up in boats regularly. No Walmart. No Home Depot. Sketchy electrical service. Did I mention there's no Walmart? This is not a problem to me.

A couple of weeks ago we were in St Croix, also investigating. It has a Home Depot but no Walmart. The cost of living is significantly higher, but it's also a US territory thus there's no funny stuff about moving there other than logistics. Capt has a standing job offer, but we want to look at Roatan first. I mean...the cost of living difference is substantial, unless we can find a very inexpensive place in St Croix..

Looking at Roatan...holy cow. 2 BR casitas (little house) ON THE BEACH for $350/month. Even an AirBnB house (includes utilities) that allows pets is $800/mo...beach view...screened...dang.  In St Croix the lowest cost we found was a 1 BR efficiency thing for $650, not including utilities, 3rd floor no yard.

Oh my word and the possibilities. See, Capt has a really nice flats boat for fly fishing. He wants to do charters for folks. "I want to spend the last half of my life helping people have fun" he said. The flats fishing in St Croix is limited. In Roatan, there's some of the best in the Caribbean. Roatan also has nice tax incentives for people bringing tourism boosters in. Same situation for artisans who make stuff there...y'know...like handsewn/embroidered goods/souvenir type things of a sort I do already.

None of this is written in stone. We may get there and decide "it's a nice place to visit but I wouldn't want to live here."  Our initial reaction to St Croix was just that and less so, until we took a tour around the island and saw the rest of it, and Capt talked to Ms Molly and got a job offer. That said, if we fall in love with Roatan chances are St Croix 2.0 will be cancelled and those funds will be reallocated to relocation expenses. 

Here's the nice bit...it may be a whole 'nother country, but it's still just a 3.5 hour flight from Atlanta. It may be a part of one of the most dangerous banana republic countries in the world, but it isn't really because it's a Honduran Cash Cow and they know where their bread is buttered and won't screw with it therefore the crime rate on that particular island is extremely low. However people still put bars on their windows and turn a guard dog loose when they're not home. (at least the person who's blog I read does) That may be why crime is low. My dog is about as far from a guard dog (other than being an alarmist) as I am from being a Victoria's Secret Angel. Y'know...the parts are all there but the proportions are very different. 

So this next week will be spent at a luxury resort there. 3 dives a day for 5 days, all the food and beverages (both Adult Libations and Otherwise) we want. Capt has said we may forgo one of the days and do some investigations. One of the things about diving is that you can't do it within 24 hours of flying, because of nitrogen absorption issues (complicated but just know it's a bad idea. Getting Bent* at 35,000 feet is a BAD IDEA) so we could take that final day and do some exploration.

*Bent/The Bends is a situation where a diver ascends too quickly and rather than being properly off-gassed back into your into your bloodstream, the nitrogen from the air breathed (air is 21% oxygen, ~78% nitrogen, and ~1% Other) forces it's way out in bubbles that get caught up in the diver's joints and skin and it's SUPER painful and can be life threatening. Even if you ascend properly during a dive, if you fly too soon after and the remainder of the nitrogen in your system isn't fully reabsorbed, you'll get the Bends (or "get Bent") as the airplane ascends. Thus, on dive trips like this one, the last day before the flight home is spent relaxing by the pool, consuming rum punch and delicious food, and maybe touring around looking for the perfect gift for your Mom who wishes she could travel.

Maybe I've lost my mind, maybe I found it.

 

You know, on the surface it seems...kind of...Frivolous? Half-cocked? I can safely say with a great deal of confidence it's neither of those things. The simplest take is that, at the age of 53, I was in a place in my life to meet a person who's dreams for the future perfectly matched mine, and he has the gumption to actually pursue them in a tangible way. And we have given it a LOT of thought.

Here's probably where I'd be right now, if we'd not met: I'd be living in this house we're in right now, working during the days as a caregiver or perhaps an office administrator. I'd come home, cook supper for myself and my parents, watch a couple of hours of Murder, She Wrote with Mom, then come home, go to bed, lather, rinse, repeat. Occasionally I'd watch a documentary on some exotic location, but never consider the possibility of actually visiting it. Probably now and then I'd think "gee wouldn't it be fun to (insert fun thing)" but never actually do it because I'd have to get up the next morning and lather, rinse, repeat. I wouldn't have bought a truck for myself, or a camper/RV thing and traveled to Florida to figure out that further South is where I'd rather be.

Honestly, I think my world would be small. It would rotate around parents and children and I wouldn't even give any thought to what I wanted/wished for. I'd go to church on Sunday, do laundry on Monday, eat pork chops on Wednesday, and have a glass of wine on Friday. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I think about that a lot...if I would have the courage alone to do the things I am doing now. Probably not. In the grand scheme of things I can be fairly cautious. I want to make sure all the bases are covered. All the i's are dotted and the t's are crossed. Twice. And I can get kind of nervous when they aren't. When you have 4 kids and are the one who does all the household management while they're growing up, it is necessary to be careful about all that stuff. 

Now, though...they're all grown and tending for themselves. Oh sure, they still need Mom but the support role is drastically different now. Most of the time they just want to tell me something, ask cooking advice, or sleep in the backyard hammock. That can mostly be done from anywhere. If I'm not around with an available hammock, they have the resources to ask a brother for help.

That gives me a lot of leeway now. I mean, I can go to...I don't know....Central America, Palau, Outer Mongolia, The Moon...and their lives would not be drastically affected and I might have a good time more so than the Laundry on Monday Wine on Friday routine. I've also got a driving force named Capt who says things like "why not?" when I say stuff like "but..."

And now he's got some very viable plans to make other people happy by taking them fly fishing in beautiful parts of the world, teaching other people how to "have the most fun you can have with your clothes on" (scuba diving), and I get to participate by being in those lovely locations and doing things I enjoy (helping other folks) and if I can do it with the philosophy of making their good times be as good as they possibly can be, then there we are. 

I don't know exactly where I am going to fit into the place we wind up- wherever that may be. But I've usually managed to find a place to serve. I'm excited though, that we are actually probably GOING somewhere that makes other folks go WOW. What would they say if I said HEY GUYS I'M SO EXCITED WE'RE MOVING TO WEST FLEAHOP, ARKANSAS (Missouri, Idaho, Vermont)?

Definitions

 I have been using a lot of acronyms, and will continue to in the name of efficiency. That said, I'm going to list them, as well as what certain other things actually mean, so you can follow along (also so I can follow along....so many things to remember!)

SCUBA: Self Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus...also a thing people do when they think they have more money than they actually do....Also a sport that is very gadget-heavy. There is ALWAYS One. More. Thing to get. Or something wears out. Or a better version comes along 3 months after the return policy expires. Or it comes out in another color.

PADI: Professional Association of Dive Instructors. Also an agency that trains and certifies people for SCUBA diving. Capt is a PADI instructor, so he can train people to become divers

SSI: SCUBA Schools International. Another certification agency. Capt is also an SSI instructor

DAN: Diver's Alert Network: A multifold agency that handles the medical issues associated with diving. A DAN certified person is, in essence, an EMT (Emergency Medical Technician) trained in the emergency treatment of dive/marine injuries. DAN also provides medical insurance coverage for dive trips. Capt is also a DAN instructor- so he can train people to be DAN certified.

Regs: regulators.....those things that have tubes and hook onto the top of the tank and go to the second stage part that the diver sticks in his/her mouth. They take the high pressure compressed air in the tanks and stage it so it can be breathed without blowing your lungs up.

Octo: a secondary second stage regulator. for redundancy/safety. It has a yellow hose and reg mouthpiece for easy identification in a panic situation.

NITROX: also called EANx....Enriched Air Nitrox and the x is the percentage of enrichment. We breathe 21% Nitrox...Nitrogen/oxygen. EANx/Nitrox, when it's used in SCUBA diving, is a breathing gas blend with a higher percentage of oxygen...the x stands in for the percentage. So EAN32 is 32% oxygen, and so on. The advantage to breathing enriched is that your intervals between dives are shortened, and you have less fatigue after the dives. You can also generally stay in the water longer because you're absorbing less nitrogen.

BCD: Buoyance Compensator Device...a fancy pants name for that vest thing the tank is strapped to, all your hoses and bits and pieces are attached to, and can cost as much as your left kidney. It has bladders in the back that you can fill with air to allow yourself to either float on the surface, or release the air to sink into the water, and use to maintain "neutral buoyancy in the water...that is, neither sink to the bottom nor float to the top. Skilled divers know how to manage their buoyancy to the point where they need neither extra weights nor extra air in the BCD. I am not one of those divers.  Yet.

Weights: Yes. Most divers strap weights to their waist in a belt, or have integrated weight pockets in their BCD. The weights are necessary because if you have a big tank of compressed air on your back, it floats. If you're wearing a wetsuit, you'll float. You need something to counteract all that. Thus, weights.

Wetsuits: You know, makes you look awesome because they're a tight neoprene whole-body girdle that also happens to keep you warm in the water. If only they were comfortable on land. Sigh. It's also near impossible to sink in one because it's foam, unless you have on weights.

Spit: a thickish goo you rub on the inside of your mask to keep it from fogging up when you're underwater. No seriously, it is. And it's better than the stuff after which it's named. Comes in a bottle and there's always someone on the boat who forgets theirs and is borrowing yours.

Viz: Short for visibility...that is, how far you can see underwater. "How's viz?" "Fabulous! Gin-clear!" or maybe "It sucked! I couldn't see Sarah's hot pink fins from 3 feet away!"

Safety-Stop: Without going into the physics of deep diving and nitrogen absorption issues, a safety stop is a point at about 15 feet down where you stop on your ascent at the end of the dive and wait 3 minutes, to help facilitate the reabsorption of nitrogen and keep from getting The Bends. It's also a good spot to swap hairy eyeballs with barracuda. 

No seriously. They just hang there and accuse you of not being a small fish.

More terms to come as I think of them. Also, if you have any questions, please ask! If I can't answer them I know someone who can.

Oh, The Places We Go

 When I first met Capt, in 2017, one of the things he told me was of his desire to eventually end up in Bocas del Toro, Panama. I didn't know squat about Panama, other than it was warm, there was a canal, and in the 1970's-80's it had political issues. Thanks to the Internet and all it's glory, I did some reading up and discovered it is a Tropical Paradise. Ok, I thought...lovely idea! Having been in the Caribbean as a teen, I knew what that meant and knew it was a good thing to want to live there.

Move ahead 3 years. Capt convinced me to learn to scuba dive. I've snorkeled before, and thought being able to go underwater and stay there long enough to actually look at creatures would be fun. So in January of 2020, I signed up, and in February actually started with the lessons. In March the world (and scuba lessons) shut down, with no assurance of when it would start back. Eventually lessons started back and I was able to earn my Open Water and Nitrox certifications. Capt earned several advanced certifications and went to Sea School to formalize his boat captain licenses. He'd been diving for close to 15 years.

The Lockdown of the World gave him plenty of time to do all this schooling (most of it being online, and if you think about it, SCUBA is the ultimate in Social Distancing because you have your own air source), and gave me plenty of time to Research Where. After roughly 18 months, he had all the important things, and I had lots of information.

A few weeks ago, once everything was fully finalized and Pro numbers recorded, job hunting commenced. One of the things learned was that there's more availability via word-of-mouth than what shows on the marketplace/pro channels online. But still...where to go? Crete/Greece? Maldives? Indonesia? Lots of work there. I opined that staying closer to home would be my preference. Maybe not Florida....not THAT close. Frankly, I wanted to be somewhere that took more effort than normal to get to, in order to ensure no one would "just drop by". Not so expensive to get to that no one would ever visit, but far enough that planning was required. More research.  Someplace we could afford to comfortably live on a boat captain/dive instructor's income, maybe (hopefully) I could also find work in a shop or a restaurant or something. 

Plenty of places were considered. We started with the HELL YEAH places...you know the ones...they are sung about in songs by Kenny Chesney, Zac Brown, and Mac McAnally, and involve "toes in the water" lyrics. A little digging and we determined that one had to be independently wealthy, of the Kenny Chesney and Mac McAnally sort, to live there. (looking at Y'ALL, St Thomas and St John!). Once those were eliminated, we went to the HECK YEAH places, like St Croix, Roatan, and Bocas Del Toro. St. Croix (a US territory) saw a couple of job offers. One was investigated further and determined to be insufficient, Another is in the process of further investigation so has yet to be determined. Bocas was looked into, but tourism has fallen off so sharply (looking at YOU, COVID!) they aren't wanting to hire anyone new right now. Roatan is very promising but we haven't met anyone in person yet....which brings me to our upcoming trip.

Back in December 2020, the shop through which Capt trained for many of his certifications planned a trip to Roatan and asked him to consider coming along, as there would be several new divers going. It was a good price for such a thing, all-inclusive, and apparently the diving there is spectacular. It would also give him an opportunity to meet in person the owner of a dive shop, that he'd been talking to about working there. So we paid for the trip, made plans, and I started thinking "shorts or sundress? Do I want to get a new skin* (not literally. Back off, Buffalo Bill!), a boob job? a haircut?" Capt continued scouting the job postings. 

So now, the trip is 6 days away. I didn't get a new skin, a boob job, nor a haircut. I got a decent tan and a couple of string bikinis because nothing shouts self confidence (or maybe self delusion) more than a 56 year old woman in a string bikini.  Capt has a job interview, and since there are myriad dive shops on the island, and we learned the power of the Dive Shop Grapevine on St. Croix (more on that later), the potential on Roatan is fairly robust.

Research into the cost of living there is very encouraging. Lots of American and Canadian expats live there. We'd have to learn Spanish, which I can read fairly well but if a person is talking fast I'm lost. People eat fish, fruit, and vegetables. Deodorant is nearly impossible to come by. We're going to check it out whenever we aren't underwater or eating. 

So right now, our lives are in this sort of holding pattern. We are investigating. We spent several days in St Croix, scoping out the situation and getting 2 offers, one of which was firmly but graciously refused, another of which will possibly be investigated pending the results of the Roatan trip. The cost of living is much higher in St Croix, but it is a US Territory so moving there would be much less complicated. Worst case scenario, we got to spend 3 weeks in the Caribbean this Summer. Best case, we have our choice of where to go. The whole point of Capt getting all his certifications was to make himself marketable, in a career path he'd been dreaming of his entire adult life....and that was successfully accomplished.

In his words, he wants to spend the rest of his life "making people happy." 

So now the question is this: Where am I in all this? I have a skill set that is also useful. I have a degree in business management. I'm adaptable. I'll find my niche as I always do.

*a skin is a long sleeve rash guard and leggings made of swimsuit material, excellent protection against jellyfish stings, and available in all manner of prints I normally usually wouldn't be caught dead in but oh so pretty.