After not going in yesterday to work (due to my psychic hotline working, which I didn't know until this morning) I went in to find they were still digging up the road 4 feet away from the cart. Trucks were passing by about half a foot from the closed space so there was no way I was opening, even with the most elegant Treat of the Day tucked under my arm.(This is just a really beautiful boat slightly outside my bay)
A gasoline container was tucked under my other arm. A stack of papers was in my backpack, attesting to the fact that I could transfer my now fixed vehicle into my name. So off to gas station, where I got my 2 gallons. I dropped that off at a friend's shop and it was off to the PO to mail some hot sauce that I was sadly late in sending. Then to the collecteria to try to do car business...finding out there was yet one more thing I needed. Something to prove that my friend Nancy, no longer on this plane (but buzzing around on occasion, believe you me) left no debts to the world we live in around here. So if she did, what would they do? I shudder to think. So I have to bother her dear husband for information to satisfy the gestapo in Fajardo. Argh and sigh.
As I trudged down the road with my container of gasoline, a woman walking asked if I'd like a ride. She is a visitor here, didn't know me, but saw me carrying this load and offered a ride. She and her husband love Culebra...they were staying at some friends who own a home here. Driving in the rutted roads she went on about how she just was enjoying getting out and about as her grandchildren were coming in a day or so. What a joy. Thanks!
The car works. I don't have the marbetta yet but that doesn't keep me from gambling on taking little rides to Genesis just because I can. I got two bags of planting dirt and thought I'd go take a ride back in the Corenel horror show...but there are BIG BIG BIG concrete bumps and my little car would perhaps die again on them. I'll have to walk it sometime. There is a for sale sign under the big sign...Tropical Real Estate. People I know and like. But I don't like this.
What is hard about living on little islands is maybe what is hard about living in little towns and villages. You know everyone. There may be a few you seriously dislike, but not many. And there may be some you like that you dislike what they do. Therein lies a dilemma...or not. You can always still wave and smile. Unless it gets down to the dirty bottom line and then you have to say...the truth as you see it. Usually, life just goes on and eventually you wave and smile again...or you don't.
So it goes. I wish I was able to not care. I wish I could just enjoy the huge beauty here and my little life. But I'm not wired that way (trust me, I've tried NOT to be me - it's implosive). Maybe my children call it best..."Mom, youve gone too far!" They used to just say that. Now they add, in the afternoon of their adulthood as I move into my own early evening, "and we know that you've got to do it, it's who you are...and we love you anyway."
And therein lies the comfort. On a pretty quiet Thursday - which wasn't quiet outwardly at all.
To lighten up a lot! here are some pics from the regatta I saw...not the actual regatta though!
A little bit of every body
Bringing in the spinnaker...I love those sails!
Into the sunset
Marks are in, race is done for the day
If I tell this whole story...ok, here is the short version. It's too good not to share. A friend has a cat in horrible distress all night. Early in the morning she was prepared to go to the big island to the vet, emergency style. So what for the two jobs? The cat was in hell. She finds out, lo and behold, that the vet in question was on Culebra for the Regatta! He tells her to go to the public dock and meet him as he's to race at 9. She gets the cat into the carrier, then into the dinghy and meets the vet at the dock. The vet diagnoses the problem as a clogged penis. He...fixes the problem, showing her how to fix it if it ever occurs again. Think kidney stone. On a cat. Ok. So...later in the day a number of us are at the regatta headquarters (hate to write the name of CB - but there we were) and this young man passes by us in a t shirt that says "The only job I need is a blow job." Well, while the cat did NOT need a blow job, he certainly got a job of a different sort and without a word, the four of us burst into spontaneous guffaws. The young man said his t shirt had gotten quite a few responses but none quite like that so we told him the story of the cat. At the end he was stripping off his tee shirt. He said, I must take off my t shirt to this story and give it to you. The owner of the cat gave it to the cat. And that is why this photo of this young man is here. God bless a man who has a sense of humor and the sense to act on it!
Mackey, who had no clogged bits, was enjoying the peaceful end of the day
The wind had died, but that didn't stop the Medalla boys, who brought us a 6 pack of Medalla for helping their buddy...or something
Sunday morning...absolutely windless...boats every which way
Sister Tortola dinghies of different mothers
There is no comment that could describe how hard I laughed at this one. Oh, and I am so glad your car got returned to you. . .and working at that.
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