Today I spent an hour (blowing off work) at Starbuck’s with 2 of my closest women friends. I had a Mocha Frappucino and enjoyed every one of the 14 trillion calories the thing had in it. I’ll be living on water and celery for the rest of the week.

The conversation ranged far and wide. It was a little more interesting than is normal for us; we usually talk about mundane subjects like the lack of good yogurt in Cancun, or why our men don’t ravish us more often, or peanut butter. But in this one hour we touched on many interesting subjects; you can cover a lot in a short time when you’ve got 3 people, hyped on caffeine, who all talk at once and who are so intuitive that they don’t need to finish sentences.

All three of us are moms of teenage girls, as you can tell from some of the subjects we covered. Here’s a partial list of our subjects (if you think some of this stuff is gross you should see what I left out of the list):

• That date-rape drug that would-be rapists put in girl’s drinks
• The fear one of us has of getting caught with sex toys when going through Customs
• The lack of sex education in our children’s schools
• Internet safety for teens
• The learning curve for dealing with getting your period
• A teen we know who’s parents think she’s a “good girl”, but who is out of control when out of their sight
• How to talk to kids about drugs in a real way, so they won’t shut you out
• An annoying friend who drives one of us crazy
• The common need for a “good shag”
• The various psychic abilities of each of us
• Whether one of the girl’s teachers is a lecherous creep
• Flirting
• The messy divorce of a friend and her prominent businessman husband
• Bananas
• An acquaintance who caught her bed on fire when a sex toy somehow overheated
• Mexican immigration
• The looming death of a friend’s mom
• Condoms
• What one of us does on Tuesdays
• Where one of commonly gets hickies from that husband who only rarely ravishes her

Ok, so there’s your glimpse into my world, today. Tomorrow will be another story.

I’m reading a book that I really, really like. It’s called In the Casa Azul and it’s by Meaghan Delahunt. It’s an historical novel about Frida Kahlo & Leon Trotsky. As I’m reading I keep dog-earing the pages, the poor book has half its pages folded now.

Here’s a paragraph that has been sticking with me since I read it:

Happiness. That line from the American Declaration of Independence about the pursuit of happiness. He thought it both facile and dangerous. He thought that this one line could be held responsible for all the unhappiness and hypocrisy of the Western world. As if happiness were a quarry, as if you could stalk it, pin it down, corner it. But happiness wasn’t like that. It came over you, descended; sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly. It was as intangible as mist. Something numinous. And then it was gone.

Ok, so the latest on my car is that it was no big deal. I don’t think I could fully explain what happened to it if you were here in person and I could wave my hands around and draw pictures. So forget trying to type it all out. But the fact is that the sinking cenote that I hit the other day was not the problem. The problem was weirder and more complex than that. And not my fault.

My hubby was able to fix the car, easily, when he got home that evening. And while he was messing with it he got the squeaky bearings on the alternator pulley fixed. And so now the car is running great, all fixed, all better, and the squeak it had is gone too.

My engine & my husband

I’ve always loved my cars, well most of them anyway. My first car was a VW Rabbit, it was a lemon, a real money-sink. But it was a gift of freedom from my mom. When it came time for me to sell it I didn’t have the heart. So I put an ad in the paper that said “Free to good home, 1980 Rabbit, runs”. For 3 days men called me and told me I was an idiot. I told them they weren’t a “good home”. Then a mechanic called, his brother-in-law was driving him crazy borrowing his car all the time; he could fix it up and give it to the annoying brother-in-law. I liked the guy, and he “got it” he understood that I loved my car, that this was a labor of love for me. And it was a labor of love for him too, to help his brother-in-law. I gave him the car, and I never looked back.

After that I owed 4 Hondas in a row, I like small cars that sip gas. All of my Hondas were great cars, especially the 1991 Civic Sedan, something about it was great. And when it was time to sell it I just told my mechanic that I was thinking of selling it and he brought me a buyer 2 hours later who offered me $800 usd more than I thought the car was worth. But the mechanic knew I had babied that car, he knew it was a bargain.

At one point in the middle of my Honda reign I also bought a Jeep CJ-7. What a piece of shit that was. But you could park it on top of anything. I loved it in the city, it was big and black and had chrome all over it. It was sexy and ridiculous and I loved it. But it was a bigger lemon than the Rabbit, it need constant work, and I finally decided that I could learn to fix it myself or get rid of it. So I decided to sell it.

The first serious buyer was a 16 year old who had just gotten his license. Daddy was rich, daddy’s kid wanted this Jeep. But the kid couldn’t drive. I saw how he drove it and I KNEW without question that this child would die in this vehicle. It was one of those things I could just see. And I couldn’t sell it to him. My mother’s heart wouldn’t let me. I told dad to go buy a safer vehicle for his kid, one that didn’t need roll bars on account of it wasn’t likely to tip over in every corner. Dad was livid, he literally jumped up and down screaming at me. And then he offered me an extra $1000 usd for the Jeep. I told him I wouldn’t sell him a vehicle that I was sure would be the death of his son. He said that was not my business. But it was, because I knew it would happen and I could prevent it. I ended up selling it to a 30 year old hard-drive engineer who knew how to drive and who thought it would be a chick-magnet. I could live with that, and it probably was.

So now I careen around Cancun in my Renault. And it’s everything people say about French cars, it’s uppity, it’s picky, it’s fragile. And it’s fast. And it handles so well that I’ve learned to drive with more precision than before because the car can handle it. Except for being a terribly boring color this car is my favorite of all cars I’ve owned so far. And now it’s fixed so I want to invent a reason to drive it today, but truly I have nowhere to go today except possibly the grocery store which is only 3 blocks away…boring.

People have been asking for a recent photo of Sam. So here it is. Mr. Heart of Gold. Certainly the sweetest creature to walk the earth, after my last dog, Jasmin, who was also the sweetest creature to walk the earth. Sammikins, Sam the Man, Sammy Double Whammy. Poor Sam, who needs a walk right now, but I sit here blogging about him…

Sam

Sam is learning not to climb on our bed, which is always home to several napping felines. He’s learning not to sleep on the couch, which doesn’t need anymore animal odors in it. He’s learning that my daughter is the softy in the house, that she will always give a treat, will always welcome him to sack out on her bed. He’s learning the rhythms in the house, he’s learning how to sneak cat food when no one’s looking and he’s learning not to fuck with the cats. And we are learning his signals. Since he barely barks it’s hard to know when he needs to go out. But we are all getting it.

We have a friend who is an animal trainer. And we are considering asking her to help train him, and to train us too. Since we have a bilingual household the dog gets yelled at in two languages. I’m actually thinking that training him with hand signals might be best. Then the words won’t matter so much, and the hand signal will reinforce the word. I will let you know how that goes. But for now he’s a happy dog and we feel honored to have him living with us.

We have 5 bugambilas on the property. Four of them in the front yard. They are so big and colorful that I use them as a landmark when I tell people how to find my house. “It’s the one with all the bugambilias pouring over the gate”.

When we planted them each one was coming out of a 6-inch flower pot, they were innocent little things. We had no idea what we were in for. Some of the bugambilias grew faster than others but all are now 2-story monsters requiring constant trimming. And each day there is a fresh layer of fallen flowers in my yard, this is what I get instead of snow here, a pink driveway.

Los Bugambilias – One view of my garden

Two of the bugambilias have woven themselves around the top of a tree which is growing on the other side of the wall, in the neighbor’s yard. One of those bugambilias is pushing so hard on that concrete wall that the wall is cracking. My husband has had to brace the wall on both sides to help protect it. But ultimately we know that we will lose the battle with this plant, and the wall will crumble. Then we will rebuild the wall stronger, a bugambilia-resistant wall.

Three of the bugambilias send branches over the front gate, resulting in a huge spray of flowers covering the sidewalk in front of the house. Once in a while a jardinero (gardener) wanders by and catches me in the front of the house. The jardineros invariably see my willd front yard as an opportunity, they are quick to tell me that the bugambilias are touching the tv cables running down the street, they tell me that these bugambilias need taming, that they need to be hacked to within an inch of their lives with a machete. Good I say, come back tomorrow, talk to my husband, my husband is good at saying no to people, I find it tedious, boring to have to fuss with boundaries, talk to him.

Los Bugambilias – View through my gate

But I like my wild spray of flowers covering the windows, making it possible for me to have privacy in my home without shutting the curtains. I like the messy driveway that’s always full of flowers. I like the hummingbirds which spend half their time hovering up there. I like the colorful chaos. I even like losing the battle over the concrete wall. Let the plant win, plants need to win more in this world. I say let the bugambilias take the house!

The other day I read a quote somewhere that went something like this “Sometimes it feels like the world is ending but it never actually IS”. And I walked around for a couple of days thinking about that, about having that loooong perspective about life’s troubles, the one that keeps you from freaking out every time everything sucks. And I was hopeful, and I was happy, and I was sure I was over this oft-felt sense that the world is ending.

And then yesterday SUCKED! It just sucked! I’m not even going to talk about yesterday. Suffice to say that at least half the relationships and marriages around me are in some kind of deep doodoo.

And then this morning I woke up feeling unloved. And I was grumpy and ornery. And I was worried. And I was LATE! So I yank the kid out of bed and rush out of the house in a mad dash. And I’m driving along, jumping lanes and weaving, maniacal, though somewhat normal for me I must admit. But the car is running rough. It’s still kicking, it’s fast, but it’s running heavy like it has water in the gas or dirty injectors or some shit.

And then, as I’m on the Colosio (the “road to the airport”), driving in 5th gear in the shoulder, passing everyone on the right, I hit this frickin’ bump. And this bump is really a cenote that has had it’s top opening covered in tar because some not-really-a-road-engineer bribed some other incompetent to get his stupid job. And the tar is slowly sinking down into the hole. So the thing gets a little bigger each week.

Well this week it’s finally big enough. I hit it and it hit me back. It crunched the engine cover on the bottom of my car and the cover smooshed the bottom of the shifter. Only I didn’t know that the bump had done this, I just noticed that when I got to the next light and I took it out of 5th gear it was really hard to take out of gear. And after that 4th and 5th gears were really hard to get in an out of.

So I drop the kid off and then limp the car home. And then I call the hubby/mechanic, who is at work, and he says things like “that’s terrible” and “sounds like you blew the transmission” and “what the hell did you do” and comforting things like that.

And I try to concentrate on my work but I’m thinking about big transmission repair bills and I can’t think straight. Then I decide to read the newspaper, I mean how bad can it be, right? Well first I see that Britney Spears has decided the world should see her with a shiny top. How nice. And then, there below the fold, I see that a goddamn asteroid is going to hit the earth. Ok so now the world really IS ending! It’s not going to happen for a long time, and the chances are low it will happen, but none of THAT is conveyed in the headline, which was all I read then.

Yesterday was shit. Today is shit. The car is busted. The world is ending, REALLY ending. How nice.

I gave myself about half an hour, or maybe just 20 minutes, to give up on life and crawl back into bed with the 5 cats napping there. And then I got with the program and found my kid a ride home and got my work done and I read the part about the asteroid only maybe hitting the earth in 29 years. And then hubby came home and showed me my big dent, and he’s out there now straightening it out.

So I guess the world isn’t really ending. Yet. This time. Maybe.

Yeah sure.

This morning when I checked my email there was a message from a favored client. And it said, in part:

The page looks fantastic! Nothing to comment on, it’s perfect.

That kind of comment is what keeps me slaving away in front of my computer hour after hour. Someday I will show you all this “perfect” page, but for now it’s part of a big secret project…so there!

Here is something special for Valentine’s Day! It’s a love poem by Prageeta Sharma. It comes from her upcoming poetry collection titled Infamous Landscapes, which is due out this coming Fall.

SEPTEMBER MY LOVER WEARS SWEATERS

My lover is a long saber shaped tail marked with a powerful beak
He is also the fourth largest island called “The Town.”
My lover protects soldiers by calling out their enemies’ name
with an even keel even if it makes the women cry.
My lover has scratch marks on the back of his neck
and a scratchy gray sweater that dons his lovely green eyes.
He wears his only track record on his sleeve and tracks
down visions with Freudian analysis, he says “damn you,”
when he means, get out of my way. My lover is a chocolate
hangover with three kings, a messenger and the firm holding
up his velvet cape, there, they said, there you are.

~ Prageeta Sharma

Reprinted with permission, thank you Prageeta. Happy Valentine’s Day!

I’ve been working too hard again. But a web site I’ve been working on for several months is finally done and released. It’s a site to advertise two condo rentals that are owned by one of my clients.

One condo is a cute 2 bedroom in Playa del Carmen, it’s in the up-and-coming Little Italy section of town. I shot all the photos for this condo and have spent several hours there. It’s a nice place and I’m sure my client won’t have trouble renting it. It’s right around the corner from Quinta Avenida (the 5th Ave. strolling mall) and is close to Playa Mamitas, which is THE BEACH in Playa del Carmen.

The other condo is at Residencial Bay View Grand here in Cancun. And this condo is over the top. It was professionally decorated by Jerry Jacobs, whose work is exceptional. It’s got 3 bedrooms and can sleep 8 comfortably. It’s located on Playa Chac Mool which is one of the best beaches in Cancun. This property is a good deal more posh than the one in Playa del Carmen, but is just as comfortable.

Bay View Grand is a really nice property and this condo is on the 6th floor with views of both the Nichupte Lagoon and the Caribbean. I haven’t seen a sunrise from there but I’m sure it’s spectacular. I did spend an entire sunset there once and that was really special. I’m certain that renters will love this property, but I do think my client is a little crazy to rent something so nice! If it were mine I wouldn’t want to share.

Here are links to the vacation rental site and also to Jerry Jacobs’ site:

• Cancun Playa Luxury Rentals
• Jerry Jacobs Design

Since my last post about art and painting I’ve been pondering art, again, or still, in this never-ending process I’m caught up in.

Since moving to Mexico in 2003 I’ve looked for ways to describe the culture here to my people back home. But culture is a 4 dimensional beast, it swirls around us constantly, changing over time. It’s like smoke, as soon as you describe its shape it has taken a new one and your words are inaccurate.

But there are elements that remain semi-constant. Things like how normal it is for strangers to say hello to each other here; there is an instinctive friendliness here. But also how people in Mexico expect corruption to surround them and don’t expect laws to be enforced. These things seem to flow all the way through the culture and color everything.

I’ve been looking at paintings by couple of my favorite Mexican artists and I wanted to share those with you (links will follow this post). Those artists are Mario Mizrahi, who is from Cozumel, and Julio Chico who was born in Mexico City. In both cases their work shows me something about the culture in Mexico which can’t be described in another way.

Mizrahi’s work talks to me about the playfulness that you find here, even in the face of life’s ugly underbelly. And Chico’s work comforts me, assures me somehow, that there is beauty and depth of feeling underneath the short-sightedness and ugliness I see in this culture.

Here are links so you can see some of their works. I couldn’t find a web site for Julio Chico, instead I found a gallery page about him.

• Mario Mizrahi
• Julio Chico

Also I thought I would share one of my own paintings with you. I painted it right before moving to Mexico. I never titled it but I remember that I had been looking at some of René Magritte’s paintings, and I remember that I was scared and kind of depressed. I also remember that I painted it entirely with a palette knife, no brush at all. So enjoy it, or don’t, or whatever.

Untitled – Painted in 2003