Well, I had something to say last night, it might have even been something earthshaking, but I was a little too woozy after huffing spray paint and forgot what it was.
We're in the middle of a home improvement project. Our last rehab project, the Harrison Street house, began with a sagging popcorn ceiling. Patching would leave a visible seam, so better to redo the whole surface. Which led to: let's tear the entire ceiling out up to the roof line and put in a beautiful tongue-and-groove cathedral wood ceiling. An experimental, custom mixed two-parts-pine-one-part-mahogany stain, a recessed lighting and stereo soffit, specially ordered cast iron fan, and we had one spectacular space. It took six months before we could actually move in, but everyone certainly admired our Architectural Digest living room.
Yesterday, starting out in typical fashion, G decided to thoroughly clean the bathroom. In our family, G is the cleaner, I am the organizer. I find creative ways to cram five people into 500 square feet of space, and when it's all picked up and streamlined, G moves in for the dirty work. Particularly the bathroom, and especially, the toilet. I've always resisted cleaning the toilet on the grounds that, quite frankly, girls don't make a mess when they use it. He brought out his pressurized pump, began spraying the shower walls down with some noxious rust remover and dumped some in the bowl for good measure.
His cleaning project morphed into home improvement when he thought a fresh coat of paint might be a good way to brighten the cramped quarters. We discussed color schemes. Then new hardware. Next came the idea to repaint the sink cabinet, in a very striking black gloss no less, to coordinate with the black frame of our Japanese-style woven grass paneled screen, screwed to the wall to camouflage the prison cell look of our bare concrete block walls. That's where the spray paint and the poorly ventilated space came in. And maybe, we thought, we should paint the interior of the shower stall in an accent color. Terra cotta? That would pick up the colors in the broken-tile mosaic floor and hide any future rust stains. Needed a new shower curtain and toilet seat too while we're at it. The problem, we soon realized, was the ceiling. Even with a fresh coat of paint, it would still look like the junky, 50 year old plywood lid that it is. G came up with the idea to attach strips of wood across the length of the room to give it a board and batten finish. Out came the saws and sawhorses, the air compressor to power the nail gun, caulk and spackle to fill gaps and cracks. Two coats of primer, two coats of paint. He's a professional, he can't help it.
24 hours later, and after a sweaty, sandy, salty day at the beach, all I want to do is take a shower. It will have to wait until tomorrow.
Monday, June 28, 2004
Saturday, June 26, 2004
Is anyone else as confounded about this election as I am?
First, reality check. I am not a full-time political analyst and don’t have enough hours in the day to slog through every nuance of a candidate’s platform. There is simply too much out there and too much of it is smokescreen. So, I do what most reasonable people do: Try to understand the basic issues and the issues that most concern me, figure each candidate’s supposed position on them, consider opinions of people I respect whose views are along the lines of my own, and take a look at what the people are saying who are my diametric opposite. Then I scratch my head.
I figure, we’re only picking a general manager, it should be simple: The war-monger, or the other guy. Much of the strength of an administration lies in the decision making and power of the various department heads. Bush has chosen a scary group of extremists for his. Kerry’s cohorts, assuming he is the guy officially tapped, who knows? It’s probably clear to most of you that I lean Libertarian, although I am officially on the books as No Party Affiliation. Yup, I’m one of those key Florida swing votes, and in my own defense, I punched a mean chad back in 2000. With the left fractured, Democrat, Independent, Green Party, Libertarian, there’s no point in casting a vote for my true choice candidate. The numbers game reduces me to casting a vote against a particular candidate; voting for the lesser of two evils. That is not my idea of a successful process. When and how did we get stuck with the two-party system? How do we put an end to it? Or, how do we fracture the Republican Party to even the playing field?
In the July issue of Vanity Fair, Christopher Hitchens has written a heartwarming column about the cracks beginning to appear among the Republicans, between neocons and traditional conservatives. This could prove to be an important development. Keep your fingers crossed.
Why don’t we adopt the idea of compulsory attendance at the polls, like Australia, fining people who don’t vote? Wouldn’t this encourage participation by those lower socio-economic groups who don’t generally turn out at the polling places, but traditionally favor the Democrats? Oh, I think I may have just answered my own question.
Jeb Bush is still refusing to revamp the electronic voting system put in place after the last debacle. The new system is not without its faults. No paper trail is available to vouch for accuracy in at least 11 Florida counties, leaving them unable to manually recount results in another expectedly close contest. Great. Gives all those conspiracy theorists something to obsess about.
Remember the Flori-duh headlines? Just wait.
Why are there fewer political blogs written by women? Maybe men who blog have more free time to analyze the intricacies of the political scene, while women who blog, who are no less concerned about politics, are just more closely involved with the day-to-day dealings of their families. You write what you know.
As a busy homeschooling, blogging mom, I must try to devote more time toward a deeper understanding of, and participation in politics. In the meantime, I’ll continue to devote my time to raising a batch of good little revolutionaries.
I’m Lynne D., and I approve this message.
First, reality check. I am not a full-time political analyst and don’t have enough hours in the day to slog through every nuance of a candidate’s platform. There is simply too much out there and too much of it is smokescreen. So, I do what most reasonable people do: Try to understand the basic issues and the issues that most concern me, figure each candidate’s supposed position on them, consider opinions of people I respect whose views are along the lines of my own, and take a look at what the people are saying who are my diametric opposite. Then I scratch my head.
I figure, we’re only picking a general manager, it should be simple: The war-monger, or the other guy. Much of the strength of an administration lies in the decision making and power of the various department heads. Bush has chosen a scary group of extremists for his. Kerry’s cohorts, assuming he is the guy officially tapped, who knows? It’s probably clear to most of you that I lean Libertarian, although I am officially on the books as No Party Affiliation. Yup, I’m one of those key Florida swing votes, and in my own defense, I punched a mean chad back in 2000. With the left fractured, Democrat, Independent, Green Party, Libertarian, there’s no point in casting a vote for my true choice candidate. The numbers game reduces me to casting a vote against a particular candidate; voting for the lesser of two evils. That is not my idea of a successful process. When and how did we get stuck with the two-party system? How do we put an end to it? Or, how do we fracture the Republican Party to even the playing field?
In the July issue of Vanity Fair, Christopher Hitchens has written a heartwarming column about the cracks beginning to appear among the Republicans, between neocons and traditional conservatives. This could prove to be an important development. Keep your fingers crossed.
Why don’t we adopt the idea of compulsory attendance at the polls, like Australia, fining people who don’t vote? Wouldn’t this encourage participation by those lower socio-economic groups who don’t generally turn out at the polling places, but traditionally favor the Democrats? Oh, I think I may have just answered my own question.
Jeb Bush is still refusing to revamp the electronic voting system put in place after the last debacle. The new system is not without its faults. No paper trail is available to vouch for accuracy in at least 11 Florida counties, leaving them unable to manually recount results in another expectedly close contest. Great. Gives all those conspiracy theorists something to obsess about.
Remember the Flori-duh headlines? Just wait.
Why are there fewer political blogs written by women? Maybe men who blog have more free time to analyze the intricacies of the political scene, while women who blog, who are no less concerned about politics, are just more closely involved with the day-to-day dealings of their families. You write what you know.
As a busy homeschooling, blogging mom, I must try to devote more time toward a deeper understanding of, and participation in politics. In the meantime, I’ll continue to devote my time to raising a batch of good little revolutionaries.
I’m Lynne D., and I approve this message.
Friday, June 25, 2004
Now Playing
Movies That I'd Like to See
Fahrenheit 9/11 -- Hype, skewed views, statements taken out of context? That's OK, it's the always entertaining and informative Mr. Moore
Mean Girls -- I'm currently reading Queen Bees and Wannabes. Lots to blog about there. Plus, Tina Fey is very funny
The Stepford Wives -- Just because
Movies I've Spent Two Days Searching For in Local Video Stores
Life of Brian
A Fish Called Wanda
The Only Movie I'll Probably Actually Get to See, With the Kids
Two Brothers
Fahrenheit 9/11 -- Hype, skewed views, statements taken out of context? That's OK, it's the always entertaining and informative Mr. Moore
Mean Girls -- I'm currently reading Queen Bees and Wannabes. Lots to blog about there. Plus, Tina Fey is very funny
The Stepford Wives -- Just because
Movies I've Spent Two Days Searching For in Local Video Stores
Life of Brian
A Fish Called Wanda
The Only Movie I'll Probably Actually Get to See, With the Kids
Two Brothers
Thursday, June 24, 2004
Apartment hunting was fun, and seeing all those new 'luxury' units did make me want to go out and buy a condo in one of the newer buildings. If you can have complimentary 24 hour coffee bars, internet service, and fabulous gyms as a renter, imagine what kind of amenities you would earn as an owner.
But, it is not to be. Rather than blow a whole lot of money, we've chosen, or more correctly, I've chosen, and G has humbly agreed, to an alternative plan: When G needs to be in town, he can stay with his mother. She already lives in a penthouse condo with a swanky Fort Lauderdale address. G thinks grown men who live with their mothers are big, fat losers. I see it as a temporary, complementary arrangement. He needs a cheap place to stay, and she needs help with miscellaneous home improvement projects. There's room for us when we come over too. She already jokes that I have nothing to fear during our frequent time apart. What's more harmless than a man who has dinner with his mom every night?
Back to the island. We'll have to survive with sporadic bursts of culture for a little while longer.
The girls and I are running into town today before the big afternoon thunderstorm. S wants her hair trimmed and we received a notice that we have a package at the post office. I suspect it's the exchanged Powerglide Ultimate. After taking a look at the Junior version, I decided los tres cochinitos (the three little pigs) probably wouldn't come up in conversation that frequently.
Speaking of cochinitos, G and I had another fine dinner down on Calle Ocho at the Versailles the other night while the girls had a sleep over at my parents'. Trying to stick to my modified Atkins/South Beach diet, I had the fried pork chunks, and then totally blew it with black beans, rice, plantains, and tres leches for dessert. Yo es cochinito.
But, it is not to be. Rather than blow a whole lot of money, we've chosen, or more correctly, I've chosen, and G has humbly agreed, to an alternative plan: When G needs to be in town, he can stay with his mother. She already lives in a penthouse condo with a swanky Fort Lauderdale address. G thinks grown men who live with their mothers are big, fat losers. I see it as a temporary, complementary arrangement. He needs a cheap place to stay, and she needs help with miscellaneous home improvement projects. There's room for us when we come over too. She already jokes that I have nothing to fear during our frequent time apart. What's more harmless than a man who has dinner with his mom every night?
Back to the island. We'll have to survive with sporadic bursts of culture for a little while longer.
The girls and I are running into town today before the big afternoon thunderstorm. S wants her hair trimmed and we received a notice that we have a package at the post office. I suspect it's the exchanged Powerglide Ultimate. After taking a look at the Junior version, I decided los tres cochinitos (the three little pigs) probably wouldn't come up in conversation that frequently.
Speaking of cochinitos, G and I had another fine dinner down on Calle Ocho at the Versailles the other night while the girls had a sleep over at my parents'. Trying to stick to my modified Atkins/South Beach diet, I had the fried pork chunks, and then totally blew it with black beans, rice, plantains, and tres leches for dessert. Yo es cochinito.
Monday, June 21, 2004
Apartment hunting
Tomorrow, while we are over in Fort Lauderdale, G and I are going to go look at three of the new high rise apartment buildings that have been added in the downtown renaissance. G has been staying at a string of hotels on his trips over to the east coast, and we figured the amount of money we're spending is equivalent to a real place. But we are not, repeat, NOT going to buy anything. Not until we know where we're going to end up.
All three are within walking distance to the Museum of Discovery and Science, the Museum of Art (which I see has changed its address from the unfortunate "museumofart.org"), my favorite main library branch, Broward Center for the Performing Arts and the New River with its free Sunday jazz concerts.
We're planning on one year, until we know what's going on with the Fort Pierce project. We'll re-evaluate it then. Meantime, we still have the island for a getaway.
Fort Lauderdale is certainly not NYC or Chicago, but it's got enough to keep us busy for awhile. All you city folks, you realize of course, this is your fault.
All three are within walking distance to the Museum of Discovery and Science, the Museum of Art (which I see has changed its address from the unfortunate "museumofart.org"), my favorite main library branch, Broward Center for the Performing Arts and the New River with its free Sunday jazz concerts.
We're planning on one year, until we know what's going on with the Fort Pierce project. We'll re-evaluate it then. Meantime, we still have the island for a getaway.
Fort Lauderdale is certainly not NYC or Chicago, but it's got enough to keep us busy for awhile. All you city folks, you realize of course, this is your fault.
Saturday, June 19, 2004
Plans changed yesterday, I know you're not surprised, I wasn't, and G ended up coming over after all, with his mother. This is actually a good thing, because I like my mother-in-law. She scares the hell out of most people, but for some reason, we get along very well.
We had a nice, relaxing, everybody-getting-along-and-having-fun kind of day. We sat out talking on the porch late last night, I fell asleep in the hammock, and this morning were back out on the porch enjoying the sunrise over a cup of coffee. Literally. It wasn't that early, the sun was about as high over the horizon as our coffee cups were tall, when viewed at arms length.
Later, everyone piled in the boat, we rode down to Cabbage Key for lunch, and pulled up on the beach at Cayo Costa for a swim afterward.
So G got his birthday wish for a laid back day.
The girls gave him handmade cards, one daughter gave him a homemade stress ball, paper mache over tinfoil, to be used at work, and L took some blobs of melted wax, stuck them to the bowl of a spoon and called it a spoon puppet. I'll bet no one else has one of those.
He did mention that it might be fun to go down and camp out at Books & Books for an autographed copy of Clinton's My Life, when it goes on sale July, 22, so that will be his big present.
We had a nice, relaxing, everybody-getting-along-and-having-fun kind of day. We sat out talking on the porch late last night, I fell asleep in the hammock, and this morning were back out on the porch enjoying the sunrise over a cup of coffee. Literally. It wasn't that early, the sun was about as high over the horizon as our coffee cups were tall, when viewed at arms length.
Later, everyone piled in the boat, we rode down to Cabbage Key for lunch, and pulled up on the beach at Cayo Costa for a swim afterward.
So G got his birthday wish for a laid back day.
The girls gave him handmade cards, one daughter gave him a homemade stress ball, paper mache over tinfoil, to be used at work, and L took some blobs of melted wax, stuck them to the bowl of a spoon and called it a spoon puppet. I'll bet no one else has one of those.
He did mention that it might be fun to go down and camp out at Books & Books for an autographed copy of Clinton's My Life, when it goes on sale July, 22, so that will be his big present.
Friday, June 18, 2004
Catastrophe was avoided yesterday, awful pun intended, and we returned home safe, sound, and flealess. The vet didn't need to sedate him (or "seduce" him as my middle daughter kept saying) for his bath, as Orlando was the most docile creature ever. I can only attribute it to the bait well incident.
Ah, the bait well. This gives me an idea for a new chapter in my book-in-progress:
Discipline: Raise The Perfect Child With Brainwashing Techniques
That's just the working title.
Today is Sweet G's birthday. He had hoped to avoid the big family celebration that his mother had planned, in favor of a quiet weekend out here on the island, but alas, it is not to be. He is too busy and stressed with work, so over to the east coast we go.
Our family events are strangely tied to holidays, some by choice, and some purely random. Just a sample: Sweet G was born on Father's Day and shares a birthday with my cousin C and my Irish Nana; Irish Nana died on St. Patrick's Day; G's dear dad, who never missed a day of work in his life and never retired, took his final vacation on Labor Day; I was divorced on Valentine's Day; Halloween is my current wedding anniversary and a niece's birthday. Makes it easy to remember. Or hard to forget.
Ah, the bait well. This gives me an idea for a new chapter in my book-in-progress:
Discipline: Raise The Perfect Child With Brainwashing Techniques
That's just the working title.
Today is Sweet G's birthday. He had hoped to avoid the big family celebration that his mother had planned, in favor of a quiet weekend out here on the island, but alas, it is not to be. He is too busy and stressed with work, so over to the east coast we go.
Our family events are strangely tied to holidays, some by choice, and some purely random. Just a sample: Sweet G was born on Father's Day and shares a birthday with my cousin C and my Irish Nana; Irish Nana died on St. Patrick's Day; G's dear dad, who never missed a day of work in his life and never retired, took his final vacation on Labor Day; I was divorced on Valentine's Day; Halloween is my current wedding anniversary and a niece's birthday. Makes it easy to remember. Or hard to forget.
Thursday, June 17, 2004
Today's challenge: get the cat to the vet for a flea treatment, without the benefit of a pet carrier or leash of any sort.
The last time Orlando took a boat ride with us was when we brought him out here. After the three hour ride in G's truck, he was crazed. G had a cardboard box to transfer him from truck to boat and contain him for the boat ride, but he quickly tore that to shreds and the girls had a hard time keeping him inside. His head would pop out, and when that was pushed in, a leg would pop out. Push that back in, and his head would stick out again. The box was mangled, the kids were getting scratched up, and afraid he would panic during the trip and jump overboard, I had the brilliant idea to put him inside one of the hatches for the 20 minute ride home. We dropped him in, and the girls sat on top of the hatch door to prevent him from escaping.
Worked great, except I didn't realize that the bait well still had water circulate through it even when it was technically turned off. So poor Orlando, besides being scared out of his mind by the unfamiliar noise and motion, was further traumatized by a salt water shower inside his dark little prison.
I'm sure he has not forgotten.
Now that I think of it though, I'll bet it was an effective, low-cost alternative flea bath.
The last time Orlando took a boat ride with us was when we brought him out here. After the three hour ride in G's truck, he was crazed. G had a cardboard box to transfer him from truck to boat and contain him for the boat ride, but he quickly tore that to shreds and the girls had a hard time keeping him inside. His head would pop out, and when that was pushed in, a leg would pop out. Push that back in, and his head would stick out again. The box was mangled, the kids were getting scratched up, and afraid he would panic during the trip and jump overboard, I had the brilliant idea to put him inside one of the hatches for the 20 minute ride home. We dropped him in, and the girls sat on top of the hatch door to prevent him from escaping.
Worked great, except I didn't realize that the bait well still had water circulate through it even when it was technically turned off. So poor Orlando, besides being scared out of his mind by the unfamiliar noise and motion, was further traumatized by a salt water shower inside his dark little prison.
I'm sure he has not forgotten.
Now that I think of it though, I'll bet it was an effective, low-cost alternative flea bath.
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
Oh well
So, Belize is off. For now. Our friends kindly offered to subdivide a piece of their farm for us, but they don't live on the creek and that was the main attraction of the other property. At least we know we are always welcome in case we feel the need to escape America.
As a consolation, G returned bearing gifts. The girls received wood carvings and a doll, and I received a gigantic, family-sized hammock. Not that I'm quite family-sized, yet, but G knew that everyone would have to jump on and give it a try anytime Mom has a few minutes to lay down and take a swing. The kids are all eager for Dad to get it hung up right away. I imagine many happy afternoons relaxing with a book or two.
The interesting part of his trip was catching up on all the dirt about the ex-pat neighbors: she kicked her husband out and took up with a Texas millionaire; he secretly wears women's panties; they made their initial money smuggling marijuana in their early years in country; their girls all ran off with local boys. We were always amazed at how gossip traveled down there. Something would happen to you in town, and by the time you arrived home, the people there were already talking about it. And they don't have telephones.
Now we have to call our prospective buyer and tell her there's no deal. She did give us some good ideas for renovation and expansion possibilities when she last came out to look, and maybe we'll end up implementing some of them.
When we saw the newborn baby porpoises jumping and playing with each other in the pass, and a full, end-to-end, brilliant rainbow across the bay yesterday, well, we thought this place will work for us after all.
As a consolation, G returned bearing gifts. The girls received wood carvings and a doll, and I received a gigantic, family-sized hammock. Not that I'm quite family-sized, yet, but G knew that everyone would have to jump on and give it a try anytime Mom has a few minutes to lay down and take a swing. The kids are all eager for Dad to get it hung up right away. I imagine many happy afternoons relaxing with a book or two.
The interesting part of his trip was catching up on all the dirt about the ex-pat neighbors: she kicked her husband out and took up with a Texas millionaire; he secretly wears women's panties; they made their initial money smuggling marijuana in their early years in country; their girls all ran off with local boys. We were always amazed at how gossip traveled down there. Something would happen to you in town, and by the time you arrived home, the people there were already talking about it. And they don't have telephones.
Now we have to call our prospective buyer and tell her there's no deal. She did give us some good ideas for renovation and expansion possibilities when she last came out to look, and maybe we'll end up implementing some of them.
When we saw the newborn baby porpoises jumping and playing with each other in the pass, and a full, end-to-end, brilliant rainbow across the bay yesterday, well, we thought this place will work for us after all.
Sunday, June 13, 2004
One down, one to go
Spent all night getting the hard drive reformatted, only to have the virus crop up yet again. I don't understand the mentality behind the people that create these things. To me, it just wouldn't be fun unless you could see the havoc you've wreaked with your own eyes. This person does not get any recognition, remaining faceless to his victims, nor does he ever really know the extent of his handiwork. Where's the satisfaction of a job well done?
Anyway, my persistence paid off, and I've now got this laptop up and running, so the other can finally go into the shop.
G just called. From Miami. He came back early. Mervin, the owner, has a deposit on the property, from a woman in Naples, Florida, and it should be closing in three or four months. The realtor never mentioned that though. G said it was the typical wacky Belizean deal because when he spoke to Mervin, he learned the realtor doesn't even technically have a listing on the place, yet G still saw it listed in several newspapers. He said it was a very interesting trip and he has some other options to discuss.
Today was too hot to go outside. The girls kept themselves busy researching their newest Shakespearean production, reading the different versions of it available around our house, comparing them, deciding which one to adapt.
Big electrical storm coming which should bring some much needed relief from the heat. Before I get electrocuted, or God help me, fry my computer, I'm off to fine tune school schedules.
Anyway, my persistence paid off, and I've now got this laptop up and running, so the other can finally go into the shop.
G just called. From Miami. He came back early. Mervin, the owner, has a deposit on the property, from a woman in Naples, Florida, and it should be closing in three or four months. The realtor never mentioned that though. G said it was the typical wacky Belizean deal because when he spoke to Mervin, he learned the realtor doesn't even technically have a listing on the place, yet G still saw it listed in several newspapers. He said it was a very interesting trip and he has some other options to discuss.
Today was too hot to go outside. The girls kept themselves busy researching their newest Shakespearean production, reading the different versions of it available around our house, comparing them, deciding which one to adapt.
Big electrical storm coming which should bring some much needed relief from the heat. Before I get electrocuted, or God help me, fry my computer, I'm off to fine tune school schedules.
Saturday, June 12, 2004
Belize Update
I rode over to Fort Lauderdale on Thursday to have dinner with G and collect my oldest daughter, S. Friday afternoon, the girls and I drove him down to Miami International, and I finished up some business loose ends for him, staying at his place for the night. He called last night to say he arrived safely. Today I'm imagining him meeting with the owner and realtor and maybe dropping in to our friends' house for a surprise visit or catching them this morning in town at the market. We probably won't hear from him again until he flies back on Tuesday. I wonder how it's going.
Before he left, we did a rough cost analysis of our plans for the property. If we opt for the full-blown guest house idea, we have a very small margin for error and a very big burden to be successful. Neither of us have any hospitality training, other than knowing what a comfortable, well-run place feels like. If we go down there with plans to set ourselves up comfortably and provide incidental tourist services and maybe a cottage or two for guests, we fare much better. Hopefully he keeps that in mind. It's a lifestyle change, not an investment. He also came up with a good idea to use some of plan B's cushion to maybe develop a rental property or two in town. Do what you know, right?
Here are a couple links, FYI:
Caesar's Place, our favorite in-town accommodations. Caesar is an ex-pat South African who took his family down to Belize in the early 70s. Good food, good company, clean, comfortable rooms and the best gift shop around.
Click here for the property's listing info. It's #2209, at the bottom of the page.
Flora and fauna checklists
Barton Creek Cave Also see My Trip to Xibalba And Back for more on Barton Creek Cave.
Some of the neighbors:
Green Hills Butterfly Ranch
Janus Foundation
Mountain Equestrian Trails
Caracol
More interesting local ruins:
Pacbitun
Xunantunich
In San Ignacio, sooner or later everyone stops in at Eva's. Bob, a British ex-pat who came down years ago on maneuvers and never left, knows everyone and everything about sightseeing in Cayo. The food's not bad either. Make it sooner.
---------
The rescue disks are here and I plan to spend the rest of the evening getting at least one laptop back in shape. The girls are watching Much Ado About Nothing for the umpteenth time and plan to produce their own version shortly.
Before he left, we did a rough cost analysis of our plans for the property. If we opt for the full-blown guest house idea, we have a very small margin for error and a very big burden to be successful. Neither of us have any hospitality training, other than knowing what a comfortable, well-run place feels like. If we go down there with plans to set ourselves up comfortably and provide incidental tourist services and maybe a cottage or two for guests, we fare much better. Hopefully he keeps that in mind. It's a lifestyle change, not an investment. He also came up with a good idea to use some of plan B's cushion to maybe develop a rental property or two in town. Do what you know, right?
Here are a couple links, FYI:
Caesar's Place, our favorite in-town accommodations. Caesar is an ex-pat South African who took his family down to Belize in the early 70s. Good food, good company, clean, comfortable rooms and the best gift shop around.
Click here for the property's listing info. It's #2209, at the bottom of the page.
Flora and fauna checklists
Barton Creek Cave Also see My Trip to Xibalba And Back for more on Barton Creek Cave.
Some of the neighbors:
Green Hills Butterfly Ranch
Janus Foundation
Mountain Equestrian Trails
Caracol
More interesting local ruins:
Pacbitun
Xunantunich
In San Ignacio, sooner or later everyone stops in at Eva's. Bob, a British ex-pat who came down years ago on maneuvers and never left, knows everyone and everything about sightseeing in Cayo. The food's not bad either. Make it sooner.
---------
The rescue disks are here and I plan to spend the rest of the evening getting at least one laptop back in shape. The girls are watching Much Ado About Nothing for the umpteenth time and plan to produce their own version shortly.
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Miss Ann Thrope II
Dear Miss Ann Thrope:
My husband is really, really mad at me. All our bills are in collections and the bank is threatening to foreclose on our home. He says I spend way too much money and don’t know how to balance a checkbook. Yesterday when I was shopping at the mall (I only go when there’s a sale) I saw an advertisement for a seminar called, “Managing Your Finances.” It is $1,000.00. Do you think this will help?
Desperate
Dear Desperate:
No. But for only $100.00, I will share with you my 100% Guaranteed method for financial success:
STOP GIVING OTHER PEOPLE YOUR MONEY.
I just saved you $900.00. Feel better? Please send payment, cash only, thank you, to Miss Ann Thrope c/o SCHOLA
My husband is really, really mad at me. All our bills are in collections and the bank is threatening to foreclose on our home. He says I spend way too much money and don’t know how to balance a checkbook. Yesterday when I was shopping at the mall (I only go when there’s a sale) I saw an advertisement for a seminar called, “Managing Your Finances.” It is $1,000.00. Do you think this will help?
Desperate
Dear Desperate:
No. But for only $100.00, I will share with you my 100% Guaranteed method for financial success:
STOP GIVING OTHER PEOPLE YOUR MONEY.
I just saved you $900.00. Feel better? Please send payment, cash only, thank you, to Miss Ann Thrope c/o SCHOLA
I caved
Yes, this self-professed secular home educator has gone and done it. I've ordered Rod & Staff English. My reasoning, or justification, or excuse, whichever way you look at it, is that it's very thorough, it's an all-in-one package, and it finally has SWB's imprimatur. I'd been on the fence until now.
We use a combination of Easy Grammar and Daily Grams, Write With the Best, and The First Book of Diagramming. Plans were to move on into Harvey's when we wrapped up Easy Grammar. I like all these books and the girls are doing just fine with them. So what's the problem? When I sat down last night to hash out our new weekly schedule, it seemed too much. Trying to coordinate and balance all these various English texts made the schedule look overwhelming. If I thought so, I can only imagine what the kids would think.
So, in order to accommodate an increased attention to the arts and science, we're simplifying our English studies.
From what I have seen of samples, it doesn't have that in-your-face ABeka religious slant. It looks like a very sweet, old-fashioned book. The biblical references we can treat as literature, and I have no problem with promoting virtues (well, as far as raising my children anyway.)
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
We use a combination of Easy Grammar and Daily Grams, Write With the Best, and The First Book of Diagramming. Plans were to move on into Harvey's when we wrapped up Easy Grammar. I like all these books and the girls are doing just fine with them. So what's the problem? When I sat down last night to hash out our new weekly schedule, it seemed too much. Trying to coordinate and balance all these various English texts made the schedule look overwhelming. If I thought so, I can only imagine what the kids would think.
So, in order to accommodate an increased attention to the arts and science, we're simplifying our English studies.
From what I have seen of samples, it doesn't have that in-your-face ABeka religious slant. It looks like a very sweet, old-fashioned book. The biblical references we can treat as literature, and I have no problem with promoting virtues (well, as far as raising my children anyway.)
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Monday, June 07, 2004
Hobbled
One laptop DOA, the other allowing me five minutes before restarting itself. We'll head into town today and see if the necessary disks from IBM have arrived to restore the one, and then off to the shop with the other. If I don't reply to comments or emails for awhile, that's why.
Yesterday we had a visit from our prospective buyer. She seems interested and is going to call us the day after G returns from his fact-finding mission in Belize to see what we plan to do. I will be holding my breath until then.
I like Brad Pitt. For his mind. Really. In the June Vanity Fair, he discusses his passion for art and architecture, his trouble with organized religion, and when he wonders about possibly misusing a word during the interview, grabs a dictionary and looks it up. His avoidance of obvious leading man roles (until Troy), and a preference for offbeat parts, he explains by repeating what Frank Gehry told him, "If you know where it's going, it's not worth doing."
Okay, so he's not too hard on the eyes either.
Stretch yourself. Avoid predictability. Don't always take the safest, easiest path. I quoted Brad's line to G, who laughed, not at me, with me, well, maybe at me a little, as I transparently tried to justify the bizarre desire we have to throw away the comfortably familiar, and financial security, for a decidedly challenging new venture.
Que sera, sera.
Yesterday we had a visit from our prospective buyer. She seems interested and is going to call us the day after G returns from his fact-finding mission in Belize to see what we plan to do. I will be holding my breath until then.
I like Brad Pitt. For his mind. Really. In the June Vanity Fair, he discusses his passion for art and architecture, his trouble with organized religion, and when he wonders about possibly misusing a word during the interview, grabs a dictionary and looks it up. His avoidance of obvious leading man roles (until Troy), and a preference for offbeat parts, he explains by repeating what Frank Gehry told him, "If you know where it's going, it's not worth doing."
Okay, so he's not too hard on the eyes either.
Stretch yourself. Avoid predictability. Don't always take the safest, easiest path. I quoted Brad's line to G, who laughed, not at me, with me, well, maybe at me a little, as I transparently tried to justify the bizarre desire we have to throw away the comfortably familiar, and financial security, for a decidedly challenging new venture.
Que sera, sera.
Friday, June 04, 2004
This is for all you lousy, virus-bearing hackers out there...
Dirty Old Egg-Suckin' Dog(Johnny Cash)
Well he's not very handsome to look at
Oh he's shaggy and he eats like a hog
And he's always killin' my chickens
That dirty old egg-suckin' dog
Egg-suckin' dog
I'm gonna stomp your head in the ground
If you don't stay out of my hen house
You dirty old egg-suckin' hound
Now if he don't stop eatin' my eggs up
Though I'm not a real bad guy
I'm gonna get my riffle and send him
To that great chicken house in the sky
Egg-suckin' dog
Your always hangin' around
But you'd better stay out of my hen house
You dirty old egg-suckin' hound
---------
Spent the better part of the day online with various tech support people, reformatting hard drives and fine tuning programs, only to have the virus keep reappearing.
Well he's not very handsome to look at
Oh he's shaggy and he eats like a hog
And he's always killin' my chickens
That dirty old egg-suckin' dog
Egg-suckin' dog
I'm gonna stomp your head in the ground
If you don't stay out of my hen house
You dirty old egg-suckin' hound
Now if he don't stop eatin' my eggs up
Though I'm not a real bad guy
I'm gonna get my riffle and send him
To that great chicken house in the sky
Egg-suckin' dog
Your always hangin' around
But you'd better stay out of my hen house
You dirty old egg-suckin' hound
---------
Spent the better part of the day online with various tech support people, reformatting hard drives and fine tuning programs, only to have the virus keep reappearing.
Thursday, June 03, 2004
Maybe I'm the last one to figure this out...
but the measure of success is freedom. Freedom, for me, equals happiness.
This after a conversation with my mother who says I am doing a good job of educating the girls, BUT, I am limiting their possibilities.
When she mentioned running into my former sister-in-law's co-conspiratorial best friend who works at the same grocery chain as my ex-SIL did, I casually mentioned how sad it is to aspire to a career of nothing higher than checkout girl at Publix. Always the worker bee. And with everything computerized, never even having to use your brain. I must confess though, that for a brief period in the midst of a busy theater season, where we were promoting six shows each in six cities during a span of about four months, I sometimes fantasized about it -- either that, or handing cheeseburgers out a window -- but, I digress. My mother countered that management positions at the local grocery chain offer high wages, good benefit packages and retirement benefits. Yes, I know, but what a dreary life living from paycheck to paycheck, waiting for your measly two week annual vacation, always unsatisfied and wanting more. She continued to argue that it is not a bad life, and while I agree in one sense that it is not a bad life, no one dreams of being the checkout girl when they grow up.
Well then, she insisted, your girls had better go to college. Not necessarily. I tried to explain that more money does not equal happiness; following your heart does. I tried to explain the concept of the pyramid: from the janitor on up to a corporate executive, you are still either the base or, at best, the upper middle of the pyramid; there are very few people at the top and you can typically only rise so high. And for what? More money and maybe six weeks off every year? No, thanks.
When you are self-employed, the sky's the limit. This is what we want for our girls. If they are so inclined, they can take over the construction business, or broker real estate deals, or run a resort in the jungle, or be a chef (or a chef in a resort in the jungle) or a doctor, or a farmer, or anything they want. The important thing is to be their own boss, be the top of the pyramid, even if it's only a really small one. If learning specific professional skills in college helps, fine. If studying philosophy or art or great books in college is what they desire, fine. If they find themselves in a position where college is unnecessary, that's fine too.
When they can support themselves in a way that pleases them, I consider that success.
This is difficult for a retired teacher married to a retired mailman to understand, but it seems to me I'm broadening their possibilities, not limiting them.
Here's to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness...
This after a conversation with my mother who says I am doing a good job of educating the girls, BUT, I am limiting their possibilities.
When she mentioned running into my former sister-in-law's co-conspiratorial best friend who works at the same grocery chain as my ex-SIL did, I casually mentioned how sad it is to aspire to a career of nothing higher than checkout girl at Publix. Always the worker bee. And with everything computerized, never even having to use your brain. I must confess though, that for a brief period in the midst of a busy theater season, where we were promoting six shows each in six cities during a span of about four months, I sometimes fantasized about it -- either that, or handing cheeseburgers out a window -- but, I digress. My mother countered that management positions at the local grocery chain offer high wages, good benefit packages and retirement benefits. Yes, I know, but what a dreary life living from paycheck to paycheck, waiting for your measly two week annual vacation, always unsatisfied and wanting more. She continued to argue that it is not a bad life, and while I agree in one sense that it is not a bad life, no one dreams of being the checkout girl when they grow up.
Well then, she insisted, your girls had better go to college. Not necessarily. I tried to explain that more money does not equal happiness; following your heart does. I tried to explain the concept of the pyramid: from the janitor on up to a corporate executive, you are still either the base or, at best, the upper middle of the pyramid; there are very few people at the top and you can typically only rise so high. And for what? More money and maybe six weeks off every year? No, thanks.
When you are self-employed, the sky's the limit. This is what we want for our girls. If they are so inclined, they can take over the construction business, or broker real estate deals, or run a resort in the jungle, or be a chef (or a chef in a resort in the jungle) or a doctor, or a farmer, or anything they want. The important thing is to be their own boss, be the top of the pyramid, even if it's only a really small one. If learning specific professional skills in college helps, fine. If studying philosophy or art or great books in college is what they desire, fine. If they find themselves in a position where college is unnecessary, that's fine too.
When they can support themselves in a way that pleases them, I consider that success.
This is difficult for a retired teacher married to a retired mailman to understand, but it seems to me I'm broadening their possibilities, not limiting them.
Here's to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness...
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
Alex
I ended up calling her mom after all. She's not incarcerated or living on the top of a giant redwood tree, or anything like that. She's still in Georgia, still with the same guy, and just celebrated (?) her 34th birthday, lamenting the fact that she is not aging well.
Can't be that bad.
Happy Birthday!
Can't be that bad.
Happy Birthday!
I've collected all my children and returned to the island. Tomorrow we get back to the books. Until I refigure our history plan, S and G will be keeping busy with grammar and math. Plans to continue using A History of US as our spine were sidetracked when S and G expressed an interest in a more global study. Yeah, I guess we were getting a little Americentric -- need to work on that. Between George Washington's World, Abraham Lincoln's World, Story of the World III, The Story of Mankind and A Child's History of the World, I'll have to whip something up.
G created On the Road Latin for her little sister, L. She taped prayers from Latina Christiana, first conjugation and first declension chants and made up a conversational Latin storyline inspired by Powerglide Junior Spanish. There's a coordinated workbook for L to use along with her taped lessons. Background music includes Chopin and some Gregorian chants. She swears she wants to be a chef and not a teacher, but I don't know...
G created On the Road Latin for her little sister, L. She taped prayers from Latina Christiana, first conjugation and first declension chants and made up a conversational Latin storyline inspired by Powerglide Junior Spanish. There's a coordinated workbook for L to use along with her taped lessons. Background music includes Chopin and some Gregorian chants. She swears she wants to be a chef and not a teacher, but I don't know...
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