Crackberry Jam for Missionary Cougars

I made all my connections like clockwork, which is a rare event. Leaving the house in Chetumal, Mexico at 10:30 p.m. headed for the bus station, I caught a cab right away. Arriving at the terminal not even 15 minutes later, I bought a ticket for the executive class, midnight bus to Cancun. No stops in between, it was a straight shot up the highway to Cancun and I arrived at the downtown bus terminal at 5:20 a.m., just in time to get the 5:30 shuttle to the airport, a 45 minute ride.

So I am at the airport in Cancun, too early to check into my Spirit Airlines cheapo flight to Detroit. I am prepared though with my book and turkey bagel sandwich brought from home and Starbucks is right there beconing me. I have my laptop case and a regular size suitcase, and the place is deserted except for me and the Starbucks lady. I wheel my suitcase over to a nearby table and go to the counter to order a coffee to sip while I eat my bagel brought from home. I don't pay airport prices if I can help it. I would rather bring a sandwich from home than order some expensive piece of nothing.

As I turn and walk back to my table, I see her coming towards me totally dolled up at 6:15 a.m. We are the only two in sight. I don't believe in dolling things up just to get on an airplane with people I will never see again. I am not here to impress anyone, I am just getting from Point A to Point B. I am wearing my Mexican Frida dress and just want to be cool and comfortable in the 103 degree heat. Miss Purple Glitter Eyeshadow with her bling bling shirt and high heels and her enormous suitcase wheel up to the Starbucks counter and order a fancy expensive coffee drink. I am not really paying attention because it is all about the turkey bagel sandwich with dijon mustard now and the John Grisham novel for the next hour. But I do turn my head as she bulldozes her way through the tables and chairs to get to the couches with her coffee and enormous suitcase talking on her blackberry. I watch her as she plops down and starts screaming into the blackberry "WHAT THE FOK! SO YOU ARE FOKING NOT GOING TO FOKING PICK ME UP FROM THE FOKING AIRPORT??!!!! WELL FOK YOU! and then she whips her blackberry, which then becomes a crackberry, across the room and it lands at my feet. What am I supposed to do now, kick it back at her and yell "YOU'RE IT!" I should have just minded my own business because while I was enjoying the SCENERY, the tomato from my turkey bagel sandwich was slowly sliding out the bottom and rolling down the front of my white Frida Dress.

I am trying to clean up the buffet I have created down the front of me and the crackberry phone is still on. I can hear him, the nameless faceless man "Babe... babe... babey... you know I love you... babe... babe... answer me."

The phone went quiet for a few moments and I thought he had hung up and I hear again "Baaaaabbbbbeeeeeeyyyyyy!" loud and clear like its coming from the airport announcement speakers.

Eventually she retreived her phone, not one glance in my direction, nonplussed. I buried myself in my book and didn't even glance up when the newly arrived athlete decided to do olympic stretches at the table next to me. By that time I had pushed my Permanent Ignore button.

Most of the trip was uneventful. I had my aswers practiced and ready in my head
when going thru immigration on entering the U.S. at Detroit Metro. The waitress, oops I mean stewardess passing out the immigration forms made it very clear that if you made a mistake on your form you were NOT going to get a new one. The mistake I made was in the writing of my residence. I do not live in the U.S., and realized this slip up before landing. I physically live in Mexico more than in Belize right now, so I put a slash mark after U.S.A. and wrote Mexico, then realized that I don't have residency in Mexico, I am on a 6 month multiple entry visa, which I had to turn in at the airport since it was going to expire while I was gone. My real residency is Belize, so I put a slash mark after Mexico and wrote Belize.

Trouble brewing, and I felt it. No time to make up a story. The immigration lady officer wasn't too interested, glancing up and down at the salad bar buffet imprinted on my Frida dress. However, the customs agent was absurdely curious. A young guy, tall and probably in his late 20s or early 30s commented on the USA/Mexico/Belize residency and asked me the trick questions.
Customs Officer: "How long have you been out of the country?"
Me: long pause.."Its been 10 months since I left"
Customs Officer: "What were you doing while you were out of the country?"
Me: long pause... "Well, I'm a painter and a photographer."
Customs Officer: "So, what were you doing while you were out of the country?"
Me: "Painting pictures and taking photographs."
Customs Officer: "So did you just go down there and hook up with someone?"
(I am thinking... what does this have to do with smuggling flora and fauna?)
Me: "Well, my husband is Belizean, we have been married for 4 years, so I guess the answer is yes."
Customs Officer: (with a funny look on his face) You can pass...
Me: "Huh?" I am mentally preparing for the "Search"
Customs Officer: Its o.k. you can go
As I am walking away... I start to wonder... was he flirting with me? And I sigh, well that is just magical thinking. I decide that next time I am just going to tell them I am a missionary.

I wheel into the arrivals area and Supergirl is waiting for me with the big ole Lincoln at the curb, and the first words out of her mouth aren't "Hi Mom, nice to see you, been a long time, what presents did you bring for me?" But rather.....
Supergirl: That outfit is screaming "STRIPSEARCH" (as she looks up and down the salad buffet Frida dress)
Me: Must be the crotchless panties.
Supergirl: Gross
Me: You started it...

Photo Friday - The Coast

Two Mayan women walk down the beach at the coastal town and port of Progresso, Mexico on Easter weekend.

Check out more Photo Friday submissions.

Photo Friday - Children

Boys and Birds on the Beach, Caye Caulker, Belize

I don't actively shoot. I don't walk around with my camera looking for things to photograph. Most of my shots happen when I am supposed to be doing something else, like looking at the bride and groom riding their bikes down the beach, jumping off a pier or walking towards me.
For me, my pictures just happen, they aren't planned or sought after.

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Annie On Her Wedding Day

"My fiance doesn't like his picture taken, so we don't want too many posed photos." Annie told me in the email just prior to arriving for their wedding.

"Not too surprising, most men don't like have their pictures taken." I thought to myself.

We met the night before the ceremony and I could see how shy he was and how outgoing she was.
"No problem." I told them, "I hardly ever even look at the groom, it's all about the bride."
And it IS all about the bride.

The day of the ceremony, we met at 3 p.m., the ceremony was to be at 5 p.m., a bit late for Caye Caulker.

"Want a beer?" the groom asked me as I arrived to start the beach portraits.
His nervousness made me nervous so I accepted.
Annie was doing her hair and putting on her makeup, I got busy photographing the dress. Setting up that shot takes time and is harder than it looks, being an interior shot with low light and I hate to use a flash, so I just shoot and shoot and shoot and sooner or later something is bound to turn out right.

I tried to not use runon sentences, I didn't want to spook the groom, so Annie and I just went about our business of the taking-of-the-photos for Mom and Grandma and Auntie and Friends.

She and I went out to the beach to give him space to get ready and relax and calm himself. I don't believe he was nervous about getting married, no not at all. He was nervous about me. I assured him I only take thinner, younger pictures and we headed down the beach to my favorite coconut trees and Tia Ilna's rickity bench. I consciously have to slow myself down, it helps in the end result. I have to remind myself it is not a race. More is not better, it is just more, as I mentally worked through my shot list.

After an hour we swang back by the hotel and picked up the groom and slowly made our way down the beach. Before leaving the pool area, several onlookers offered shote of tequilla, and being the very observant photographer that I am, I was able to photograph what I call "Tequilla Face," the UGH!

"Plenty of time, plenty of time, no rush, go slow." I kept telling myself as I suggested that we stop at Popeyes on the beach for another beer. A couple of Cuban guys have taken over the bar and restaurant, and were excited when Mr. Ku, the minister also stopped in to chat with us and drink a juice. The Cuban guys mistakenly thought that we were going to have the ceremony there.

"Sorry, sorry, next time, next time" I said as we ambled down.
"We cook a pig for you next time and make big party."
"O.K., no problem" I said over my shoulder as we continued ambling down the beach.

I hadn'tnoticed it until then.... the groom had relaxed into the momenet.

The ceremony was at the end of Tropical Paradise's dock. I have timed the wonderful Mr. Ku, our marriage minister for Caye Caulker. It is typically a 6 minute ceremony, but 30 minutes later, we were still listening. The wedding party was the bride, groom, minister, photographer, and Sally the Wedding Planner and Scott, her boyfriend as wittnesses.

The bride and groom had a lot to say to each other. They told what they liked and loved about each other. They had a lot of promises to each other. But they were good promises about how they were going to treat each other and what they expected from the realtionship. I learned a lot about them and their relationship during the ceremony.

In this job you meet people and spend a couple of hours with them and it is all surface stuff, and make nicey nicey. But this shy man revealed whole other levels, and I was honored to have been a wittness to it.

Photo Friday - Nightlife

Let's Dance!
A late night rainy night wedding reception at Habaneros on Caye Caulker. The guests made an impromptu dance floor from one side of the verandah. Life is an experiment, and this was shot in night portrait mode, (whatever that means) on my new Canon 40D. Fortunately, I did not catch anyone's panties (in case you are wondering) as I stood outside the verandah rail and shot from the floor up.

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"Let's Dance" by David Bowie
Let's dance put on your red shoes and dance the blues
Let's dance to the song
they're playin' on the radio
Let's sway
while color lights up your face
Let's sway
sway through the crowd to an empty space
If you say run, I'll run with you
If you say hide, we'll hide
Because my love for you
Would break my heart in two
If you should fall
Into my arms
And tremble like a flower
Let's dance for fear
your grace should fall
Let's dance for fear tonight is all
Let's sway you could look into my eyes
Let's sway under the moonlight,
this serious moonlight
If you say run, I'll run with you
If you say hide, we'll hide
Because my love for you
Would break my heart in two
If you should fall
Into my arms
And tremble like a flower
Let's dance put on your red shoes
and dance the blues
Let's dance to the song
they're playin' on the radio
Let's sway you could look into my eyes
Let's sway under the moonlight,
this serious moonlight

On Being Schooled

I was asked to participate by a board member, at the 11th hour at an exhibition of women artists in Belize. I found out about it less than a week before the opening, and rushed to create a lovely piece titled: Three Women, Inspiration, The Idea, Creative. I wish I could say that the exhibition at the Bliss Institute went well, but after driving 3 hours with my very irritable husband, and then listening to speeches from women about how we shouldnt apologize for who we are, and how women in general are under represented and especially in Belize it is a mans society running the art world, I found that my painting, which I had painted specially for this exhibition and sent 2 days before the show opened, had not been displayed, but had been thrown into a storage closet. I hadnt even received a courtesy email telling me, and there was no excuse, since it was easy to find in the packet of information I sent along with the painting. I was told this by a very smug Bill Skinner. There was plenty of floor space, and they couldn't drag out an easel?????

So I sent my very irritable husband to the storage room with the very smug Bill Skinner to get the painting and I got back into the car and drove 3 hours in the night back home. Not exactly a good day. ´

So, I was schooled:I thought things would change with the new administration. With the last government, the art scene was run by men, and it showed. I had hope for this new administration, but now I am as confused as with them as I am by Obama's rhetoric. You can give speeches on women's rights and how we are underrepresented, but if those same people are disrespecting you and schooling you, teaching you a lesson, they are no better than the last.
They schooled me and taught me that:
YOU ARE NOT IMPORTANT
YOUR WORK MEANS NOTHING
YOU ARE NOT A PART OF OUR SCENE

So, Dear ones, I don't need anyone to school me, I already feel shitty enough about myself as it is, you don't need to add to the anger and hurt. I lost a day that could have been spent creating beautiful things in my studio. I lost money on gas and expenses to attend, freight charges to send the painting via airplane. But you schooled me, and that is the important thing. THANK YOU.

Photo was added on March 12, 2010. Thank you Natalie for sending it.

Sometimes a Banana is Just a Banana, Anna

I came across a website that I hadnt looked at in years. I used to go to this site every day to see how I felt. It was a little bit of an obsession. And even though it wasnt 100% correct I found the advice always nurturing and uplifting.

So today, I was reminded of it and I went to look up the free card of the day, and it was a telling one...

The Dream

This has been said again and again, down through the ages. All the religious people have been saying this: "We come alone into this world, we go alone." All togetherness is illusory. The very idea of togetherness arises because we are alone, and the aloneness hurts. We want to drown our aloneness in relationship.... That's why we become so much involved in love. Try to see the point. Ordinarily you think you have fallen in love with a woman or with a man because she is beautiful, he is beautiful. That is not the truth. The truth is just the opposite: you have fallen in love because you cannot be alone. You were going to fall. You were going to avoid yourself somehow or other. And there are people who don't fall in love with women or men--then they fall in love with money. They start moving into money or into a power trip, they become politicians. That too is avoiding your aloneness. If you watch man, if you watch yourself deeply, you will be surprised--all your activities can be reduced to one single source. The source is that you are afraid of your aloneness. Everything else is just an excuse. The real cause is that you find yourself very alone.
Osho Take it Easy, Volume 2 Chapter 1

Commentary:
Some enchanted evening you're going to meet your soulmate, the perfect person who will meet all your needs and fulfill all your dreams. Right? Wrong! This fantasy that songwriters and poets are so fond of perpetuating has its roots in memories of the womb, where we were so secure and "at one" with our mothers; it's no wonder we have hankered to return to that place all our lives. But, to put it quite brutally, it is a childish dream. And it's amazing we hang on to it so stubbornly in the face of reality. Nobody, whether it's your current mate or some dreamed-of partner in the future, has any obligation to deliver your happiness on a platter--nor could they even if they wanted to. Real love comes not from trying to solve our neediness by depending on another, but by developing our own inner richness and maturity. Then we have so much love to give that we naturally draw lovers towards us.

Osho Zen Site

Osho Zen Tarot Page, Try a Card of the Day
Copyright © 2010 Osho International Foundation

In the past 2 years, sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night and think, where am I and what am I doing here? But now I am o.k. with being alone, it has taken me time to get to this place, but now that I realize I am here, it is fine.

Beware of the Crying Muchacha

I have passed a milestone. This morning I successfully talked and cried my way out of a Mexican traffic ticket. Going the wrong direction on a one way street. I said these magic words -Lo siento, mea culpa, mea culpa. (I am sorry, my fault, my fault) accompanied by a bucket of tears and the bewildered Mexican police officer let me go with a warning.
Hmm... I will have to remember that, say you are sorry and cry...

A Trip to the Mexican Dentist

I was desperate. That is what it usually takes for me to submit myself to helplessness and drilling into my skull.

I found them on the internet and since my phone spanish isnt as good as my in person spanish, (because you cant see my hand gestures over the phone) I grabbed a cab and tried for a walk in. The receptionist put me out of my language misery when I said in Espanole, --Soy tengo dolor aqui - me have pain here - (pointing to my mouth), and answered me in English telling me that the dentist can see me in a few minutes.

She took me into a thoroughly modern and hygenic office with a TV mounted on the wall and the Dentist, speaking perfect English (although the word for ouch is the same in almost every language) took an X-ray and gave me an estimate and set up an appointment for the next day. I And (drumroll please) the cost of a root canal on a bicuspid, a stainless steel post driven into my skull to hold it in place, and a porcelain crown was 4,000 pesos, and at an exchange rate of 12.5 to the dollar it was $320 U.S. I have the temporary on right now and the permanent will be installed next week. The temporary looks so good that I am half tempted to not come back, but since I have paid in advance, I will. I promise.

Having the stainless steel peg put in was pretty intense, but I will just blame it on menopause. Two doctors did that part, and the other doctor was young and female and did a lot of cooing to soothe me as she held my head in a neck lock. (just kidding folks, she did the suctioning). My favorite part was when she said --Mrs. Lee Ann, I give you all of my kindness, it ok to cry you can cry it o.k. you cry now-- Awe shucks that was the nicest thing anyone had said to me all day, in fact all week. She then complimented me, and at this stage in the game, it sounded pretty good when she said -for a woman your age you have more teeth in your mouth than the average.-

Before I left, I asked the dentist if they ever did gold front teeth anymore, and he gave a deep sigh and said, -alas, no, gold is too expensive, and these days and no one likes to see shine in the front anymore.-

Where were you (10 years ago) at Y2K and what were you doing?

I was on a nearly empty first flight out of Detroit Metro airport headed for Cancun Mexico and then ultimately for Belize. I figured (correctly) that they would not put that big plane in the air if they thought it would crash.

I was a tier 2 supplier for GM and had to file a Y2K plan months in advance. My plan was this: I plan on turning the clock back one year on all my computer equipment, then unplugging everything. And as it turned out, Y2K was a non-issue.

10 years ago would I have figured that I would be in this place at this time, doing this thing? I came to Belize initially on an exploratory mission. I had checked out other places, and they didn't fit. I knew I wanted out of the rat race, and out of corporate America. I was in the publishing business and subject to crazy deadlines, technology glitches, and other people's bad planning. It nearly wrecked me. So that was the year I decided to bail. Back and forth I went, working on plans & contacts.

I get asked this questions all the time: "Did you come down here on vacation and stay?" And the answer is no, it was part of a 3 year plan to exit. When my youngest daughter went into high school, the light bulb went on over my head and I realized that I didn't HAVE to do this forever and forever. I needed to do something for myself, I had been working since I was 12 years old, first job was in the family business, then for the U.S. government, then for a big university, then a corporate publisher, and then for myself (the worst torture ever imaginable).

10 years ago, I was the typical idealist. I got down here and flopped around for a while, a fish out of water. I made some mistakes and nearly got swindled in a land deal, but somehow some way I was saved by the strangest twist of events. It took a full year to acclimatize myself and not break a sweat at the thought of moving my limbs. On Caye Caulker there are signs saying "Go Slow" and you think that it is referring to the speed of golf carts. Well, really it is the speed for walking. If you walk slow you sweat less.

So this morning, the first morning of 2010, its a little rainy and cool, but living in Belize is still better than having to get a real job.

So, the question I pose is where were you and what were you doing on Y2K?