Death and Suffering

Food for Thought... What do you think of death and suffering??  I would love to read your comments.  

As a child I was afraid of death and the unknown.  Pictures of angels playing harps and floating on clouds never appealed to me as a way in which I wanted to spend eternity, and the fiery infernos looked sweaty and miserable.  I wanted a peaceful, sleeping passage, and I hoped that I would be worthy of a heaven filled with love, parties, friends, and family.  

Three fabulous reasons to stay alive!  

Over time my fear diminished, yet I rarely spent time contemplating the next life.  Then, in early 2017 I read a book, of which I cannot remember the name, but it prompted me to rethink the most desirable way to go on to my next existence.  I cannot avoid death, and it is a transition to a new quiddity, so why not experience that reality in a conscience state of mind to actualize and discover it?  I don't know anyone who remembers the crushing experience of their birth, but what an astounding moment that must have been.  

The more I thought about it, the more I was intrigued, and I revised my previous hopes for an unconscious journey into a desire to experience the transition fully.  I am not in a hurry, but this new idea caused me to reexamine my feelings around death, and upon some inner reflection, I realized that I no longer fear death.  

Sunrise on Our 18th Wedding Anniversary

My lack of anxiety was tested when a distraught Adam sat down on my ICU bed in November, looked me in the eyes, and explained to me that my gram negative meningitis had a 30% mortality rate.  Upon further research, after the fact, I learned the mortality rate is actually 40-80%.  Yikes!  We talked about it, and I told him I wasn't afraid to die.  I truly wasn't.  I was at peace and joyful, and that may have caused him more stress.  I wanted to live to raise my children, but I joked in sincerity, that death would actually be easier on my end.  He gave me the crazy eyes.  

I remember telling him that if I died, he had my blessing to marry a woman that would be wonderful with our kids, and I reminded him that I was relying on his atheist self to raise our kids Catholic, reviewing the commitment he made years before I was ever pregnant.  

Happy Anniversary!  May 27, 2000

When people say, "He was hit so hard; he never felt it," there is truth to that.  I broke a windshield with my head, and I have no memory of feeling the pain, although that doesn't necessarily mean it didn't happen in the moment.  That idea was comforting because the thought of suffering makes me nervous.  I do not want an impairment or excessive pain, and so far I have avoided suffering, thanks to God, an amazing husband, family, doctors, nurses, therapists, friends, friends of friends, friends of friends of friends... 

One of my concerns upon returning to Puerto Madryn was our remote location.  When we left the airport, I looked across the barren plains, and I hoped they wouldn’t bite me in the butt.  I was only a month free of meningitis, and the thought of it returning thousands of kilometers from the Buenos Aires hospitals was nerve-wracking.  Multiple Madryn natives told me that I was fortunate the accident didn't happen in our little town.  The hospital is not equipped to deal with emergency brain surgery and complications, and I likely would have journeyed on to the next reality.  

I consciously avoid thinking about the possibility of suffering and complications.  The possibilities are numerous...  Maybe the blood transfusions I received were tainted; maybe I will become blind or paralyzed or have a stroke during the cranioplasty; maybe I will fall and hit the hole in my head; maybe a stray corner or elbow or nerf bullet will impale the area above my left ear; maybe I will get a fever and need to have another spinal puncture to check for a new meningitis.  I have never been good at putting worry aside, so I am grateful things are different now.  I haven't lost a moments sleep, and I easily push negative thoughts aside and focus on the positive.  I can only attribute my peace to my faith, and I thank God for it!

My DJ's Top Ten

Hey DJ!  Turn the MUSIC UP RIGHT NOW!

Carmela is a music addict.  Everyone else in our family enjoys moments of quiet, but that girl can listen to music all day, everyday, non-stop, ceaselessly, incessantly, relentlessly, on and on while working, eating, texting, writing, doing homework, everything.  The first word out of her mouth when she walks in the house every time is always, "Musica?"

When the rest of the family has had enough, she pops on the cordless, mobil headset and dances on with life.

I love it because I enjoy music, but don't take the time to play it often enough.  With Carmela around, I don't have to worry.

She has imbued us with a year of her favorite Argentinian/Latino hits, and we all sing along.  Whenever I hear these songs in the future, I will immediately be transported back to our Patagonian life through the power of music.

If you have ganas and want to listen to her Argentinian/Latino favorites

check out her top ten - plus a bonus - playlist.

And because it cracks me up... this is how she
rolls - literally rolls - to the panaderia
for the morning bread.  

.

Jesus is a Facebook Junkie

Juan Noir
My Guapo Paramedic Angel

Stella ignited her own accident investigation after I shared the police report with her.  She cracked-up upon reading that I told the paramedic, Juan Noir, I was 24 years old, and that I didn't know if I was married.  She found a Facebook picture of the guapo caballero, and she laughed even harder, blaming me for lying about my age and marital status since the guy was young and attractive.

Next, she found Jesus's full name and quickly searched him on Facebook.  He wasn't hard to find.  He appears to have an addiction to social media and posts 7-17 threads a day.

Jesus
Maybe he dropped his cell in the lake?

Upon seeing his incessant timeline, my first thought was that he must have been on his cell phone and probably looking at FB when he hit me, so I went back in his history and found that on November 18th, he published 7 posts.  What a boludo!  I can't believe I just called Jesus an asshole!  😂

But seriously, it made me angry that as I was potentially dying from his bonehead maneuver, he was being entertained by videos and enjoying chatty messages with friends.

I imagined Homeboy holding the steering wheel with his left hand and stepping on the gas while simultaneously looking down at the phone in his right hand and gently using his thumb to scroll up through the latest FB posts.

I imagined his surprise as my head busted his windshield and his shock when he felt the thump of his car running over my back and shoulder.

My hypothetical scenario made me angry at him for the first time.  I always assumed it was an accident and that he didn't hit me on purpose, but not because he was too involved with his cellphone and Facebook.

HAPPY Home Therapy
Frozen Corn on My Knees
Gym Equipment Made from Trash

My anger and obsessive reenactment lasted the better part of the day, and it was pulling me away from my happy self.
 
As I did my physical therapy, I was angry that, aside from buying a new windshield, Jesus's life continued on merrily.

As my fingers passed the concave gap in my skull, I was angry that my head needs another surgery with additional risks.

I fantasized about meeting Jesus, taking his cell phone and throwing it into a large, dirty, unretrievable, body of water.  I imagined this over and over.  It felt wrongly satisfying.

A fair warning to those of you who are not into it, I am going to get a little religious.  Being married to an atheist, I am extremely cautious about pushing my religious views on people, and I respect others' beliefs.  I appreciate you respecting mine, yet if me writing about God makes you uncomfortable, no hard feelings.  It is all good!

Stella - Center - the Investigator!

This isn't the person that I am or the person that I want to be.  I needed to stop, but I was having trouble finding my happy place and peace.

I knew that I needed to forgive him, but in the moment, I couldn't.  The previous night I watched a short segment on The Crown with the evangelist Billy Graham telling the Queen that when you can't forgive someone, ask God to forgive you, and pray for the person.  With all of the exercising and therapy I do every day, I have plenty of time to pray, so I tried it.

On my 38 minute afternoon jog to the bandera, I prayed for forgiveness and for Jesus.  I honestly gave it over to the divine Jesus.  It was amazing.  As my feet pattered home, I was filled with peace.  I smiled with joy.  The burden was lifted.  Now I want to hug the guy... and maybe throw his cellphone into a dirty lake.  😜

Bags of Food are BRILLIANT!

Oh so good!

We buy our fresh milk in one liter bags.  Fantastico!  We buy yogurt in bags!  Estupendious!  We buy ketchup, mayonnaise, mustard, and salsa golf in bags!  Barbaro!  We buy pickles and olives in bags!  Espectacular!

Why don't we have bagged food in the US?  This is a million dollar idea!!

Every week in Seattle I fill a giant 96 gallon size recycle bin with huge milk jugs, glass pickle jars, plastic mayonnaise containers... The list goes on and on and on.  If you live in the States, you know it.  Why do we waste so much time with enormous bulky containers that need to be cleaned, recycled, processed...  It is an enormous misuse of our natural resources.

Why not stick everything we can in bags?  It is cheaper for the businesses and consumers.  Bags can also be recycled, and they minimize debris.

And, as an added bonus, it is a lot easier to squeeze every last drop out of a bag of mayonnaise than scrap the sides of an awkward jar.

Busted!!!

And - if you drop the bag, no pasa nada.  Pick it up off the floor and keep going.

The milk stays fresher in one liter containers.  You can cut the hole in the tip to whatever size works for your family, and if you have small kids they can pour it themselves - or just drink straight from the bag! 😱 Yikes!  

Mothers' Day FAIL

I hope all you mamas, grandmamas, and future mamas had a fabulous Mother's Day!  I knew my kids weren't planning much, but I imagined I would take advantage of the day.  We previously prepared, sent off, and enjoyed our annual Mothers' Day video for the Grandmas, and I knew Antonio had something in the works because I was not allowed to enter the kids' room.

As I was preparing breakfast, Antonio and SoJo put their gifts on my chair.  It was sweet.  SoJo delivered a hastily written note that promised a 5 minute back massage anytime I wanted.  My petite little girl is actually pretty good at giving short back massages.  I was thrilled, especially with the scapular pain I ignore on a daily basis.

Carmela quickly chimed in and said that her gift to me was also back massages and extra prayers.  Thank you very much.  I am happy to cash in on both.

Maybe it's my fault...  I gave the kids big glasses
of Coke for the first time just to see what would happen.
My Mother's Day FAIL.

When I saw SoJo drop her dirty dishes in the sink after lunch, I decided to request my first massage.  She giggled, walked over to where I was sitting, and with two fingers she instigated and completed her massage in less than a second.  She thought this was hilarious and off she bounced to play in the other room.  Mothers' Day FAIL.

All day I hoped the kids would volunteer to do the dishes, set the table or prepare a meal.  Mothers' Day FAIL.  When dinner was over and no volunteering had ensued, I assigned them individual tasks... Antonio, wash the dishes.  SoJo, dry and put away the dishes.  Carmela, clean the table and sweep the floor.  It all got done, but next time I an not waiting for volunteers.  They can help with the cleaning after every meal, just like a regular day.

On Monday, I decided to try my back massage luck again, this time with Carmela.  After lunch, I asked, and she responded, "Yeah, but could you give me a shoulder massage too?"  Uh... sure?  Then she roller skated down the hall, and that was it.  Mothers' Day FAIL.

So what was Lil Antonio's gift?  It wasn't a back massage.  It was a wrapped up  McDonald's Happy Meal toy he got with his grandparents last summer.  Y'all are jealous.  Check out my sweet ride!!  I play with it several times a day.  It is pretty awesome.  No strings attached.  That's it.  Happy meal toy.  Personally I enjoy using it to drive the cat nuts-ball crazy, but that's cool!

Oh yeah - and Adam...  True, I am not his mother.  That would be really weird.  He sent a picture after he had spent the day hiking to amazing vistas with the WhatsApp message to the family, "Happy Mother's Day to you all!  I was thinking you when I was hiking to the top of this mountain on Crete."  I am laughing out loud as I write again... Mother's Day FAIL.

Photo evidence of the foto!!  Ha! Ja!

Five days later, I have yet to enjoy a back massage or a solitary hike on a Mediterranean Island, but  today Carmela asked for a pack of gum.  I told her she could sweep half of the house, and I would give her a pack with five pieces of watermelon flavored Extra.  She decided not to take the deal, but then she offered to give me a back massage in exchange for a pack of gum.  I laughed.  Really?  I thought that was my Mother's Day gift, and now you want a pack of gum for it?  Off she skated.  Mother's Day FAIL.

When Adam Is out of Town... the Cook Gets LAZY!

Beets and cheese on toasty grilled bread!

While Adam is enjoying his annual European work vacation, I bust out the quick and lazy recipes he doesn't favor, like beet sandwiches!  They are SO freaking fantastic, and he doesn't like them.  I don't know what his problem is??

Imagine, grilled feta or goat cheese on buttered sour dough, with a thick beet slice in the middle.  In Argentina, we go with whatever sliced cheese and whatever bread, but it is all good.  Sprinkle on some black pepper, and you are rocken it!

More olives please!

We also savor the panaderia's fresh pizza crusts.  We load them up at home with meat, cheese, and olives.  The kids are crazy about olives, and Adam can't stand them, so we olive it up on everything.

Oh the delicious salty preservatives!

And finally. the grand finale!  Top Ramen!!!  The salty, fried, noodle goodness packed with MSG and a mountain of other horrible things...  This is a special treat for our kids.  It is not something my heath-conscience self buys regularly, so to make myself feel better, I serve it with an equal amount of vegetables, and I enjoy the kids enthusiastic squeals of glee.  Personally, I enjoy the 3 minute cook time.  Fabulous!!







I compliment everything with a giant salad, so I am happy.  I throw in some extra lentils or walnuts for protein and call it done.

Immigration... How long can it take?

Argentina immigration was so enamored with our family in April, they did not let us leave the country.  They stamped us out, then had second thoughts at the border, canceled the exit in our passports and turned us around.  This calamity meant that our visas expire on May 10.
 

For the last week, it has been locura, madness, as the kids and I try to renew our visas and stay legally!!!  

Day 1 - Friday, 4 de Mayo - We have 6 days left in the country on our current visa. 

I pull the kids out of school.  I miss physical therapy.  We get to the immigration office at 7:30 AM.  We are first in line.  I get processed.  Antonio gets half way through the process, and ... everything goes black.  The electricity in the entire city was cut.  They sent us home.

Two and a half hours later, the lights are back on, and we return, only to be turned away.  The lights in the office are still off and the computer technician is working on the "system."  They tell us to come back on Monday.  

I am a little annoyed that I have to take my kids out of school again?!?!  A compassionate woman pulls me aside, and on the down-low she tells me not to bring the kids.  Cool.

Day 1 - Sitting in the dark

BORING

Day 2 - Monday, 7 de Mayo - We have 3 days left on our visas.

GO HOME!

I show up at the office at 9:15, after physical therapy.  

There is a sign on the door - Systems Are Down.  Pardon the bother.  WHAT??  I go in the office and talk to the couple sitting back enjoying mate and a day off with pay.  They insist I come back... tomorrow... with my kids.  Yup, I have to take them out of school AGAIN.  LAME.

Day 3 - Tuesday, 8 de Mayo - We have 2 days left on our visas.

The kids and I rendezvous at 9:10 at CIK.  We walk to immigration.  It is PACKED.  Everyone and his mother are trying to get the work done from the last week.  We inspect our place in the crowd.  Finally it is out turn and just in time.  They only process 10 people a day for visa issues, ?!?! and we are numbers 8, 9, and 10.  Everyone after us gets turned away.  Thank goodness I was processed on Friday, or I would have been unlucky number 11.

The kids place each fingerprint on the mini scanner which takes nearly an hour ?!?! then Adam picks them up and takes them to school.  

I am handed our four invoices which I need to pay at the National Bank two blocks away.  The line is endless.  The waiting room is overflowing.  People are spilling out the door, I take a number and wait.  I only have two hours before I have to pick up the kids from school.  I don't think I will make it. 

There is one line that is moving.  I decide to stand in it and play my, "Gringa, Extranjera, I don't know what I am doing," card.  Twenty minutes later I am at the front, I explain my situation, and the guy gives me a new number - with priority.  The Gringa card worked!  Ten more minutes, and my special number pops up on the screen.  People are always happy to take my money, so paying the bills takes less than three minutes.  

I trot back to Immigration with my stamped receipts and hand them over.  I am told to wait "un ratito."  Fifteen minutes later, I look at my watch.  I have 13 minutes to get home and get in the car to pick up the kids from school on-time.  I ask if I can come back tomorrow, and receive a crazy-eye, "Si!"

I run home, down a half liter of water and with a minute to spare, I get in the car and pick up the kids... in the same workout clothes I put on at 5:30 in the morning, smelly, and starving, but I made it on time!  Whoot!

Day 4 - Wednesday, 9 de Mayo - One day left on the visas.

I show up at Immigration; it is packed; I am recognized, and within five minutes I have my papers and success.  

Then, standing in the middle of the room with 25 people watching, they ask about my husband... Why wasn't he here?  Why didn't we renew his Visa?

Well folks, with one day to spare, he is boarding a plane in Buenos Aires this evening and leaving the country.  He needed a vacation (and to teach a workshop), so he is off to the lovely Grecian island of Crete for the next 10 days.

Must be nice.  Peace out Babe!  Next time I am going with you!!!

Day 3? I have lost track...

So what do the kids think of all this...

Carmela - "Immigration - not recommended."

SoJo - "They should turn the immigration office into a bouncy house made out of marshmallows.  Then people would be more excited to go there."

Caleb Antonio - "Never go to Immigration because it is the boringest place you can go to.  Never go.  Ever."