Project: Painting the Room PHOTOS

Project One: The Pool

 The month of projects.  The reasons I haven't written are twofold:  I have been working so much and have had workers in and around the house for several weeks now. Projects are officially finished for now, for now being the usable word here, because an old house like this is never lacking potential projects.  

First of all, Pablo and I painted the pool a couple years ago but the sun and chemicals took their toll.  This year the pool was left dry from October til mid February when I found some great workers to do the repairs and paint.  As you can see from the cement, there were a few cracks in the pool where water was seeping out.  There were chips of cement broken off the sides that have now been repaired. 

 The rust colored pole you see here doesn't' have a top on it and it was full of water, oxidating the pole and rotting the pole from the inside. They fixed it and built a cement platform for it, as well as topping the pole so rain doesn't enter.  The cement had to dry for several days.

 And then came this day. The paint job. No more nicks, rust, low spots for water to collect along the wall  and a beautiful new white acryllic surface around the pool  to finish the new look.

 I promised to be in that pool by March1st and by God, the photos below are taken March 1st,more or less.  Close enough. 

 My office opened up that day. The step in the corner is my favorite desk in the house. I do my best writing out there.  It was so hot here in February I'd wished the pool were full and heated.  By the time I got it finished a minor cold front came in and I could only use the pool a couple times, since it was windy and cool during the day.  Now I am  happy I have my pool and i've begun exercising.  My flabby Polish arms were showing, time to do those pool exercises again.  Bring on summer, I'm ready.

Coincidence? The Oaxaca/Guerrero Quake

As the world probably knows by now, Oaxaca and Guerrero were the epicenters for several earthquakes (18 by evening, smaller aftershocks, some around 5.1).  That's not a surprise, they have quakes in that area all the time.  There are many live volcanos in México and Central America, and as I know from living near a live volcano, it causes lots of earthquakes.

When they said it was a 7.9 on the Richter scale, I had to go to my favorite earthquake site to check it out. Since the quake hit rural areas, it was hard to find much information.  Everything on the TV news was about the people in México City, where they felt the quake quite strongly. The city is built over a lake and I question its stability on a good day, but after the big quake in '85 the 'Chilangos' knew what to do.  So far still no injuries have been reported, but there has been a lot of structural damage.  Damage closer to the epicenter is harder to learn about since it struck in an area in small pueblos which are very remote and  hidden in the mountains.

A few of the comments I read while moderating yesterday said  in reference to the quake 'somehow Obama will get involved in this too.' And I am sure he did. I haven't read any news yet today, but I am aware his daughter was on a school trip to Oaxaca.  So the commenter was right.  I do hope they don't BLAME him like they usually do for absolutely everything.  There wasn't much to damage in Oaxaca, mostly low structures, so I bet she is fine but a little shook up.

And now to the heart of this blog. The news I read yesterday that fascinates me is reprinted below.  The entire state of Chiapas planned a big earthquake drill for yesterday at noon.  To get all of the state to participate is difficult, most of Chiapas is extremely rural.  However 16,300 schools closed, and the government agencies and military were all out in force to pretend they had just been struck by a 7.9 earthquake. This is not a  hoax or information that was published after the fact.  They would have had to plan this for a while to get everyone involved. I am completely beside myself with this coincidence, incredulous you could say. Check it out.

For a complete look at the flyer, open this linkhttp://img85.imageshack.us/img85/4526/55750935693923623911500.jpg

Massive drill in Mexico coincides with real earthquake

Telediario
Tue, 20 Mar 2012 07:32 CDT

Translated from Spanish by Sott.net

The government of the state of Chiapas had prepared for today at 12:00 a massive drill ("mega simulacro") of a 7.9 earthquake in the Richter scale.

A poster of the government of the southern state of Chiapas announcing a massive earthquake drill

Monterrey - It was nothing but a moment of panic, as there are no lost lives, the president of Mexico Felipe Calderón Hinojosa confirmed today in Monterrey, commenting on the 7.8 earthquake in the Richter scale with epicenter in the borders of the state of Guerrero and that was felt in Mexico City and several other states.

In view of the scale of the event and because there have not been any lost lives, it is noteworthy that the government of the state of Chiapas had prepared precisely for today at 12:00 a massive drill ("mega simulacro") of the earthquake - something that is being actively discussed in social media networks.

The objective of the drill is to test the response capability of the State System of Civil Protection and General Population in the event of a large-scale disturbing phenomenon. Its official web page stated that the exercise would enable the evaluation and feedback of action protocols in case of an earthquake.

"Earthquake Drill of 7.9 degrees", could be read on the title of the promotion of the event, which was expected to involve all the population at that time.

It should be noted that the National Sismological Service (SSN) informed today that the 7.8 earthquake in the Richter scale was registered at 12:03 local time (18:03 GMT) and its epicenter was located at 29 kilometers south of Ometepec, in the southern state of Guerrero, at a depth of 15 kilometers.

Therefore, it is suprising that the planned time of the massive drill was only a three-minute difference from the time of the real earthquake, and that the drill was for a 7.9 while the real one was 7.8 - only a 0.1 difference.

The massive drill, organized by the state government of Chiapas, had announced and planned it since the beginning of February.

Comment: A three-minute difference and almost the same intensity? It is too much coincidence to let it pass unnoticed.

Carnaval 2012 Up Close & Personal

Yesterday was Fat Tuesday and the days and days of Carnaval and partying is done for another year.  I only attended one parade this year, on Monday to see the Regional Yucatecan theme.  I'm a terrible kid at a parade plus I drink beer there (if I'm not mistaken it's a requirement) since I don't even really like beer - but I can suck 'em up at a Carnaval parade! I stand in our 'palco' (box seats) and  lean into the street to take photos and ruin the view or chance for my compadres to get any good shots without my head or arm in the way.  I'm surprised someone would go to a parade with me TWICE.  As far as I know a good time was had by all even if I took the best angle at the shots. And drank too much beer. I was advised next time I have to sit on the far end, not the first seat blocking everyone's view.  Ok. Deal.  

Instead of posting a bunch of float pictures like I have done at length in past Carnaval posts, I'm going to just post some pics of the people in the parade. Up close and personal.

My Aloha Forever

I have printed this before. However in honor of Jim Dorton day today, here it is again:

Aloha means hello and goodbye.  It means “love to you”.  My husband inscribed “My Aloha Forever” inside my wedding ring.  Although it is the most commonly heard Hawaiian word, it is always spoken from the heart.  Everywhere in Hawaii, everyone you meet will smile and say “Aloha” to you.

This is a story about a man who lived aloha.  My husband Jim was a sailor, an adventurer, a storyteller.  He was stout, had rosy cheeks and a colorful vocabulary.  When you were with him there was never a dull moment. He was always the life of the party.  He was a wild man but the smile in his eyes told you he was a guy with whom you could be yourself. There was nothing pretentious about him. 

We never had much money and we were never interested in material things.  Nor did we lack for much, for in giving we received much in return.  I couldn’t have asked for a more loving man in my life.  We spent 21 wonderful years together.  He was always there for me, and always there for a friend in need. He was a kind and generous man. 

Standard daily men’s wear in Hawaii consists of colorfully printed short-sleeved aloha shirts, usually worn with shorts and Hawaiian “slippers”, or flip-flops.  All the Hawaiian aloha shirt designs tell a story of some kind.  Jim loved his extensive collection of aloha shirts. He had more aloha shirts than my entire wardrobe of work, play, warm and cold weather gear combined.   It would have taken him a two month stretch to wear all of his shirts.  It was quite fitting that Jim cherished his aloha wear, he was a man full of love.

In 2004, Jim’s weight dropped from 220 lbs. to 135 lbs. Our worst nightmare was confirmed with the diagnosis of a rare incurable cancer and ensuing surgical removal of half his insides. Even in his weakest state his generosity never waned.  When his friends visited him he would disappear into our bedroom briefly and return to the living room – big smile on his face - with one of his aloha shirts.

“Here, my friend, I’d like you to have this, I’ll never grow back into it,” he’d say.

Jim’s disease eventually consumed him and he passed away in February of 2006.  After two years of caring for my life partner, my soul mate, I was devastated.  Life wasn’t fair and I was angry.  After trying to hold down my full time job and be his caregiver, I was so exhausted and sad; I was not sure whose adrenaline I was running on.  I had kept a brave face for Jim.  He was so strong. 

As his life neared its end, he specifically asked me for an ash scattering on the catamaran FAIRWIND and a wild drinking bash in his honor afterwards.  Many of our friends used to be Jim’s drinking buddies, but most of us had long since quit.  Jim’s last requests would be granted however.

I was struggling to organize his services when it occurred to me to give all of his aloha shirts to those who attended.  I thought it would be beautiful if everyone donned his clothes.  I knew he’d be present at that party and I thought he’d enjoy it. 

When our family and many friends flew in from the mainland, I told them how Jim had been gifting his shirts during to visitors and loyal local friends.  I said if wasn’t too weird for them it would please me if each of them chose one of his shirts to keep.  I added a stipulation: they would have to wear it to the celebration of his life.  In one way I could creatively clear out the closet; but much more importantly, it seemed an excellent channel to continue to spread his love and keep his spirit alive. 

The ash scattering had its sad moments.  I was too choked up to say what I had planned.  I had to delegate most of the program.  It was awesome and though tears were shed, Captain Danny led some elegant prayers in Hawaiian to properly send Jim back to his beloved ocean.  His friend Chip performed a beautiful reading of “I must go down to the sea again...,” it was perfect.  I don’t know how that poem found me. I also located a Fijian chant that brought back memories of Jim’s and my greatest adventure: sailing from Hawaii to Samoa, Tonga and Fiji, and I added that to the ceremony. 

I tossed some of his ashes into the sea, when an idea hit me. Why not invite everyone to throw ashes?  It is not traditional in an ash scattering, it may even be inappropriate.  I threw all caution to the wind.  It was Captain Jim we were dealing with.  He was neither traditional nor appropriate!  We all threw loose flowers into the sea to guide his spirit, and that was protocol.  But everyone joined in the throwing of the ashes as naturally as if they were flowers.  You could see his spirit take shape and flow into the deep.  It was at once beautiful, sad and enlightening.  We blasted a CD of his favorite rock and roll tunes and poured a champagne toast to a smooth and happy sailing for Jim’s next adventure.  From that moment you’d never have guessed it was a funeral.  We dried up our tears and turned them into laughter.  Even I was laughing.  I had barely smiled in two years, but there I was having fun.  Granted, it took some champagne to find that first smile, but soon enough my hysteria turned into hysterical laughter.  Maybe I’d survive the ordeal after all.

At first I was shy about mentioning the shirt idea.  People might think I was crazy.  Upon second thought, I decided Jim had inspired me and if anyone thought it was morbid he wouldn’t have to participate.  Au contraire.  I folded and neatly arranged the shirts on the bed before I’d invited the guys in to choose.  It was like Wal-Mart the day after Thanksgiving.  Shirts were flying everywhere.  Like any great sale, they ended up strewn about; the numbers dwindled quickly.  Jim’s oldest and wildest childhood friends went straight for his absolute favorite shirts, though they hadn’t been to Hawaii in years, and likely hadn’t seen him wear any of them.  Walter had four shirts on his pile but I didn’t have the heart to stop him.  He was always Jim’s ‘brother’.  I could see the appreciation in the “WOW!” on his face.  He immediately put on Jim’s favored faded purple shirt and wore it every day he for a week. 

            The shirts went so fast I scurried into my bedroom to find his t-shirts and hats I was going to keep. When Jim worked for months at sea and visited ports without me, he always brought me unique artifacts and collectibles, so I would have great memories of him.  I brought out the rest of his t-shirts, hats, and lava-lavas (Hawaiian men’s sarongs).  They disappeared in minutes. 

I could feel Jimbo smiling.  I was amazed at his friends’ reactions when they chose their remembrances of him.  I didn’t feel weird at all.  In most cases, they were able to find items reminiscent of special times they had shared with him.  Old Man Tom, at 84, flew in from California.  He had remembered to bring the Pussers Rum cup Jim had given him 20 years earlier when Tom visited us in the British Virgin Islands.  The old bugger had just recovered from a heart attack and a stroke, but he drank straight Pussers Rum in his new aloha shirt and fishing hat until 3am.  What a trouper.  He was the ideal example of Jim’s fine long-lasting friendships. 

Several months later as I write this I recognize our friends in town by his shirts.  Others email or call to say, “I’m wearing Jim’s shirt (hat, jacket, shorts, shoes, watch, foul-weather gear, etc.) today and I wanted to tell you I was thinking about you both.”  I look at the photos from the celebration and see all those shirts.  And I smile.  I see people hugging, laughing, some of them crying.  When I think about what we went through I still cry, mostly because I had to hold in the hurt while he was ill.  But when I see everyone wearing all of his things it is like a great Jim Dorton masquerade party. I especially like the photos from late that night when we were all notably looped. They make me laugh. They are filled with much aloha.

I gave away all of his clothes except for his slippers.  They still sit outside the front door, Hawaiian style.  They belong there.  Inevitably when one of my brothers or a friend visits they’ll forget to bring theirs.  Jim can still lend them his as he always did. 

I’m glad Jim inspired me to pass on his things that day.  As long as the threads hold together his tales will be told.  This is one small way I hope to keep his legacy alive; as his aloha spirit has traveled far.  People had often said of Jim, “He’d give you the shirt off his back,” and he did, all of them. He gave us his aloha forever.

Remembering Jim Dorton

"Sea-Fever"

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

By John Masefield (1878-1967).
(English Poet Laureate, 1930-1967.)

"Yo no soy marinero, soy capitán, soy capitán...."  That was my Jimmy. Seaman, Captain, Marine Surveyor, funny guy, story teller, adventurer....to name a few of his talents. 

He loved tall ships.  He sailed interisland Hawaii on the remake of the SS Endeavor and climbed the masts of tall ships at every opportunity.  Either he was a tall ship sailor in a former life or his appreciation and knowledge of the world of boating enticed his interest.   After he passed away, six years ago today, I tried to continue to live in Hawaii, but that was Jim's paradise.  I found it to be too difficult, faced with memories everywhere I went and with everyone I spoke to. Of course there were lots of good friends and happy memories too, but I couldn't see them through the cloud of grief in which I was immersed.  When I came to Mérida to look for a house a year later, in my paradise -  the Yucatán - this house was the third one I looked at.  The hand painted tile(s) above hang proudly in my carport.  I leaned against the house, thinking about it, and a piece of the house fell into my pocket. Then I noticed the tiles. I decided that Jim must have picked out this house for me.  Search over, let's sign the papers.

Jim loved México, it was our first topic of conversation when serendipity struck us. He loved adventure and travel, and so did I.  During our twenty plus years as a couple, we accomplished more than some people do in an entire lifetime.  We sailed around the Hawaiian Islands together. A few times. We sailed from Hawaii to Swains Island, American Samoa, Western Samoa, Tonga and Fiji with two good friends of his, the crazy brothers Eric and Mike. He drove tourists on sailboats for sunset and whale watching sails, took private sail charters, did a lot of boat repair and building with his good buddy Rusty on Oahu.  He and I taught diving and he drove boats in Maui, Kona, Fiji, British Virgin Islands....and he had the opportunity to sail to Fiji and Australia to help a sailor friend, plus two trips through the Panama Canal with good friend Dave.  On the first time through, he was on a 64 ft yacht. They were side tied to another sailboat. As they went through the locks, the other yachtie somehow got his boat going around in a circle, so Jim, Dave and the unknown couple went through the entire canal backwards.  Stern to!  I wasn't there for that adventure but I saw the photos.  Hilarious. But successful.

We didn't meet until we were in our 30s. Neither of us had been married or had children, other than me and the cat I dragged to Hawaii from Akumal, México.  He was a loving husband and mate.  He was my best friend. He was my soulmate.  And I thought we would live happily ever after.  

We struggled financially throughout all of our years together because we preferred fun jobs to 'the grind'.  We only worried about money when we wanted to hit the adventure trail...then we worked our asses off for it, sold all our stuff, and away we went.  We started over more than once in a new home, on a new island, with all new (used) stuff.  I loved my life with Jim.  I think about him all the time, I still talk to him.  I have his 'treasure chest' here with a few of his favorite things, and what I have left of his physical self, a few of his ashes.  

He died about this time of day. I miss him.

Jimmy, I will always love you.  But life must go on and I must survive.  For you. For us.  In all my travels I have never met another person like you!  You are missed by many and loved by many more!

Happy New Year

I've been so lapse at blogging lately that I just noticed Blogger changed the entire format.  When I sat down to blog and load photos a week or so ago, I didn't recognize my own page.  Not to mention I wanted to add photos and was unable since they are not online in a Picasa album. That pissed me off, so I downloaded my photos from my hard drive to Picasa. That took forever since I am a photoholic.  Then I lost my ambition to write.

My procrastination was caused in part by my heavy holiday workload, and in a bigger part by the nasty flu/cold going around that has befriended me. I think I got this thing in December, went through some heavy antibiotics, felt better, and then it came back.  Maybe since everyone in the house got it (with the exception of one person who got dengue fever instead) we are passing it back and forth and it's seemingly ours forever.  I hope not. I am currently awaiting the day I wake up and feel TERRIFIC.  (Waiting for Godot?)

The weather is strange this winter. We had a few fresh 28°C (82°F) days so far, and nights down to 18°C (64°F). This week the daytime temp is hovering around 33°C (91°F) and nights still 18°C....in late January! The facts that the air is so humid, we live in rock houses with cement floors, and our blood is used to a daily dosage of 105°F days and 95°F nights from March to October, mean that when the first northerly front blows in we'll freeze and all get sick.  There have been relatively few northerlies; instead we have warm tropical air traveling northward and the weather is perfect.  I don't mind the cool nights, in my cocoon, as long as the temp doesn't dip into the 50sF I'll be alright with winter this year.  But I miss the pool.   

This year we emptied the pool for the winter because it was just a lot of extra work and chemicals trying desperately to get the water to a usable temp.  We can heat up the pool during the day with the solar panels and the hot sun itself, but it cools down to ground temperature over night. It is a losing battle.  This means that this year we are going to fix and paint the pool before refilling it in March. 

I'm a little confused by the weather. I think back to pre-dawn January of the past few years and remember wondering if I'd freeze to death before I could hit the bathroom and climb back into my hammock cocoon. This year so far has been different.  I may be speaking too soon about the weather, it's only mid January, so you may hear from me again about this topic. Like when the first real cold front dips down into our territory. Enough about non-weather.

Here is one more pic of the cuties we babysat for a couple of months in Oct and Nov...and a little of Dec.  They are now safely ensconced in their loft in NYC.  From what my friend Janet tells me, they are living happily ever after. Their stay made the others here very jealous. My cats started marking territory inside the house.  In fact, I saw Buster spray for the first time in 13 years.  Moka still has to do routine inspections in the kitties' old room to make sure they have not returned, or any other cute little buggers like them!

Requiem to Weasel.  Yes, he deserves his own obituary page, but I'm trying to consolidate this cat stuff a bit.  He was having troubles with our cats before we took on kittens, but then it was Buster and Busmo that decided the white one with balls must go.  I don't know if they ran him off, if something happened to him, or what.  He was sitting on a pillow next to me for months, as if I were the only safety he had.  Then one day he didn't come back.  Who knows what happens to these cats that so often go missing?  Weasel was really sweet and I miss him.  Not like I miss Mokito, but something was fishy about his disappearance too. They were buddies and I miss them both.

This photo of Busmo came out in such a way that you can see how HUGE he is when comparing his FOOT to our foot long remote control! He has taken his role of security guard very seriously and has some nasty bite marks this week to show it. We have another intruder.  The neighborhood ferals see this operation and want in. The housecats have decided the club is closed.

Here's Buster with his best friend Cuate.  They are the oldest neutered males and they are great pals. They travel together.  Safety in numbers if for neutered cats I guess. Buster is close to having his 14th birthday!  He would rather be my only cat, but he likes his girlfriend Moka, and I think he secretly likes the rest of the commando.  He is staying closer to home these days, as he approaches his older and wiser years, and letting young Busmo do the fighting for the cause.

Not much info in this blog. It's a hello I'm still here kind of post.  Hello, I'm still here.  Doing much of nothing except when working.  I promise myself, no resolution or it's a lost cause, to write every day.  So far I have not done that, but today is a new day and I have written something here!