On December 30th, while talking on the phone, looking for a pen, and walking too fast, I slipped on a wet spot and fell on my ass. The colonial pasta tiles are made of painted, polished cement that is slippery and hard. I experienced a new level of pain that night.
The next day we went to the Clínica de Mérida to consult a Dr. Hector Maldonado. (Don’t go to him for any reason! He is not only an asshole, he is an idiot.) He said I probably bruised my tail bone and gave me a prescription for an anti-inflammatory and muscle relaxers, or so I thought. He said to wait a couple of days, get xrays, and come back. It was a holiday weekend so I waited until things got back to normal. On Monday we got xrays and went back to the doctor. He was pissed off that I didn’t take the xrays at that particular clinic and said nothing was wrong, prescribing an injection of some sort. He basically accused me of faking the pain and insisted that a steroid injection was all I needed.
I hate injections. Bad childhood memories of a brown recluse spider bite surface and I panic. They do not administer injections at doctors’ offices here. They send you home with a prescription and you do it yourself. Pablo talked me into the injection and gently administered it. It gave me some relief. As the days passed the pain increased. I felt like someone had whacked me across the small of my back with a machete. As if that didn’t hurt enough, the pain spread to my hamstrings, all butt muscles, and I could hardly stand up or sit down.
I found another doctor. He was thorough and knowledgeable. By the time I consulted the second doctor my ass and legs were contracting and throbbing. He looked at the xrays and detected a herniated disc. Of course he said my only option was surgery and titanium pins. But he is supposed to say that, he turned out to be a surgeon. He changed my prescriptions, stating the ones I had would not help me. No steroid injections, just ibuprofen and a lightweight pain medication.
Not being much for surgery, and knowing people who regret having had this type of back surgery, I sought out alternative treatments. I found a chiropractor. Danny De Graff is from San Francisco and has a well organized clinic. I went for a consultation and treatment last Friday. He discovered there is a small fracture on my tailbone as well as the herniated disc. He carefully adjusted me and sent me off to the second room. There they used an electric massage tool and heat on my back. In room eight, they used electromagnetic shock on my behind, with a cold pack because of the inflammation. From there I was sent to room ten, where Nieves the masseuse was waiting for me. She gave me a thorough deep massage for thirty minutes. The entire treatment process lasted two hours, and because I bought “the paquete” of eight sessions the cost of one two hour session works out to about $45. The price of xrays they plan to take after the treatment program is included. To me this was more reasonable than a ten thousand US dollar surgery. Some of my back degeneration is due to all the lifting of heavy gear and scuba tanks, as well as the nitrogen uptake from maxing out the dive tables during my scuba instructor days. And of course, my age factors in too.
There are good days and bad days with this pain. The wet cold fronts that have been passing through don’t help my aching bones. The gloomy days do help me to accept the fact that I must hang out in the hammock with lots of pillows, or lie in bed flat on my back. The bummer is I was in too much pain to concentrate to write or read. The Soma or Flexeril I took helped me maintain the state of zombie-ism required to keep me horizontal and watch the same CSI and Law and Order programs again and again, but I am just not that much of a couch potato to be content doing absolutely nothing but staring at the TV drooling.
Yesterday I went back for my second appointment. The doctor said he could feel my spine whereas on Friday he couldn’t because it was so inflamed. I like the doctor and he doesn’t scare me. I usually have a split second of panic when a chiro gets in position to crack my back or neck…I envision permanent paralysis or death.
I spent extra time in room eight with the electromagnetic shock under a hot pad, then infrared heat. I look forward to the day they put me in the upside down vertical chair. I think my spine would enjoy a really good stretch. Soon come, man, soon come.
Research told me it takes around six weeks to heal a tailbone. I have high hopes that within a few more weeks I will be back on the dance floor. I can tell I feel better because I have a few brain cells operating again. As it turns out, I am an excellent caregiver but a lousy patient. My first lesson of the year is learning to ask for help and not feel guilty that I need some.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
Another Christmas Passed
Jude, Pablo and Jill on Pre-Christmas Eve.
The Navidad altar.
Busmo guards his present.We celebrated Christmas Eve on the 23rd: Pablo, Jude visiting from Georgia, Jill visiting from down the street...actually she was taking on the commando during our absence over Christmas, the commando and me. There were a few gifts under the Christmas altar, and Busmo was particularly attracted to one which happened to be their new scratching post. The catnip inside probably clued him in. Watching the cats enjoy opening gifts was more fun than receiving gifts myself.
One of my gifts from Pablo was this cool pair of "slipper" slippers.
I macramed some friendship bracelets with the clay beads we brought back from La Calma, Honduras. Daniela, Pablo and I painted most of them. I also made some keychains. People love bracelets around here, so I was able to gift several. It was not my most artistic year, but at least I made an effort.
Busmo wins the cutest photo of the week posing in the canoe.I will catch you up on the holiday happenings as soon as I get reorganized. Happy New Year! ¡Feliz Año Nuevo!
Sunday, December 21, 2008
And So This Is Christmas
Today is December 21st. Christmas is happening all around me, and I woke up a little sad because I have not put much energy into the holidays. I used to enjoy making cards, writing letters, making ornaments, putting up the tree and getting together with friends and family. Jim and I had a couple of rough Christmases, but as my girlfriend reminded me, other than those two years the holidays were always fun. I feel guilty that I don't make the effort to get together with my family, especially since my brother invites me every year.
But I am still getting accustomed to a new life in México. I have a family in Pablo and the cat commando. The thought of traveling to the US intimidates me. Having spent the past year trying to get accustomed to the culture here, I cannot just culture hop, not yet. I have trouble switching my brain from Spanish to English in a bilingual situation. I see it in my writing, my thoughts are more formal and my sentences structured oddly. I am also still a little lost since my life changed and try to avoid those family situations where they sit you down and ask, "So what ARE you doing?"
You are looking at my Christmas decorations. Pablo gave me a pipe cleaner tree. The cats tore it up, but I reconstructed it and put it on some pine needles I had left over from Guadalupe day flowers. This is the Christmas altar. We put up a tree and my Mom's nativity scene last year, and then decided to drive around southern Mexico and Guatemala for two weeks.
So this year I decided a token altar, with a Mayan god, St. Francis of Assissi and the pipe cleaner tree with a little scent of pine would be just perfect. Another consideration was the five kittens, and a big tree full of tempting hanging items is just a disaster waiting to happen. Jude is visiting and we are heading to Akumal for Christmas, back to our roots in México, where we met over 20 years ago.
Feliz Navidad. Merry Christmas. Mele Kelikimaka. Happy Holidays. Be safe. Appreciate one another.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Review of Blog, I asked for it.
Waitress, I need two more boat drinks
I'm a native Floridian and as such I love the beach. Not the ones you see on TV with condos and high rise hotels and flashing lights and fine dining. No. I like the ones that haven't been taken over by tourists, the ones tucked away and still obscure (though rarer and rarer), with weathered houses and sand on the floor and dive bars and sticker burrs and restaurants with plastic tablecloths and fried mullet.
I come from a long line of boat and beach people. We've had a place at one of those out-of-the-way redneck beaches since I was little, and my fondest memories of childhood are there, pulling the net and learning to waterski and building drip sand castles on the beach for hours and digging up sand dollars with my toes in the Gulf and paying toothless shrimpers to buy us beer when I was 13. My father and all my uncles spent summers as hands on boats, and one of them, the craziest of them, has spent most of his life on a boat, running from and just "running." He's down there now somewhere south, surfing and telling fish tales and going crazier every day.
So, inherently, I appreciate the inclination to go native, to go tropical. Which is why I was eager to review Lindi's Ideas, bland name and all. Because Lindi has done just that -- gone native -- and she's done it for a while now. And I admire that so very much. She's been all over, working on boats and scuba diving and teaching and, I imagine, having every kind of adventure. She's lost and found and has found herself in the Yucatan with a young Latin lover (I assume he's her lover; she doesn't quite say) and a house in Merida and a life of serenity and observation.
The template, like the name, leaves a lot to be desired. It's your standard blue blogger template. Blah. Flavorless. Soulless. Find something with flavor, something with a little kick. Linda, I know you don't know much about this whole blogging thing, but figure it out. Ask for help. Or go here.
There's no blogroll, or anything else for that matter, which does make it entirely uncluttered. But there's little in the design or in the "extras" to tell us who you are. And for some reason you contribute to your blog twice. How does that work?
The posts are loooong. Like this one, which I'm sure is interesting, but I can't be bothered because it goes on forever without paragraph breaks. Pick a topic and write about it. If the topic is expansive, narrow it down. Break it up. Especially if it's a "we went here and did this and here are the pictures" kind of post. Yawn. People won't care unless you make them care, and dragging on ad nauseum with no break isn't going to do it.
The writing is serene, almost formal. And it tends tends to plod. I wonder if it has to do with switching between English and Spanish (and Mayan!) in her day-to-day life. I have a friend who's lived in Korea for 10 years, and his English writing is now a bit... stilted. Without a voice.
The blog description uses the dreaded word "ramble," and it fits. There's no knowledge of where to end, of when enough is enough. I had a friend like this who couldn't for the life of her end a voicemail message. It's like she had no off switch. She didn't want to sit there rambling forever, awkwardly saying things like, "So, yeah, either call or whatever, you know? Um.... So. Did I say it's me? It is. And it's six o'clock. And we'll be here until whenever, so just, um... Yeah. Oh! Calamity says hi! And... um..." but she couldn't help herself. Hang up the phone already! Have a point! Even in your blog submission form, where you tell us about yourself, the form cut you off. I'm serious! You wrote so much the form said, nope, you're done, we're gonna stop you right there.
And when I say "have a point," I don't mean cat stuff. I like animals, too, mostly of the canine variety, but I don't know anyone who wants monthly updates on my furry friends. They wouldn't want updates if they were my actual children, either, so find something else. You're living in the dang-diddly Yucatan! There has got to be all sorts of junk to write about other than cats.
Linda, you are a fascinating, bold, and brave woman, who no doubt has reams of stories to tell... but you're not telling them. In your submission form you said, "I thought maybe I would sit my ass down to write every day instead of smokin too much dope and staring at teh computer..." Girl, do I ever know the feeling. Trust me, I'm all over that. You also say, "and although I know you will crucify me, fuck it, I am in the mood today. I must be a masochist because I have not shown my real self on that page, in fear of offending my family with my f..." (that's where the form said buh-bye). Awesome. You know there's a problem, you know you're muzzling yourself. And this is never a recipe for good blogging.
This is where it got interesting to me. The calm, peaceful, la-la-la of it all came crumbling down and we see some personality, some frustration, some life. Do more of this! Stop worrying if you offend people. This is the problem with non-anonymous blogs -- people get all wrapped up in what they're saying instead of just saying it. You have, I'm sure, lived one of the most interesting lives being blogged about, but we wouldn't know it because your posts are sanitized and travelogged and shuttered to hell and back. Take the ball gag out and give it back to Love Bites.
Also, in that bit up there from your submission form that I posted? There we get to see how you might talk, what you might sound like. It's more natural, less forced, less "I'm writing so I better write like I'm writing and take it seriously and inject it all with formality and all due decorum." Fuck that. Get real. Tell us the truth, tell us who you are, or don't bother.
Because I do absolutely find you fascinating, and because there's the potential for some great storytelling, I'm giving you
But if you don't step it up, if you don't start editing your writing so that it sounds like you and start telling us the good stuff and start revealing who you are and what you think and where you've been, well: you've been warned. Those flaming fingers singe something fierce.
P.S. Why not write the masterpiece on the blog instead of using the blog to escape from the masterpiece?
# Posted by Calamity.
on the site ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE
or http://iwillfuckingtearyouapart.blogspot.com
I'm a native Floridian and as such I love the beach. Not the ones you see on TV with condos and high rise hotels and flashing lights and fine dining. No. I like the ones that haven't been taken over by tourists, the ones tucked away and still obscure (though rarer and rarer), with weathered houses and sand on the floor and dive bars and sticker burrs and restaurants with plastic tablecloths and fried mullet.
I come from a long line of boat and beach people. We've had a place at one of those out-of-the-way redneck beaches since I was little, and my fondest memories of childhood are there, pulling the net and learning to waterski and building drip sand castles on the beach for hours and digging up sand dollars with my toes in the Gulf and paying toothless shrimpers to buy us beer when I was 13. My father and all my uncles spent summers as hands on boats, and one of them, the craziest of them, has spent most of his life on a boat, running from and just "running." He's down there now somewhere south, surfing and telling fish tales and going crazier every day.
So, inherently, I appreciate the inclination to go native, to go tropical. Which is why I was eager to review Lindi's Ideas, bland name and all. Because Lindi has done just that -- gone native -- and she's done it for a while now. And I admire that so very much. She's been all over, working on boats and scuba diving and teaching and, I imagine, having every kind of adventure. She's lost and found and has found herself in the Yucatan with a young Latin lover (I assume he's her lover; she doesn't quite say) and a house in Merida and a life of serenity and observation.
The template, like the name, leaves a lot to be desired. It's your standard blue blogger template. Blah. Flavorless. Soulless. Find something with flavor, something with a little kick. Linda, I know you don't know much about this whole blogging thing, but figure it out. Ask for help. Or go here.
There's no blogroll, or anything else for that matter, which does make it entirely uncluttered. But there's little in the design or in the "extras" to tell us who you are. And for some reason you contribute to your blog twice. How does that work?
The posts are loooong. Like this one, which I'm sure is interesting, but I can't be bothered because it goes on forever without paragraph breaks. Pick a topic and write about it. If the topic is expansive, narrow it down. Break it up. Especially if it's a "we went here and did this and here are the pictures" kind of post. Yawn. People won't care unless you make them care, and dragging on ad nauseum with no break isn't going to do it.
The writing is serene, almost formal. And it tends tends to plod. I wonder if it has to do with switching between English and Spanish (and Mayan!) in her day-to-day life. I have a friend who's lived in Korea for 10 years, and his English writing is now a bit... stilted. Without a voice.
The blog description uses the dreaded word "ramble," and it fits. There's no knowledge of where to end, of when enough is enough. I had a friend like this who couldn't for the life of her end a voicemail message. It's like she had no off switch. She didn't want to sit there rambling forever, awkwardly saying things like, "So, yeah, either call or whatever, you know? Um.... So. Did I say it's me? It is. And it's six o'clock. And we'll be here until whenever, so just, um... Yeah. Oh! Calamity says hi! And... um..." but she couldn't help herself. Hang up the phone already! Have a point! Even in your blog submission form, where you tell us about yourself, the form cut you off. I'm serious! You wrote so much the form said, nope, you're done, we're gonna stop you right there.
And when I say "have a point," I don't mean cat stuff. I like animals, too, mostly of the canine variety, but I don't know anyone who wants monthly updates on my furry friends. They wouldn't want updates if they were my actual children, either, so find something else. You're living in the dang-diddly Yucatan! There has got to be all sorts of junk to write about other than cats.
Linda, you are a fascinating, bold, and brave woman, who no doubt has reams of stories to tell... but you're not telling them. In your submission form you said, "I thought maybe I would sit my ass down to write every day instead of smokin too much dope and staring at teh computer..." Girl, do I ever know the feeling. Trust me, I'm all over that. You also say, "and although I know you will crucify me, fuck it, I am in the mood today. I must be a masochist because I have not shown my real self on that page, in fear of offending my family with my f..." (that's where the form said buh-bye). Awesome. You know there's a problem, you know you're muzzling yourself. And this is never a recipe for good blogging.
This is where it got interesting to me. The calm, peaceful, la-la-la of it all came crumbling down and we see some personality, some frustration, some life. Do more of this! Stop worrying if you offend people. This is the problem with non-anonymous blogs -- people get all wrapped up in what they're saying instead of just saying it. You have, I'm sure, lived one of the most interesting lives being blogged about, but we wouldn't know it because your posts are sanitized and travelogged and shuttered to hell and back. Take the ball gag out and give it back to Love Bites.
Also, in that bit up there from your submission form that I posted? There we get to see how you might talk, what you might sound like. It's more natural, less forced, less "I'm writing so I better write like I'm writing and take it seriously and inject it all with formality and all due decorum." Fuck that. Get real. Tell us the truth, tell us who you are, or don't bother.
Because I do absolutely find you fascinating, and because there's the potential for some great storytelling, I'm giving you
But if you don't step it up, if you don't start editing your writing so that it sounds like you and start telling us the good stuff and start revealing who you are and what you think and where you've been, well: you've been warned. Those flaming fingers singe something fierce.
P.S. Why not write the masterpiece on the blog instead of using the blog to escape from the masterpiece?
# Posted by Calamity.
on the site ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE
or http://iwillfuckingtearyouapart.blogspot.com
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Inspiration for the Holidays
Help for low self esteem. Inspiration. And unfortunately the truth. Be sure to hit the play button.
Monday, December 15, 2008
I'll Cut Off Your Balls!
When people have asked me how I would like to be reincarnated, if I had a choice, if there is reincarnation (I've always hated that question, by the way), my answers have usually been: #1. I'd like to come back a dolphin. A free range dolphin who lives in the open ocean, not as an unpaid, unwilling employee of a dolphin-molesting operation. I'd like to be the one of the dolphins that finds a sailboat in the middle of the ocean and rides its wake just for fun, for a while. And then decide to jump and spin. I'd want to find my own food. Relatively free of predators and the freedom to roam the world, this sounds like the ideal life to me. Or: #2. MY cat. A cat who would have not had a chance if not for suckers like me. I wouldn't mind being the cat of several of my cat loving friends; the point is, I don't want to come back an alley cat eating trash out of restaurant garbage cans and sleeping under cars. I would want my own human slave. Just like my cats have it.
A thought occurred to me today while I was poop scooping the two cat boxes as my feline owners looked on and occasionally supervised. There are some challenges involved with their little lives. I posted some of their learning experiences last month. However life continues to lead us all on a learning path. I can see some difficult times for the feline population around me.
One day I took photos of the cats sleeping away the afternoons as they regularly do. Those are the photos I posted here. That was when I was thinking how easy they have it. They poop. I scoop. They cry. I open a can of cat food or offer some fresher crunchies. (Or on occasion, saute up some delicious chicken innards.) They need affection, they plop themselves on my lap or laptop thus getting what they want exactly whenever they want it. Not a bad life.
Last week, Busmo and Mokito were playing brotherly rough outside. Mokito cried and ran into the house. There were a few drops of blood. I went to the scene of the fight and found a tooth. It looked like a bridge with two teeth, but he hasn't had dental work, so I guess it was just one of his baby teeth. It hurt though, I could tell, he put on his little sad face. He has this sad little old man face that tortures me. After a little while he forgot about the mouth pain and he was playing with Lorenza. I went outside to play with them. I forget I am a mammoth compared to them. When they tired of the game, Mokito left (or so I thought) and Lorenza stayed for some compulsory petting. I stood up and MMMEEEOOOW! Oops! I stepped on Mokito's hind leg. Nothing seemed broken. But that was over a week ago and he is still limping. (He is a good actor, so who really knows.) He has gotten better in the past couple of days because he 's started to play soccer with his Coke bottle cap again with Pablo.
A rough day for Mokito, I thought. Pablo and I went out for the day and we left the pool half empty. At the moment we returned from our adventure, in walked Mokito soaking wet, limping twice as much, having fallen YET AGAIN into the pool. He must have had to strugggle to get out with the water level so low. The humbling life of kittenhood.
Mokito.Yesterday I returned from the grocery store around 1:30pm. I unpacked most of the bags and got distracted putting perishables away. Then the cats spied the new food and cried for some. In half an hour or so I remembered the cases of holiday beer I had in the back of the car. I brought them in and closed up the car.
At 9pm Pablo went out to start the car so we could go out, and Moka dashed from inside the vehicle, scared shitless. She had been locked in there all that time. Luckily it was a cold cloudy day and the car sits in shaded covered parking. She tried to dig her way out but was stuck in there. She is still a little freaked today. If it had been a typical Mérida day............well. I don't even want to go there.
Moka.
The last cat issue is the "humane" thing we do: fixing our animals. When I moved in there were so many wild cats that seemed to live in this house I decided I would trap and fix them all. Cut off their balls, by God! I knew I would still have a problem with the territorial odor, but at least there would not be a dozen new kittens every month who might well end up starving to death or end up in my kitchen at feeding time. Perhaps the fighting would mellow some. Maybe Buster could have friends, being a neutered male, if I were to ever find him. These fixed boys are at the bottom of the totem pole of catdom. This area is a particularly rough area for cats. Inner city behavior, and lots of competition.
I trapped the cat we now call Cuate. The local humane society came with the trap, then picked him up, performed the surgery, gave him shots, and returned him. It cost me 350 pesos, or $35 US. I was ready to take on the commando. I trapped a second cat, the one we call Negro. When Hurricane Dean upset our daily routines, I had to let him go. Buster was found and my ball crunching crusade was called off.
So here's the point. Negro, Gemelo, Gris and Lorenzo...are the commandantes I am aware of that are NOT fixed. Therefore they are always fighting for top cat. Buster is bigger than the three of them so he manages to stay out of most fights. Plus, he is the food source. But Cuate has been getting his ass beat. Did I really do him a favor by cutting off his balls? Did I ruin his very existence? He is Buster's friend, and is invited for dinner often, but when I lean down to put food in the dish he ALWAYS hisses at me. I find his behavior completely understandable. I can practically hear the horrible things he calls me.
Fixing female cats seems to be okay. That is if it is okay with you to make the decision for another being whether they want to be mothers or not. But the bottom line with cats is that there are just too many and they multiply too often. So spaying really doesn't break my heart. I had my own self fixed, and it was the best thing I ever did. And I thought it was pretty big of me to let Moka have her litter and keep them all. And spay/neuter them all. It is fun to have a house full of perpetual kittens. But I was left wondering just how far we humans should go to mess with the natural flow of natural things. That's all. Just some cat thoughts. I am really trying to figure out how to write a children's book with all that I am learning from watching the cat behavior, but first I have to finish the other zillion projects on the list.
Sak Boox and Busmo.
Lorenza.
¡Que rico! Friday, December 12, 2008
The Spice Rack
The formerly brown stool is perfect for reaching the tall cupboards, and look how it coordinates with the fruit on the decorative wall tile!
This is the spice rack, painted and in place.
One Saturday a few weeks ago Mike came by and invited me to an open house at an antique furniture shop. They carry high ticket antiquities, showcase artists’ work, and carry some reasonably priced used furniture. They were providing botana…cheeses, imported salamis and prosciutto, olives, crackers, etc, and free wine.
Among the imported Peruvian planters, colonial furnishings, Guatemalan artwork, and local painters’ contributions, we located the less expensive section. I found a spice cabinet I liked. It was painted a drab mauve color but in good condition. It was less than $10 US. Next to it was a shoe shiner’s stool. It was less than $5.
I wanted to paint the items hunter green, like the kitchen doors. When I looked through the leftover paint on hand, there was no green. There was lots of salmon in various shades, so I decided I could start with that. After a few coats the drab cabinet came to life. I brought out my acrylic paints and painted a border of hunter green. It was sloppy so I painted some white splotches and dots along the edges. The center was inset so I painted that white. Pablo looked at it and said, “It needs some blue.” So I painted a blue stripe on the inset of the doors, finished it off with a little blue flowering using a fan brush, and voila! A new spice rack. I like it.
I painted the stool salmon and green. The colors in my kitchen are slate blue and white, with accents of hunter green. There are occasional decorative tiles with fruits that bring in the salmon, blue, and greens that were used throughout the room. I could have used the piece in its state of mauve, as the cherries on the tiles are a dull rose color. I like the new color scheme, however, it seems to brighten up the kitchen and tie it in to the dining room, which IS painted in salmon.
Among the imported Peruvian planters, colonial furnishings, Guatemalan artwork, and local painters’ contributions, we located the less expensive section. I found a spice cabinet I liked. It was painted a drab mauve color but in good condition. It was less than $10 US. Next to it was a shoe shiner’s stool. It was less than $5.
I wanted to paint the items hunter green, like the kitchen doors. When I looked through the leftover paint on hand, there was no green. There was lots of salmon in various shades, so I decided I could start with that. After a few coats the drab cabinet came to life. I brought out my acrylic paints and painted a border of hunter green. It was sloppy so I painted some white splotches and dots along the edges. The center was inset so I painted that white. Pablo looked at it and said, “It needs some blue.” So I painted a blue stripe on the inset of the doors, finished it off with a little blue flowering using a fan brush, and voila! A new spice rack. I like it.
I painted the stool salmon and green. The colors in my kitchen are slate blue and white, with accents of hunter green. There are occasional decorative tiles with fruits that bring in the salmon, blue, and greens that were used throughout the room. I could have used the piece in its state of mauve, as the cherries on the tiles are a dull rose color. I like the new color scheme, however, it seems to brighten up the kitchen and tie it in to the dining room, which IS painted in salmon.
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