I have a busy work week and am traveling soon but after that we will return to Mexico. How many shades of blue can you see in the photograph? The blue green of the Caribbean is so lovely contrasted against the blue sky. This is the pier at Celestun, Mexico on a windy but warm day. There is no one on the beach behind me – a little piece of heaven. Despite my last post, my mood is not blue just reflective.
Her bed was an object of degradation. It reeked of alcohol and sweat. Too drunk to make it the bathroom, the bed was stained with urine. Sometimes it smelled of sex and the repugnant odor of her boyfriend. He hated my looks of disgust and barbed comments. It was all too easy for him to look past the sad eyes of a 15 year old girl whose life was falling apart. Mental illness and self-medication had turned her home into a hovel. There was no safe haven.
She had transmogrified from a caring, beautiful, working single mother into a burden for the only person she always loved – me. We went from fairy stories about my missing Prince of a father – handsome but troubled – to the drunken ravings of a mad woman. What made it worse is the ravings were true. My father had asked her to abort the unwanted fetus, me, and if she hadn’t had me her life may have been so much better.
My heart broke into crystalline pieces like a shattered fairy castle. The truth was there and I just chose not to see it. Perhaps I never needed to know all the intimate details of how my father betrayed us. One revelation was that an American relative wanted to adopt me but my mother refused to consider such a possibility. I longed for Aunt Jackie to rescue me but by this stage we were no longer in contact.
Sometimes I reacted with kindness to my mother’s sad life but mostly I became remote with sarcastic comments. After a neighbor asked me to take her home, she was drunk and incapable of walking the few hundred yards, I shoved her into the wall of the house in frustration. She just sobbed and asked me to forgive her. I could not.
In anger I looked at the bed and tore the filthy bedding from it. I recoiled when I realized that it was soaked in urine. Lifting up the mattress to see if it was as bad on the other side, I saw that she had torn open the lining of the bottom divan and it was filled with dozens of mostly empty bottles of whisky. My temper flared and I started pouring the remaining whisky down the bathroom sink to the sound of her plaintive sobbing. She knew that I had been checking to see how many bottles she was drinking. At her worst it was a bottle of whisky a day.
Post script – every word of this is true and I wish I could have understood more but I was only 15 years old. My mother remained mentally ill but became sober until she died aged 69. I loved her until the day she died.
I was in the discount section of the supermarket and I saw reduced hair color. Although it said it was light neutral blonde, it went Cersei red, previously known as strawberry blonde. That provoked me to be unfaithful to my current hairdresser and try someone new. For the husbands – this is an insight into the convoluted thinking of women.
My hair is really difficult to cut but I think she made a good job of my elfin request. Two days later and it doesn’t really look that good anymore… It really needs some product to fluff and separate it. It is rodeo week in Houston so I dressed like a typical Texan cowgirl – the top is covered in sparkles, y’alls!
Happy Spring! 💐💐
I decided to create my blog on WordPress because I thought there might be less negativity than other forms of social media. For the most part it has been a perfect way to express myself in words and pictures. Twice in two weeks, however, I have received comments that were both negative and unpleasant. The first time I decided to call out the racist, Racists come in every color, but the second comment I deleted. Despite my initial common sense reaction, deep down I felt hurt, low and discouraged.
Many times I have sympathized with fellow bloggers, truly hurt, when someone has made a nasty comment. Why do people do this? It is a free press but kindness and etiquette should still come first even if you vociferously disagree with another post. Occasionally I sigh when a new follower has very different political view or set of morals but I can still appreciate them.
This particular comment was in response referred to my post Courtship by an Angel which was very quickly followed by My True Valentine – a testament of my love for my husband. You can read the post about Angel but here is a quick summary: On my recent trip to Mexico I hired a local driver, about 37, married with children. At the end of our time together, he started complimenting me and indicated that he might like to cheat with me. NOTHING HAPPENED nor did I do anything to encourage him. I was utterly complimented by a much younger man desiring me.
The comment was from a regular follower (no longer I assume) and I suppose that’s why it is so upsetting.
“This is so sad and the ‘delighted giggles’ at a man willing to cheat (on his wife and children) is part of the problem and only encourages men to overstep the mark. I pray all women gain a high sense of self- esteem and not rely on compliments by anyone else to boost them. Yes, it is nice to be healthfully complimented but seriously, ladies, wise up to the deviance”
My self-esteem is low; mental illness gives me a strange form of body dysmorphia and a general insecurity about anyone liking me. As for flirting or, more accurately, being engaging – I do it with everyone and every species. Babies, old ladies, cats, dogs – they are all prey to me charming them into submission. If only it was truly that easy to have self-esteem and not rely on compliments… I suspect I hit a nerve and I truly sympathize with anyone who has been profoundly hurt with infidelity. It is not deviant behavior, though, just human.
My personal experience is that there are much worse things that can happen to a relationship. My father mentally abused my mother and abandoned both of us. As humans we find it hard to be with just one partner or the divorce rate would be lower. None of those statements, or my flirting, indicate that I endorse cheating in relationships or life. Forgiveness is a wonderful quality and I wish I were better at it. I feel that some of my followers read my blog about churches but neglect to see older posts that talk very openly about sexuality. For any new followers – I am a left wing liberal who loathes our President, guns and a stupid wall. Ironically, I can no longer have physical sexual intercourse because of a rare medical condition (which I will talk openly about in a future blog). It struck me that some of my sadness and longing for a ‘normal’ sexual life might be emanating from me like a beacon.
Let’s lighten this blog up! I was chatted up by a handsome young man in a foreign country with a different culture. For all I know my open personality and solo traveling was a signal that I might be available. The one wise thing I did was not to make him feel bad when I was alone with a strange man in the back of beyond. But as for charming…it continues. I have two older admirers in the produce department of my local supermarket. One is Hispanic and he likes that I thank him in Spanish. The other is Southern and loves my accent. Last week they were subtly fighting for my attention. Southern Gentleman, with some teeth missing, won the battle and we started chatting. I laughingly said, “I can’t be the only lady with a foreign accent in here”. He deftly responded, “But you are unique…” I walked off with a spring in my step and as far as I know neither of them intend to leave their wives for me. It would be a waste of time because my preference is a full set of teeth and a tad younger. 🐆
I always loved the names for groups of animals but the real name for a group of bats is a cauldron of bats. That is just superstitious nonsense – look at those cute little furry faces! I think there is at least three of them – a mama and two babies, perhaps. On my very first internship at Chester Zoo in England, I helped edit the zoo magazine which pictured a Dominican Republic fruit bat which the zoo had saved from the edge of extinction. Fruit bats are terribly important to our ecosystem. Their guano or poop fertilizes both the soil and the fruit trees. What would we do without our guavas or bananas or fruit bats?
Just as I was leaving Jaltun Parque near Celestún in the Yucatan Peninsula, Mexico, my guide, Senor Ortega, pointed out the fruit bats nestled in the palm tree. I tried so hard to get a great photograph but this was the best I could process. When we lived in Cairo, we were woken up by a strange thumping in the back garden. All we could see in the dark were fallen guavas but then we made out the faint outline of fruit bats knocking the guavas out of the tree and picking them off the ground. When we lived in our first bought house on an estuary in North Wales, my mum’s cat Tibby came to visit and was terrified by the strange ‘birds’ that flew right at her with their radar. We have bats in our back yard but go to bed too early to see them…sleepy Teddy and Bunny.
The park also had some orchids
The spiny tailed iguana pictured in the last blog lives in hollowed out logs.
This is a slightly better shot of my pensive heron with the terracotta water below. Celestún is an isthmus and just before you reach the beach area you cross over the first body of water. It looked so tranquil.
Angel, my driver in Merida, was intuitive about what I was enjoying. I got very animated about nature ‘naturalis’ and he suggested that we go to Celestun the day after visiting Mayapan and Dzibiltchaltun archeological sites. Celestun is famous for its large flocks of pink flamingos that live on what is now a nature reserve. It is a small beach town situated on an isthmus in the Gulf of Mexico, right around the corner from the Caribbean. The night before I excitedly googled the area and was concerned about the small boats that take you out to see the flamingos (fear of water in small boats). Additionally, some of the articles mentioned that the influx of tourists was affecting where the flamingos nested. They keep moving further away from humans. I knew the beach would be magnificent but noted that there was a small Nature Park, Jaltun Parque Recreativo, just before the town.
Angel looked at me quizzically, as he had never gone there before, but followed his GPS and we arrived at a scrubby bit of jungle. I looked at it uncertainly not knowing that this was going to be the cherry on the cake in Mexico. No one spoke English but the gentleman who guided me had his wildlife book in both Spanish and English. We excitedly chatted and I discovered that he was an Ortega – my cousin! It takes me a while to get my eye in, when hunting for critters, but my guide was an expert. He could identify every bird song, every tree and all the critters. It’s amazing how you don’t really need a common language when you are in tune with nature. I perfectly understood that he was telling me about the wonders of nature – one tree, very close to another, was very toxic but the other provided the antidote. Most of the animals were in the jungle but there were a few in small caged areas.
One of them was the Yucatan spiny tailed iguana. I asked Senor Ortega if I could hold it and he explained,with concern, that they were very fast and I would have to hold it firmly behind the neck. As an expert lizard catcher, I eagerly held out my hands. It was a chilly winter morning in Celestun and the poor wee thing was cold. I snuggled it into my sweater for warmth, delighting in the opportunity to be up close to an indigenous critter.
My guide was delighted at my derring-do and we walked into the jungle where he heard a carpenter woodpecker. We tracked it down and he was more excited than me! I knew my camera wasn’t up to a good shot because the woodpecker wouldn’t stop tapping but patiently waited for my guide to get just the right shot! He was terribly impressed by my ability to track quietly and see birds. Ah, that native DNA comes in handy at times…
This is a shot of a Morelet Crocadillo just gently basking in the stream. I have seen many alligators and crocodiles but that might have been my only opportunity to see this particular crocodile that is found only in Central America. Just call me Crocodile Kerry…
A special treat was to pop my head inside the boa’s enclosure and take a shot while they were both hissing at me. When I got back to the car, tired and happy, Angel looked horrified at my shots of serpientes and shuddered! Off we drove, along the road into Celestun. It struck me afterwards that I had been cuddling all sorts of critters and it didn’t even cross my mind to wash my hands. This might be why I got a parasite in Egypt.
More shots to follow of the Yucatan jungle
I am sorry for the blurry quality of the photograph but I was laughing so much… Despite my amorous adventure in Mexico, Courtship by an Angel…, there is only one true soul-mate for me. Teddy!!!! We both forgot about Valentine’s Day this year and he is currently on vacation in California. Yes, it really is a new brush for Teddy wrapped in pink chiffon. Many years ago Teddy made a terrible mistake and bought me a peg-bag (for hanging up washing) and a kitchen clock for Christmas. I have always wanted to get my revenge and this week I did. We really did need a new brush and Teddy mostly uses it to carefully clean up our utility room every morning at 5 am. He scoops out the litter boxes, feeds Toffee and gives her medicine. Now that is a true Valentine.
When he saw it propped in the garage, he burst out laughing, as did I, and I think that is our recipe for success. He is romantic and silly and still looks damn good naked. I was very shallow when I met him and fell for his six-pack and blonde hair. After 35 years together we have had the most romantic vacations such as falling into a bed of roses in Istanbul, getting very frisky in a mirrored room in the Hard Rock Hotel in Palm Springs but we have also helped give enemas and removed zits from awkward places. Teddy most amuses me when he wanders around the bedroom with just a t-shirt on with his appendages sticking out the bottom. His bottom looks amazing for his age and I like to squeeze it.
As I told Angel, my husband is really very romantic, much more so than me. We love snuggling and spooning. Some sexual intimacy has faded but our erotic intimacy has not. Life changes with each decade. We play a little game each night called hand sex where we pretend our hands are having sex. Recently he initiated this in a restaurant and I was mortified. No one could possibly know what we were doing but it has become our secret pleasure.
We go out for brunch every Saturday and he holds hands across the table, looking into my eyes, sometimes whispering that I am beautiful or my eyes are so blue. We still occasionally dance in the kitchen or he has a quick feel of my boobs or bottom which results in a playful slap. Mostly I say, “Don’t touch what you can’t afford” and go running through the house to escape his clutches. What touches me the most is when I remind him of my mother; I had a complicated history with an alcoholic mentally ill parent. Teddy could see through all of that to the vulnerable, naïve, beautiful soul that was hers.
BUNNY LOVES TEDDY to Pluto and back!