How quickly time fades; the edges blur; the world spins on. Costa Rica will elect a new president soon, and it seems just last week we were counting the votes that put Oscar Arias over the top.

I wonder what we do with time. Where does it all go? As I sat in the salon and watched as the man cut my hair, I noticed the lines on my face I didn’t remember having before. The bright lights made the circles darker under my eyes. Time didn’t pass me by these four years either.

As I drove home with my new hair style, a horn honked for the green flag party, scaring the heck out of me. I’d been singing out loud - to myself - and was in a place where time didn’t seem to exist. People stared. I suppose it wasn’t my dazzling doo, I am sure it is the way I looked as took up my song again and sang at the top of my lungs, regardless of what others thought of me as I did.

We’ll get a new president soon enough in Costa Rica, perhaps even a woman this time. And I’ll give a song another try, for anyone that will hear. And soon enough, another four years shall pass.

After drying off from white water rafting and cataloging those great photos of the howler monkeys spotted in the rain forest, it’s time to settle in. Adventure tends to become low on the list of “things-to-do” after a few years of living in a new land.

And one of the most challenging - and laughable - adventures I face every day is: What is the best way to mop? When I moved here, I actually had a premonition that I wouldn’t be able to find the mops I liked. When I’d unpacked my mop from the container, the maid looked at it as if it was a strange beast. Since she did most of the mopping, it got used seldom, rotted, and eventually thrown out. Oh, how I’d love to have it back again.

Mopping the floors in Costa Rica involves cut up rags with a hole in it. I perhaps will never figure out how to put the paño on correctly. As I swish the wet rag across the floor, the wooden mop handle scratches - a sound revealing my utter incompetence. This may all seam petty, but in a world where we live outside - even when we’re inside - the art of mopping up after ourselves becomes paramount in maintaining some semblance of peace (and cleanliness). Ants appear in an hour to tiny bits of food; cockroaches tend to die upside, over night and wait to be swept away in the morning, and a sticky film is sure to build after even just one meal. It’s a very important issue in our adventure filled life.

The women that have, and still do, clean for me have the mop issue down. I am always amazed and in awe. Their mops never scrape against the ceramic and after they’ve finished, they always leave behind a sparkling floor. When I’ve finished, it looks like I never mopped in the first place. Then, after the job is finished, the wet, sticky, smelly, dirty rag must be removed and washed. Even if the Costa Rican way of mopping is better, I will never, ever, get used or like touching that thing.

Those mops I like are available, but they cost an awful lot. And when a cut up rag can do the trick, maybe that’s been the way to go all along. I still have a quite a lot to learn about getting along in paradise.

Mañana mañana is the Latin term for yes, you’ll have it, but it will come tomorrow. Or perhaps the next day. Or the one after that. Every day I practice the saying, without even knowing it. As I wait for the bus, and my kids to get out of the bathroom, and for the check to come in the mail, I wonder when are ever not waiting?

A few days ago, Coco and I went to Pequeno Mundo as a diversion from waiting around and being “bored” as my daughter told me. We headed out to replace a mirror Addison had broken in the excitement of seeing his full-length reflection.

When we walked in to the barn-like store, I saw the lines stacked up at the check-out. “I hope those are gone by the time we’re ready to go.” Pequeno Mundo is the store that sells most things we can do without in life, but we convince ourselves we need them. Candles, cans of corn from Thailand, plastic bins that have misfitting lids, screwdrivers that really can’t hold their turn very well, and so on.

The lines were not gone when we were ready to leave. Trying not to get too picky, we strolled our cart to isle seven and began the wait. Then, after about ten minutes, the clerk disappeared. Then after another ten minutes, the clerk still remained missing. We were trapped. I looked up and down and every isle was packed. If we backed our cart up and started over again, inevitably the clerk would reappear, and we’d be waiting even longer in some other line. After another ten minutes, Coco said she was having fun though her legs hurt and she was hungry.

The woman who was checking out had a bad credit card or something. We never did get to the bottom of it. On the way home to get an ice cream, we got stuck behind a bus. And another one. Coco’s fun had ended back in the parking lot, and she whined about how long it was taking to get to the ice cream store.

I have a feeling all we ever really do is wait. We might as well all start practicing the patience of mañana mañana, goodness knows we all need it.

I know I’ve been living in Costa Rica an awful long time when:

• Cracking a coconut is part of my normal breakfast routine.
• Chocolate comes in a pod, not in a candy wrapper.
• Without orange, pink, purple, and yellow blooming trees, it just doesn’t feel like spring.

• My daughter has grown up enough to now correct me (often) on my Spanish.
• I chat with the ants as they over-take my bathroom every night.
• I almost can’t remember being anywhere else.
• It’s odd to think summer vacation for kids happens any other time than December and January.
• Yahoo Babel translator is my favorite web site.
• Beauty products no longer come from the grocery store, but instead from the garden.
• I no longer worry about getting a tan.

The chilly weather in the Central Valley of Costa Rica quickly turned hot. It is rare for the winds to fade in January. As the heat catches and brings on the summer months, everyone wonders what March and April will be like - our hottest months.

One day, as the sun set, I looked up and caught a glimpse of what should have been a shot in a movie. But then, I thought, maybe I am in a movie. Is it a good movie or just a B flick? Addison saw me from across the park and ran his wiggle walk to climb the jungle gym with me. I flipped off my sandals and scaled to the top. He joined me, reaching as high as he could go.

And that was it, a moment of bliss followed by falling down, tears, and being blamed for not bringing enough water or always wanting to leave too soon. I walked over to a swing set and stood as high as I could on the railing. The hot day had cooled into an hour of freshness. A smell that reminded me of being a kid, running around in shorts and no shoes in Minnesota. Sun rays beamed as if on cue.

My life, take 33201. On to the next scene. Let’s see if I can get it one shot.

In the “olden” days when pictures came to life in a dark room, we all had to guess the results. Waiting to get those photos back from the developer was like getting mini-Christmas presents. I’d wince all too often at the missed opportunities and the oh-so-many eyes that closed just as the button was clicked.

Now, I can’t get a photo off without my kids wanting to see the automatic result. So if they are doing something cute and adorable, I have to sneak it before they run towards me to see the reflection in the view finder.

Addison gets quite cross with me if I do not oblige. Often I take a picture to use it as “bait” - an offering to entice him to leave the playground peacefully so we can get home for lunch. When he sees my camera, he holds up his hands and makes a click sound. It usually works, he’ll forget a bit about the fun he’s had for the last few hours and saunter over to put his shoes on.

And I have to admit, the immediate results are wonderful to see. Plus who doesn’t like looking at a million shots of their kids? Or kittens? Or puppies?  Or……..

The lottery numbers flap and fly in the wind on almost every San Jose, Costa Rica corner. Feel lucky? Then soon you shall have a chance to cash in a few, thousands if only the right number is chose. The Costa Rican lottery doesn’t pay out millions, but enough to make someone’s day.

Men stand between the yellow lines, fanning pages of lucky numbers. Ladies in their lucky hats and sunglasses plant upon street corners, day after day, selling the promise of winning it all. The lottery tickets are neatly lined up in rows, held down by rocks and trinkets so the hopeful can see which number could be that lucky one.

Studies show that just about every person that wins those lottos - in the millions - is broke within the first year. Perhaps the Costa Rican lottery is different. We can win just a little bit of lady luck and still go on with our day, just as they have always managed to do.

Not a day goes by that I am reminded I could have done more. The pictures from Haiti bring such sadness, and we all must consider what more could have done - before.

So often we end up patching holes instead of putting down good foundation to begin with. As I’ve written before, running into the oppressed is a usual, daily passing. I struggle on pitching coins into hats or shoving my toll booth money into yet another metal can.

Maybe we can finally start closing the gap and making disasters near misses in place of the inevitable. Perhaps a toss of a coin or two would be just the thing to help.

As I drove around the Central Valley of Costa Rica doing errands - mandados - a huge sadness overwhelmed me. Driving does that to me. It makes me sad. It’s just too much time to think. And when a Bee Gee’s song from the past comes on, forget it. It won’t be long until the tears start to flow.

I’d receieved news earlier in the day that a mother I’d connected with in the hospital was pleading for prayers as her daughter’s recovery had hit a bump in the road. About to go home, the girl was back in surgery. I felt helpless and mad that I just couldn’t do more.

In a long line for a left turn, this man stood in an empty lot on a very busy street. He wasn’t singing for money or even attention. I assume he had a break at work and decided to practice his tunes in the only place he could have some space.

I have no idea why I smiled. And smiled some more. From where I sat, it looked as though he didn’t care what people thought or even how he sounded. He had a passion to sing.

I made my left turn and smiled for awhile, then worry returned about my friend, about my son, about money, about the wind, about what to make for dinner…….I decided to sing without the radio on and as I forgot the words and began to hum,  I nodded and understood exactly why this guy was so happy to sing in an empty lot on a rather windy day for all to see.

As the kids jumped around on a playground, a mist blew onto us as the wind whipped across the valley. A water fountain spit water into the air, only to have it whisked far away from it’s base. As Costa Rica approaches the meat of the dry season, it seems sad to watch the water we will all be fighting for in a few months, wasted.

I’ve guarded many liters in my garage for those inevitable days of water shortages. We usually get a schedule of days our water might be turned off. Then there are the days we don’t get warnings at all. It’s better to be prepared than to be caught with a sink full of dishes and toilets bubbling to the top.

The funny thing, without the water spitting gracefully up into the air and spilling down the sides, the whole dazzling effect doesn’t exist. The fountain looks like a big, slab of concrete, offering just a cool mist to a few toddlers in the distant park.