Waking up in the morning and feeling fresh often wears off after the morning shower. Even with the sunny Costa Rica mornings, life still keeps rolling. Children need raising, food needs fixing, and laundry washing.

So, I’m going to send off a video. Because I love to laugh and get as grumpy as the next gal. I do love bits American humor - especially when it’s edited into the funniest parts and I don’t have to watch the entire show.

I just had to laugh. I mean, this video really needs no other explanation. Because if we don’t laugh at ourselves, we”ll just end up old and grumpy. Paradise or no paradise.

Twice a day, Addison needs a therapy to jiggle his lungs. If someone were to walk in on us, it would look like I was beating up on the child. In a matter of forty minutes, he laughs his head off and then eventually cries and screams. But, we always start first with the laughs.

I always wondered what I do if I got one of those “things.” The big C. Or the heart attack; or the tumor; or the……..Well here we are. We got that THING. One of those dreaded words. Researching the underlying problem Addison has called pulmonary heart disease could throw me under a bus. My goodness reading the prognosis of this THING was more terrifying than jumping off a cliff into a gorge with a pack of wolves waiting for me. No one does well with this condition. It’s not curable; It’s a life long burden. Says who?

Then, I remembered I’d been through this before. After Addison’s surgery after birth, we discovered he had two cysts on his liver ducts. (And how did we live before Internet searches??!!) First I had to figure out what the heck the bile ducts were. These tiny cysts existed on two little tubes that drain the toxins the liver expels directly into the colon. I didn’t even know we had these parts were let alone that they could develop cysts. The doctors said: another surgery in four months. If we didn’t take them out, CANCER was guaranteed. There’s one of THOSE words again.

You’ll have to read about the whole account here, but in a nutshell, the cysts went away all by themselves. Perhaps I helped with diet. I have no idea what happened except that the doctor’s said they’d never in their life seen a case like this before. All cysts, they said, had to be removed surgically. Or they would become cancerous.

I do remember back then, in the time of cysts, we laughed a lot. Norman Cousins wrote a book called Anatomy of an Illness. This was a writer, peace advocate, and professor wrought with health issues. According to his write-up:

Cousins received the Albert Schweitzer Prize in 1990. He died of heart failure on November 30, 1990, having survived years longer than his doctors predicted: 10 years after his first heart attack, 16 years after his collagen (arthritic) illness, and 36 years after his doctors first diagnosed his heart disease.

I remember hearing about this book years and years ago. One of the main principles was that Cousin’s believed human emotions were the key to affecting health. He applied laughter as one of his main medicines. I applied nothing of this wisdom when I struggled through my surgeries and illnesses years ago. For some reason, though I hadn’t seen the book in years, the idea re-popped back into my head when “THAT D” word was mentioned in the hospital about Addison.

So before I begin the “beating on the chest therapy” I always start with a good laugh. Blowing on Addison’s round belly gets him going; then we move on to the ticklish crook of his neck; and round out the laughter with nuzzling my nose into his ribs. When he gets to that super silly part, I ask him to sit up and then ask: More? He nods and says more. And so it goes on.

We try to carry this philosophy of at least smiling, throughout the day. My brother is a pro at making goofy faces. A talent I learned from him. And I know I fail more than I succeed. I’m the first to snip at my daughter or swear when Addison’s diaper contents have just smeared all over my favorite pants and belt and shirt. Yet, I even managed to dance in the hospital to High-Five, about the only highlight of mine and Addison’s day. And it is contagious, for one day the nurse walked in and though conservative and timid in her laughter, she started singing and even did a little hand jive.

I am no longer falling off a cliff. Instead I live as though I am always free-falling through the air. I took the leap and now must walk the talk to stay afloat and not let the wolves get me in the end.

The photo above was taken a few months before we found out the cysts had disappeared.

Addison was about five months old.

Travelojos - new site dedicated to Latin American travel and expat living - has listed MotherJungle as one of the Costa Rican sites to follow. I like Steven’s site as it’s clean and crisp, and he seems to be posting quite regularly. (I think he also may know a lot more about me than traveling Latin America, but I’m not willing to admit that too readily.) From his “About Me” photo I can see he clearly enjoys the coconut - a subject near and dear to my heart.

What I really like is that Travelojos is out to bring us “newbies” at the Latin thing - whether the big move or just a trip - together to share ideas, comments, and information. My good friend over at Open Toe Shoes was also placed as a blog to watch. I’ve mentioned before the lovely artwork you can see at Open Toe. Plus Alison gives a nice perspective on life a bit more out in the campo than I could ever do since I live within a stones throw from so much shopping it’s amazing I just don’t spontaneously drop right in my own home.

I wish Travelojos a bunch of luck. We’ll keep following and hope they do the same.

Pura Vida.

Globalpost.com, a new website launched January 12, 2009, has added MotherJungle as a blog of notice - one that reprents the country in a “real” way. GlobalPost chose MotherJungle as one of “the “Top Global Bloggers” section of GlobalPost.com.

“After reviewing thousands of blogs worldwide, we have found yours to be one of the best blogs in your country (and, for that matter, in the world!). Your posts give readers a true sense of what life is really like there, not what some foreign news reporter might notice when he or she flies in, tapes a story, and flies out again. Your stuff is real. And we love it. (As my intern wrote about your site: ‘This is my favorite of the CR blogs… I think this woman is fabulous.’)”

Globalpost.com states it’s mission as one to change the landscape of international news coverage:

“GlobalPost is embarking on a bold journey to redefine international news for the digital age. To get there, we are relying on the enduring values of great journalism: integrity, accuracy, independence and powerful storytelling.”

I’ve checked out the site a few times and like the layout. You can click directly to a link that reports on the Americas or specifically Costa Rica. Alex Leff, the online editor at the Tico Times, runs the Costa Rican page. Besides one larger story there are small snippets of information that summarize recent happenings in Costa Rica.

At about 5:30 this morning, the bed shook from a small tremor. One big enough to pop my eyes open and wonder if there were more. We’re still getting shook up over those bits of earth shifting around deep below us.

It looks like MotherEarth and MotherJungle are shaking things up a bit. And though I hope it’s the last of those tremors for awhile, it’s only the beginning for me and my crew shaking up the world of motherhood, parenting, jungle foraging, and that all-important search for paradise. Being a single mother of two children - and one with special needs, I have the good fortune of broken ovens, laundry, speech therapy, and scraping off that “whatever it is” on the bottom of my refrigerator to keep me grounded, out of trouble, my ego in check, those elves a-crackin’ and far away from daydreaming too long about that “best-selling-book-turned-Academy-award-winning-film” I’ve yet to write (and the dress I’ll wear on the red carpet!).

Keep coming back my friends. We’re going to make it after all.

*I have to give a moments credit to the group of elves that help run,
spiff up, and maintain this site. Plus, if they’re not in a gnarly mood,
they even chip in on the dishes - though I still can’t get them to help
with the windows.

**I should mention I wrote the editor and he said that international blogs
can be seen on the HOME page, which lists the first five posts according to
when posted. The Costa Rica page then lists it’s bloggers. 

I just picked up a Christmas tree. By Costa Rica standards, I’m running late. But when they’re purchased so early, they always die! Last year when I scoffed at the price, the man said it was the last batch we’d ever see until next Christmas. Coco looked as she’d just seen the reindeer fall off a roof. This year, I got an even smaller tree at an even higher price. Sometimes I just don’t bring along the “haggler” in me. Sometimes with two small kids, I just shrug.

At least the tree was in a bucket of water. This I highly recommend because who knows how long they’ve been sitting on the side of the road waiting to be purchased. Young boys tied it on the roof of the car, and we proceeded to do a few errands.

Mami! I think the tree is falling off!

Sure enough, when we stopped at the bank, the tree had slid completely sideways. Since we were only 500 meters from home, I figured the tree would stay put long enough to go to the bank and stop at the Gelateria to get some Italian ice.

This Italian ice place has more flavors than Willy Wonka could imagine. Plus, it’s really, really good. I told Coco to keep an eye an on the tree in case fell off. Coco licked her double scoop of bubble gum as it drizzled on to her finger tips in the hot car. Over my right shoulder, I could see pine needles bouncing down from the roof.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

The power went out on my mini-DVD player while I sat in the car trying to finish the last of In The Wild. Coco was in her ballet class. I figured it was a good way to kill an hour.

I’d started the movie the other night, and got a 1/4 of the way through it. This is the only way I can watch movies with kids - a bit at a time. I watched about 35 minutes in the car, when the machine gave me a warning that I was about to loose power.

Even without kids, movie watching is a challenge. When I first moved here, seeing documentaries or anything slightly “non”-Hollywood was almost impossible. DVD shops began to spring up, when it was clear VHS was going by the wayside. But many of those DVDs turn out to be pirate copies. If they do work in your DVD player, then you have to decide if the quality bothers you.*

A few times I’ve rented a movie and could actually hear the audience chuckling in the background. If it is a “higher” quality pirate that has been recorded from machine to machine, I’ve excitedly sat down at the end of the film to watch those delicious extras I so love, and they won’t work. Lots of those copied DVDs skip, jump, and will freeze up. However, if this is your only choice to pop some popcorn and relax in front of a film, don’t hesitate. Most people I know get their movie fix this way.**

A few years ago between children, I had a bit more time to watch films. I got brave and tried NetFlix. What a great idea! Oh, the documentaries available made me drool. The first three arrived, and since we had no limit on when to return them, slipped them back in the mail to then wait for our next batch. Unfortunately, a few went missing. One arrived cracked. NetFilx is quite forgiving, but after too many un-returned videos, I can’t blame them for cutting me off.

Now, my choice is Video Centro. First the chain had a few locations, and it was very hard for me to drive to and return a film in one or two days. They have opened in many places throughout San José, and they say they rent only original films. And to this day, I’ve never had a film freeze up, and I always get to watch the extras. There selection is beginning to include more documentaries and independent films.***

I had to return Into the Wild in the morning. After two days of “pause” and “play” I was determined to see this film to the finish. (I didn’t know it was a true story, so imagine my surprise at the ending!) I gathered up all the wires, the min-DVD player and the case and trudged into the waiting area for parents. I plugged it in and watched another 30 minutes.

I finally finished the film at home and zipped out to the video store while on errands the next morning. When I handed the young man my videos, he told me I was at the wrong store. In a way, this was an odd bit of good news because it meant there was another store just down the way.

Our little Costa Rica is growing up.

*VHS tapes here get moldy. If you bring them, be ready to toss them when you see green
spores sprout atop the celluloid.

** Of course you can watch movies on cable. I have basic service and it’s, well, basic.
I suppose downloading will be the way to go, but I’m waiting for it to become a little less frustrating
to twiddle with the Internet - call me an optimist!

***Most adult English language films are in English with Spanish subtitles.
Children’s films in the theater are often dubbed in Spanish. On DVD, you usually have a
choice to watch in English or Spanish. 

A few nights ago, I went with a some friends to a place called, Big Mike’s. In the back streets of Escazu, that oh-so popular suburb of San José, we walked into a sparkly, romantic not-so-tiny hole in the wall that’s actually a house at the end of a cul-du-sac. The kind you come to love with twinkly Christmas lights that shine all-year-round.

Big Mike, Michael D. Forbes, was hosting an evening with Cate Montana. Cate was speaking on the topic of getting a better life. Heck, I’m in!

My friend and I were a bit hungry, so we sauntered over to our right and sat down in the cozy dining room. Big Mike greeted us and recommended the artichoke soup. “Fresh artichokes,” he told us. It didn’t take long to get the soup, and it didn’t take long for me to finish it. As a delightful bonus, he brought us a plate of grilled vegetables, which included roasted potatoes and carrots.

We toted the vegetable plate to a big room that seated about 50 people. Cate had worked on What the Bleep Do We Know and was speaking on that better life thing. According to her press release,

“Cate Montana is a writer and CEO of Global Intelligence Press, LLC. She is at the forefront of the information wave on quantum physics, consciousness and spirituality, working with such people as Deepak Chopra, Lynne McTaggart, (”The Intention Experiment”) and Gary Renard, (”Your Immortal Reality”.) She worked with the filmmakers of “What the Bleep Do We Know!?” for three years as editor and publisher of the film’s newsletter and as an international spokesperson for the film. A mainstream journalist for 20 years, she also has a MA in Humanistic Psychology. She is currently working with Bleep filmmaker Betsy Chasse on two movie projects, and is writing a book ‘The Power and Pitfalls of Personal Manifestation.’”

Cate was one in a series of speakers held at Big Mike’s called The Speaker’s Forum. Cate was witty and funny and full of insights. Though she’s worked in the field of consciousness awareness for many years, she confessed it was her first talk. We’d have never know. It was a delight.

Big Mike’s is a gather hub for the group of Gringos, like me, who want to read books, chat about movies, and dine on good food with good company. Big Mike and I had met one time, way back, when we both attended the premier of my friends Livia Linden and Percy Angress’s film: TropiX, a film made in Costa Rica. He said he appeared in the film about four times. With his adorable, gleaming face, and charming presence, I could see why.

Besides the restaurant and speakers, Big Mike’s caters, hosts other social events, offers a culinary school, and has rooms to rent. On top of that he seems to endlessly help other people out, including finding homes for dogs and cats.

It’s nice to know Big Mike is out there. When I feel like hearing a speaker, or renting a book, or munching on good food, or adopting a dog - wait forget that last one - I’m going to park at the end of the cul-du-sac and pay Big Mike a visit. I know I’m always welcome.

I’ve gotten out of the habit of reading a daily newspaper. There’s one reliable English language newspaper source in Costa Rica called the Tico Times, which comes out once a week on Fridays. On Saturday at the grocery store, I decided to flip through it to see if I wanted to spend the 600 colones (about a $1.20). The price has gotten a little steep, and with kids, I often end up using it for to hold flower clippings or to catch glitter on crafts without ever getting to the articles.

To my shock, amazement, and thrill there was an add for a theater production of Hamlet. Big deal. Been done, right? Millions of times shall we say? But in Costa Rica? In English! It was as if I was in third grade and someone had told me Bobby Sherman was signing his life-size, pull-out poster down at the corner drug store. I had to go. A few years ago, I saw King Leer by the same British company and was in heaven, regardless of how many characters ended up dead.

Target I miss, but theater I long for like my the smell of my high school sweetheart’s grandmother’s pegorie’s cooking in her oven. It’s something I don’t get enough of anymore.

There is a lot of theater in Costa Rica in Spanish. The problem is my Spanish isn’t good enough to understand the yearnings of Stella or the despair of Willy without getting a headache. I miss a lot when sentences wrap around emotions. And that’s kind of the whole point of theater: wrapping our emotions around language long enough to figure out a little piece of life. Or at least get a good laugh and not be with the kids for a few hours.

This Hamlet production was showing at the Eugiene O’Neil Theater a part of the North American Cultural Center in San Pedro. The center is subsidized by the U.S. It has an art gallery, library, language classes, and other performances in music and dance. I asked my daughter if she wanted to go and even though she’d never heard of the play, she said no because she’d be too scared. (How did she know there was a ghost when she knew nothing about the play?!)

I picked up my nanny (a fine date that, yes, does speak English) and drove through the rain through downtown and into back neighborhoods to land perfectly upon the Center’s front steps. A guy said he’d watch my car (one of the few car-parkers that put’s a price on parking is the theater and event guys - but still, it’s worth the $2.00 he charged). We got in line early and sat front row, center. I held up my camera to take a picture of the stage so Coco could see it, and a guy behind me said, “You’re not going to take pictures all through the performance are you?” I’m not a theater critic for the New Yorker and thought I’d dressed rather “theater-ish,” but I’ve been around enough to know not to take photos, leave my cell phone on, or crinkle little wrappers of candy during performances. Since brevity is the wit of the soul, I surprised myself at how quickly I turned around and told him of course not! I guess neither one of us thought the other too rude as we then had a cheery conversation on the troupe and the other performances they’d done. It took about ten minutes for my mind to sink into the language. Once there, it took everything in me to not slap my knee and chortle at the incredible brilliance of the play.

And yes, almost everyone ended up dead. I think it was a bit of a shock to my nanny. Since it’s one of the longest plays, I got home really late for a mom with a son that likes to get up between five and six. Hamlet could only bring on the most of interesting of dreams. I couldn’t wait to find out.

The rest is silence.

Under a pile of yet unpacked books from my trip to the States a few weeks ago, I found a SkyMall magazine. FREE COPY - TAKE IT. WE’LL REPLACE IT! So I did.

After Addison thoroughly looked over the safety flight brochure that hangs in the pouch on the back seat pocket of the plane, he’d slide it into the sleeve and pull out the SkyMall. He found the it thrilling, especially photos of dogs like the cute little Yorkie in a Cool Vest, which regulates the mutt’s body heat. (I thought that was what panting was for, but what do I know?) We’d flip further and find The Pet’s Observation Porthole. This is a round plastic window fitted into a fence so the dog can safely peer through the plastic at passerby’s. There’s the Coolaroo Dog Bed; the PupSTEP for the pet who needs a little help getting up on the furniture; or my favorite: the Hidden Litter Box. It’s a fake plant with a hole in the pot, which holds the kitty litter.

With its Tuscany handfinish, our new Hidden Litter Box looks like a real clay pot, complete with an attractive, artificial decorator plant. Simply turn the entrance to the wall and no one will know (if your cat doesn’t tell)!……A set of two provides decorative balance and your feline friend with both a cozy hideaway and concealed litter box.

Who doesn’t look at the SkyMall? What a perfect location to put a magazine of products we can live without but all fantasize about having: floating wireless speaker for the pool; digital camera swim mask; the world’s largest write-on mural map; and the Multi-functional Margaritaville and complimentary carrying case (shipped for free). And the joy! these things! can bring! to your life! Exclamation points abound to excite us about less germs! Cleaner floors! Colder draft beer right in your home! And easy access storage under the bed!

I can’t look at the SkyMall too long on the plane because I get motion sick even when the craft is not moving. Just the smell of the plane makes me sick. So, I flipped the pages for Addison and pointed out every animal I could to help pass the hour and one-half we sat on the tarmac. Though I can scoff at almost every item in the magazine, there’s the little shopper in me that would just love to have the Perfect Travel Partner or the Cargo Organizer that eliminates spills and clutter! in the car.

SkyMall has been a fixture in flying for as long as I’ve suffered through economy class. Though I’ll never pick up the phone and credit my card for an upside down tomato garden or the pool and pond remote display, I’ll look. Sending things to Costa Rica, though entirely possibly, is as annoying as airline travel. Even though there are laws on “what can be brought into the country; what is to be taxed or not, and how much I can recieve” - it always costs more. Besides shipping, there’s the random custom’s tax -impuesto de la aduana - tacked on by a guy I never see who’s decided through some ancient ritual akin to Tarut reading that my package should be charged whatever moves him that day. Better to live without it.

So, I’ll keep it in a pile and every once and awhile, I’ll peek through it again. It’s almost as satisfying as having that piping-hot mini doughnut maker - the Dough-Nu-Matic right in my kitchen. Almost.

When I first arrived in Costa Rica, there weren’t that many American chains. One restaurant, on the east end of San Jose, was a fake TGIF. It was really hard to tell the difference. They had the old, wooden canoes on the wall and the red and white stripes. I went in to eat their once. After a few years, I heard that the restaurant got in trouble for using the TGIF name. Now the real thing arrived on the west end of town. I go there about once a year, when I need a place on the way home and reliable.

We were celebrating my daughter’s gym show performance - a culmination of six months of practices for an afternoon of exhibitions. Addison wanted nothing to do with the dinner. He was still pissed off from not being able to eat the little chocolate heart the attendant at the gym handed out for all the family members. It the exact size of his windpipe. He carried this grudge into TGIF and promptly whipped all the crayons and cute little coloring page on the floor. Coco managed to hold him still for a moment for a photo.

I had a bowl of soup. My nanny couldn’t believe a piece of fish was $8.00. She’d pay half that for double the serving in her town. Ah, but we were in the big city, with the lights, the traffic and the fancy restaurants. We escaped with a tab of about $20.00. I suppose that’s not bad. The food was nothing to write home about, but my daughter got to clink her glass of ice tea in a toast and relish in her job well done. I suppose we’ll end up here again in six months, as I admit a chain restaurant serves it’s purpose once a year. Maybe my son will walk right through the front doors and Coco will have mastered that front roll on the parallel beam. But I bet Addison will stay throw his crayons on the floor, and it won’t get any cheaper.