You’re Either Very Smart . . . Or Incredibly Stupid

Fight, fight! It’s a slippery slope here on the mountain. Lots o’ rowdiness lately, as evidenced by this gecko-meets-scorpion encounter. We’ve shown this photo to numerous locals and expats, all of whom seem stunned . . . none realizing that geckos preyed on scorpions, or vice versa.

Our Internet is so lightening-fast that I’m reticent to utter aloud how thrilled we are. Baseball, streaming radio, YouTube. Fluke? Sun spots? Regardless, it makes for an easy Google search of gecko/scorpion lifestyles . . . and we all know that the Internet is authoritative. Who can say what was on this gecko’s (smart? stupid?) mind; but evidently what happened here is that the gecko thought it would eat the scorpion (maybe . . . perhaps), but foolishly underestimated the neuro-toxin of the scorpion, which paralyzed the gecko allowing the scorpion to feed at its leisure. 

I Am Jack's Complete Lack Of Surprise

Gar·ret/noun; a top-floor or attic room, especially a small dismal one, not to be confused with a penthouse, and traditionally inhabited by an artist.

Many moons ago I took a charming garret apartment in Paris, alone, for almost a month in late November/early-December. True, the apartment was only part of that particular European holiday. My friend Janet and I bailed on the husbands to spend an all-girl holiday that began in the Pyrenees, border-hopping back and forth from France into Spain. After a week I happily bid au revoir to Janet and headed to the Parisian, mine-only apartment, which was the real treat of the trip. I, alone, in Paris. It was going to be so à la turn-of-the-century artsy, even though I was on the Left Bank and nowhere near Montmartre. Still, there were damp yellow Chestnut leaves and corner bistros for morning croissants and coffee. At that time of year the smaller Left Bank streets of Paris were just beginning to offer trees, lights, and menorahs for the holiday season, and everything was bedecked with little lights. Did I mention that the entire country’s transportation system was on strike? La grève! No trains, no planes, no Metro, no taxis. Did I mention that it was cold and that I was on foot in my little Chanel hounds-tooth skirt and black tights?

Good God, Woman, Must Everything Be A Full-Scale Debate With You?

Golf clubs and Belding bags. Ship on pallets via boat? Pack? Sell? 

True, I haven’t played a full round of golf in ten years . . . but I could . . . I know how. The few holes that I played with my shared/adopted Daddy at Lago Vista didn’t count, other than to confirm that my swing was M.I.A. (though I could still occasionally wow ‘em with my driver). Still . . . don’t let this diminish my commitment to and love of the game.

Movie maven that I am, Medicine Man is an all-time favorite. True, perhaps it isn’t Oscar-worthy; but it’s got a jungle canopy, a river, and Sean Connery . . . and it’s difficult to find a bad John McTiernan film. Die Hard . . . Hunt for Red October . . . hello? 

I’d seen Medicine Man long before our first trip to Costa Rica, which helps us date the completely forgotten time-frame of our first visit decades ago. DVDs existed then (versus VHS) . . . an additional hint about the forgotten time-line. 

Our first experience on a zip-line came during our first holiday in Costa Rica. My first zip-line was when I learned that the phrase My knees are shaking wasn’t just a random idiom. Knees really can shake uncontrollably. Anyway, the very afternoon that we arrived back in DFW I ordered Medicine Man from Amazon. It was that zip-line thing. Honey, let’s please pay for overnight shipping. The DVD couldn’t arrive quickly enough.

This Is One Of Those Days That The Pages Of History Teach Us Are Best Spent Lying In Bed

Let’s talk hygiene and sanitation . . . again. What is it about physicians and Q-Tips®? Earlier this year I had an earache. The earache was very mild, but it was definitely more noticeable when a Q-Tip® was momentarily in my ear. I called my doctor and mentioned the Q-Tip®. What did he say? You know what he said. How have I managed to live all these years without puncturing an eardrum?

I pride myself on clean ears. In Samara the other day I saw an ear containing some debris. It wasn’t necessarily dirty, but I really wanted to hand over a Q-Tip® and say, why don’t you work a little harder on that? I mean, really . . . I didn’t need to see that.

War Is Too Important To Be Left To Politicians

I met my first gecko many moons ago when Rusty’s older brother rented a home on Kauai. I was still fairly girly then and was initially spooked by the dozens of little lizards on the property. But one quickly adjusts, and after a couple of weeks they were rather cute. Then came the incident in Ouagadougou with a gecko the size of a kitten. Truly, the lightening-fast creature was enormous. Picture a hotdog bun with legs and a tail. So to this day, after a gecko reaches a certain size (nowhere near kitten size – Ive never seen another that large), it is not my friend.