Monthly Archives: December 2007

Let’s see how far we’ve come.


2007 started out shaky.  I spent the New Year’s holiday moving for the second time that year.  I was living with a man who was emotionally retreating farther and farther away from me with no explanation, a fact I was so ashamed of that I only let my pillow catch me crying. 

I gritted my teeth, and with more hope than confidence I declared 2007 my bitch.

Mid-March, when I met someone who changed the course of my entire life.  Someone who’s face I recognized from a reoccuring dream that started when I was five years old.  Someone I had always wanted so badly to exist, but had ceased to believe in.  Someone who in two minutes of conversation made me feel exactly like this.


Someone who felt the same way about me.

And perhaps because they would have come anyway, or perhaps because Love and Luck are kissing cousins, all these beautiful things started coming my way.

I started going places, seeing things and meeting lovely people.  2007 was a whirl of dancing and travel and music and flowers and even a box of what appeared to be chocolates but turned out to be cherry tomatoes instead, just like I always wanted.  And while I’m not out of debt, I feel proactive and in control of my finances and ultimately that’s far more valuable.  I still get calls from the bank, but I don’t duck them now.  They LIKE me.

I started a project, The Project, and delivered it with a card that read – “There’s an old legend that anyone who folds a thousand cranes earns one wish.  I’m not sure if that works with pigs too, or if it’s even true at all, but ultimatly, it doesn’t matter, because even if the whole world ran out of magic, I’d MAKE pigs fly for you.”

And my magic was good and strong.  I’ve achieved the impossible, defied gravity, seen into the future and found out how you can KNOW that it’s going to be happily ever after.

2007 was my sugar daddy, and 2008 is going to be my gorgeous naked lover.

Perhaps I could get into a research study or something.


Valancy Jane – “Do you suppose it’s a side effect of either my illness or the meds that I can’t stop listening to Love Train by the O’Jays?”

Salesguy J – “I think it’s it’s own illness.”

Valancy Jane – *turns up the volume*

*rocks out*

Salesguy J – “That needs meds.”

Due to a misunderstanding (and let’s just say it wasn’t MY fault) ….


…. About whether it was me or my neighbors who were moving, I arrived home on Sat. after three, THREE flight delays, sicksicksick, to a lack of running water.  I was so upset I cried.

But apparently when I said it was better to be sick on vacation because at home I’d be alone, I seriously underestimated my friends.

Thank you guys.  Sososooooooooo much.

People say it sucks to get sick on vacation.


But hey, if I was home Rose wouldn’t be here to make sympathetic noises, and Little Nick wouldn’t be here to make midnight runs to the vending machine for hard candy to soothe my throat and D the waitress wouldn’t be here to open the palapa’s kitchen just to make me some tortilla soup.

So really, it’s not such an awful place to be sick.

It’s just an ordinary flu, so don’t worry too much.  I caught it from A, the girl behind the front desk.  Although her pregnancy, I had nothing to do with THAT.

A Christmas Story


Last night was supposed to be karaoke night at the palapa. Turns out our karaoke guy disappeared and even though O the restaurant manager drove to his house for me, he wasn’t to be found. So no karaoke.

But the night did end up having a lot of mumbling along to songs we’d didn’t really know.

As it turns out, that elderly man who was my main competition for this computer here in the lobby (my iphone isn’t getting along with the wifi here, I suspect they had a falling out a few years ago over a girl) is a little German priest named Wolfred.

Now I feel bad for kinda hovering, I mean, who knows who he was emailing?



Hail Mary,

Can you do something for this internet addict pacing behind me? She’s jonsing bad. Smote her, heal her, I don’t care, I can’t handle the whimpering.

Although as it turns out, he was very nice.

He came down to the palapa (a grass hut restaurant here at the resort) as we were eating out Christmas Eve dinner last night, but all the tables were taken. They were about to seat him outside in the cold, so we invited him over, and then noticed his clerical collar.

He’s spends most of his time in Colombia but was here in San Carlos to preach the Christmas Eve sermon at the local Catholic church. His humor is scarce but wry and unexpected. When I ordered a glass of wine and Rose ordered water, he leaned toward Rose and said, “Better get the wine. I haven’t mastered the trick of turning water in wine. Yet.”

Nick and I shared a cab with him into the town to attend Mass.

Since Nick understood slightly less Spanish than I, and no Churchese at all, I translated as best I could through the songs and readings, and the Father sweetly preached both in English and Spanish, for our benefit.

Most of it was very familiar, similar to the Masses I’d attended back home, except for one thing than kinda threw Little Nick and I for a loop. Towards the end of the service, a few women came up and removed the baby Jesus’ from the various natavity scences and held them as if they were real babies. I don’t mean they held them respectfully, I mean they tickled the feet and blew raspberries on the bellies and cooed at them.

Then they brought them back and passed them around, down each pew, every person holding it for a few moments, with the conviction of little girls playing with their dolls and the inate baby-handling skills of great-grandmothers. As it drew closer to me, I really wasn’t sure what to do, how to participate in this odd little act. I wanted to be respectful of the gesture, but it’s a DOLL. The whole thing reeked of idol worship to me, and we all know that there is but one mediator between man and God, and that’s Gwyneth Paltrow.

So I held it for a few moments, studied it’s eyes, then held it up to my face letting it’s hand touch my face. This seemed to pass inspection.

And as Baby Jesus made his way around the rest of congregation (which took FOREVER) I thought about it, and realized that the symbolism, the idea that God comes in a form that is miraclous, innocent, yet earthly, and very dependant on us to tend it, that peace on earth was something we would all have to create and then care for, well then this was a Jesus I know I’ve always believed in.

I feel as though I’ve stumbled into a sitcom.


And that I’m the guest star among a cast of regulars. Or that perhaps we’re in some turn of the century English play.

You see, the place is pretty deserted, so we’ve all gotten to know the staff around here pretty well.

There’s A, behind the front desk, who sings opera when she thinks no one is listening, and watches them on tv when she thinks no on sees.

There’s O the restaurant manager, who plays chess with Little Nick, and who’s english suddenly gets worse whenever Rose enters because I think he’s got it bad for her, and is intimidated at the same time.

D, the waitress, and L, the waiter, who both seem a bit mysified by how little we’ve drank.

And V, the ceramic artist/official salesman of trinkets for the resort, who despite is rather good english and my quickly improving spanish (funny how much you improve when there is no one but staff to talk to) still can’t seem to piece together how Little Nick and I are, or I suppose aren’t, related.

Tell me you wouldn’t turn into this.