Late Bloomer

I may have mentioned before that here in Dominica I get bitten by a lot of mosquitoes.

"Would you say I have a plethora of mosquito bites?"
"Yes, Jefe, I would say you have a plethora of mosquito bites."

Smiles all around.

Except that no one smiles, because mosquito bites suck.

I often complain (in a very sweet and endearing manner, of course) that it isn't fair that Wonderman never gets bitten. Every once in a while he shows me a bite that itches for a few hours and tries to say that I'm not alone. I never buy it. My suffering is always worse. It's a given. Or so I thought. On Christmas Eve, we went to the beach for a bonfire with friends. It was delightful. Especially since as an added bonus, the waves were about 75 times bigger than normal, so it was excitingly violent as the sea crashed on the shore. I only wish I had pictures. The only downside to the trip to the beach was the horrible little bugs that looked suprisingly like mosquitoes, but seemed immune to the bug repellant I had, with great foresight, applied to my feet and legs. On coming home, I began to pity myself, as I had lumpy red itchiness all over my little (relatively speaking) feet. I even continued the pitying of me for a couple days. Somehow it either took a while to develop, or I am such a lame wife that somehow I didn't notice this on my lover's legs:
I'd like to think that they took a few days to develop, because it makes me look less lame. Either way, I've tried to curb my complaints. Poor Wonderman. The itching even woke him up in the night.

Conclusion: Bonfires on the beach are awesome, but full coverage may be necessary to combat the evils that accompany dusk.

Fry Twice, Add Bacon

Sounds healthily delicious, right? Tonight we made Mofongo. It's a dish we tried in Puerto Rico and both loved, so it seemed the natural choice when Owen gave us a lot (and I mean a lot) of plantains.

It was a little labor intensive and didn't turn out perfect, but we will definitely try again (please note our awesome use of the LED lantern; our fluorescent light is flickering to the point that I'm sure it will cause an epileptic seizure soon, and there's no chance of buying one until tomorrow, although we're moving in just a couple days [have I told you that? I'm so excited], and I'm not sure it's worth the expense).

To do better next time: 1 - yellow plantains are too sweet, use green; 2 - raw garlic in large quantities is too strong, use less and cook it first somehow; 3 - bacon is only necessary if the mofongo is going to be the main dish, when eaten with chicken it's a little too much; 4 - it's worth using 27 paper towels per plantain slice, if that's what it takes to drain the oil off them after frying.
Conclusion: Trying new things is always an adventure, but there is much to be said for experience, which only comes from trying again. And again. And again (ah, that New's Year's resolution list looks like it's going to have to include exercise).

Counting Blessings

It's not quite the same, but today I was really grateful for this eggnog flavored drink. It filled a need and made me feel a little closer to Christmas. Next year, I'm going ALL OUT on the eggnog. All out, I tell you.

He DID Listen

Merry Christmas to me!


I swear, underneath that stoney exterior is a man who really wanted a blender. Swear!

Wonderman Just Gets Better With Age

Having a birthday right before Christmas comes with its challenges, but we try to make Wonderman's day special. This year it was even more low-key than normal, though. Can you see how excited he is?



The first three are evidence of Wonderman being silly, but I think I may have caught a genuine smile in the fourth photo (a Christmas miracle in and of itself).

Happy Birthday to the most wonderful man I have ever met.

Conclusion: He's definitely the best. I'm pretty lucky.

'Tis the Season

Let's get this straight before we even begin: I am not a Scrooge. I love Christmas like you can't believe. I spent years counting down the days until Christmas, starting on December 26 (Ok, so part of that was probably because it became a cool trademark, like a party trick: my friends would always ask me how many days until Christmas and, no matter what day of the year it was, I KNEW. Still, it started because of the love.). It has always been a magical time of which I adored being a part (Did you catch the awkward and non-colloquial sentence construction? That's what I get for proof-reading my posts and for knowing that ending a sentence with a preposition is wrong. Ugh, so annoying. Ignorance really is bliss.).

However, the past couple of years have been a teensy bit less . . . magical. There are a number of factors that contribute, the most significant one being heat. Neither Arizona nor Dominica lends itself much to the fabled ideal of the white Christmas that I am accustomed to. Maybe it's also partially because they are Christmases with only Wonderman, whom I adore, but I am more used to parental units and siblings and shared understanding of tradition. It may also be connected to the lack of space in our living arrangements (ok, and this year it's also the lack of availability), which has lead to the significant absence of a Christmas tree in our home. Or maybe it's the gifts that we are not buying, for each other or anyone else (again with the money and available gift supply being minimal [not that there are none, just that they are few - do you think Wonderman realizes the significance of the huge hint I gave him yesterday as I showed him a hand bag that I would REALLY like to have and told him it would be a good present? If not, I sure hope it will still be there in a week]).

All explanations aside, I must say - I know Christmas is coming and I am excited, but it also sort of feels like just another day. Meh. I definitely wasn't feeling the furor of the holiday spirit. Until last night.

I work with a few other women in our church teaching an English class to mostly Haitian immigrants. It's been a good experience and I've learned stuff and usually only grumble a little bit when I have to leave Wonderman at home alone while I go off galavanting about and teaching English. Last night we had a Christmas party with pizza and cookies, definitely festive fare. Everyone was sitting around, munching quietly, and I felt a distinct lack of celebration. Then we decided to sing some Christmas carols. We got out the hymn books and all sang in English "Joy to the World" and "Silent Night." I tell you what, I have never heard "Silent Night" sung quite so boisterously in perhaps all my life, but the Christmas spirit that it brought swelled up around me so that I couldn't help but get a little vehclemt. I loved it. Now it feels like Christmas, despite all the setbacks.

Conclusion: All those heartwarming stories about people from different nations and cultures finding commonground at Christmas time, specifically while singing "Silent Night," must be true.

Exotic Fruits

This is what I had the other day for breakfast:


It was delicious. And it made me feel like I was living on a Caribbean island. I guess that counts as being very grounding, right, since I do, in fact live on a Caribbean island? The coolest part is, I gathered the starfruit and mango myself. The coconut was an entirely different challenge which led me to the conclusion that my life will simply be easier if I accept my own weaknesses and pay a man with a machete to help me access fresh coconut.

Back to the starfruit (Um how cool is it that there is a fruit that naturally grows in the shape of a star? I don't know that I would've ever believed it if I hadn't seen it and eaten it repeatedly. Not sure why the eating increases the believing, it just does.). I had tried it once before and found it tart to the point of being inedible. I had similar negative experiences with a few other of the native fruits here. I felt so sad, thinking that I was here in this incredible place, with no desire to take advantage of the deliciousness. Then Sharleen showed me where the starfruit tree was on campus and how to judge its ripeness. And then she showed me where the mango tree was on campus and how the ripe ones just drop off the tree and you can find them on the ground. I love mango season.

Conclusion: This place is beautiful. I think I could live here.