The Place To Be

When you’re down hearted, feeling low, at the end of your rope this is where you want to be, you CAN trust me on this one, I know.



Hammocks hanging from the Palm trees and sea grapes that frame my view of the Caribbean Sea, with surf sounds ranging from soothing to almost scary at times is a scene that makes anything better.

Friendly dogs,Lili and Paco, the cutest pair of brown Bassett and heaven only knows, follow grounds keeper Willy as he primps and tidies, they chase under the hammocks and around the palms, the happiest k9 kids ever despite both having injured rears.


Pelicans looking like jets in formation patrol the shallow water, then soar to plummet height to dive into breakfast, now, this is mornings entertainment.


Honestly the little lizards doing pushups and inflating their throats is a good opening act for my first cup of coffee. If the well tanned young men are bobbing in the surf waiting for the right wave at the same time, my life is complete.


Last night we celebrated my hubby’s birthday at Musafa’s (Carr. #3 Maunabo) karaoke night party with people singing their hearts out was a ton of fun, especially when this thin man with very erect posture in khaki pants, a blue sleeveless tee shirt and a white hard hat strode into the room; with a flair he took off the hard hat, grabbed the micro phone, belted out a song, put his hard hat and with posture just as erect as ever strode back out the way he came in. Bravo birthday night success.


My appetite returned at Paisajes Curet also on Carr. #3 Maunabo where we could see the light house as we enjoyed a rice, crab and beans dish with tostones or plantain chips. The word is out on their cooking- fresh!


A large dose of the beauty of nature, friendly places and if I’m still hanging by a rope; I’ll deal with it on Monday.

Needed: A Perfect Day in Paradise

Ever wonder what the end of your rope really looks like? What is the limit, if it doesn’t kill you?



Who wants to hear the endless chatter of what lead to the point? After my first cruelty raid or day of the dead, diseased and dying dogs, when I upchucked the medicine prescribed to prevent me from getting Leptospirosa, I kinda knew I was there.


To tell you the truth after my old friend, Stormy, the smartest Sato ever, died in the street, hit by a car; I wasn’t too sure I wanted to be here seeing him on my veranda or hearing his distinctive barks.


Because of Stormy, I fell in love with mutts, after a life time in pure bred dogs. I fell in love with the island and the people; this place has unique flavor.


As we wait for the closing on our property in Illinois, my mind is becoming focused on what I can do to help the island dogs of Puerto Rico. The raid was a pivot point in my thinking.


While all this manure is happening, my husband, Kirt, is having a big birthday, well, next year is the decade changer, those are always big birthdays, but this one deserves a trip to our favorite seaside resort in Patillas, where we’ve spent a few occasions, like my birthday a few years ago.


Yes, that’s what we need a perfect day in paradise to celebrate my honey’s big day and to give me a little rope back; I need some rope.


The internet netted a economy special of $88 per night with full breakfast in our favorite spot, no TV no air conditioner, but no matter, the scenery is spectacular, so who cares. Since we haven’t closed on the property we’re careful with money, so with the perfect economy special on the screen, I called the resort. No, that wasn’t a current price even if it was still on their web site, $108 per night is the price.


The room is still available, we coming in the morning, please, see what you can do about getting us the price advertised, I am not too proud to say we live on a budget. This will be our fifth time, we do love this place, but for $108- no TV, no radio and as it later turned out, no shampoo, no coffee maker, no cups of any kind.


We wanted to return to where we have good memories and to nourish our souls in the beauty of nature, so we did the new deal.


The lovely Frances checked us in with an introductory speech, before we walked to the room we were greeted by the two resident satos, the bassett hound mixes with perfect manners know how to smooze the guests, how they knew I’d be good for leftover pizza later, they liked me!


If the sun or the soothing surf sounds don’t completely unwind you, the breeze finishes the job off every time. This was going to be the perfect day we needed to get some of that rope back.


And then I opened the bomb in my email, the news read the buyers were terminating the contract; it gave no reason that I could tell as my head exploded. We’ve been under contract with these people for six weeks, the day before my husband’s sixty-ninth birthday; where the hell is that rope?


Sorry this is person, guys, but when ya gotta bitch, ya gotta bitch. Tomorrow’s another day. May dogs be with us!

Good Morning Puerto Rico

Dew still hangs in the air, while the morning sun brushes the tops of the trees, roosters crow and the doves coo. The smell of coffee brewing calls me gently awake, as the other birds begin to announce their intentions for the day. Puerto Rico is lovely in the morning.


My husband’s birthday is in a couple of weeks, usually we have friends over for a party, but this year we’re searching the island for an inexpensive little gem of a getaway place like the one we found in Patillas, which is also in the running for birthday spot.

It’s funny because when you first get to the island you realize how much you stand out with pudgy white legs and feel like the sore thumb; it weirds you out, which means I get shy and go into people watch mode. When I manage to get over myself, laughing and talking with people is just the best, you never know where people are really from, so you start talking, only to find out the people were really your neighbors from two towns over in Illinois and then the no shit effect takes over so you settle in comfortably.

Adventure hunting will have to wait; kirt needs to fix the handle on the screen door and alas, I need to mop the floor; perhaps this isn’t paradise. ;)

Hello Puerto Rico Our Retirement Home

We’ve been home in Guajataca two weeks today. Sitting on the veranda watching rain on the ridge does not accomplish much, so I still have quite a bit of cleaning to do. There is no rush; I am retired.



Having spent most of my life in Illinois, who would guess that Kirt and I would retire to a tropical island for real?


Most of the work around here is being done by our Spanish speaking neighbor, who is cutting the overgrown grass with a machete, which he prefers to the weed wacker. Conversations are short and difficult, but getting better; could it be my Spanish is improving, probably not.


I don’t know how to do “retired” yet, so living in paradise may have a learning curve. Returning to our favorite places and finding new ones should aid the transition.


It’s good to be home; I think I’ll go shopping today. Tricia