Tidying Up

Bella and I are home today as Andy took the BeGo to the border to see how many parts have been "borrowed" from the Black Panther. And, by the way, yes a BeGo is a tiny compact car that we are managing to fit in just fine, all 6 of us! Usually we are on a bumpy dirt road or the beach road, rarely on pavement like you may be picturing, no "freeway" driving here. The kids took the quad to school so we are home baking bread, making cookies, and tidying up around the place. The power has been going on and off all morning and I am wondering if I have jinxed myself. The second to last time I baked bread the power went off in the middle of baking it with no fewer than 6 half baked loaves of bread in the oven, which proceeded to slump all over themselves and the oven, unable to support themselves any longer without the heat needed to chemically prop them and their dying yeast up, and when the power came back on an hour-ish later I had one huge mono-loaf attached to all 4 walls of the oven, given a real good visual for the term, "half baked" and I am praying that does not happen again today! With bread must come soup. So even tho I am sweating in a bikini with the effort of typing, we will probably be perspiring in our potato soup at dinnertime.

*

But back to the tidying portion of the day. Since I have been teaching for the past couple of weeks, some of the meticulous cleaning I usually undertake, ahem, has been let go a bit. So after mopping the floor humming tunes from Cinderella, I dragged my shopvac outside, the only vacuum I have here to use which makes me dream of my sweet Miele at home in RI where she rests in her cozy closet while I am provided with no end of frustration or the f-word as the handle constantly falls apart when the plastic floor attachment sticks to the tile on every other stroke in spite of the rolls of masking tape I have used to try to tape each ridiculous section together. But don't get me started on that. I dragged the cursed appliance out to try to clean up the concrete dust from the patio that surrounds us as the concrete is not sealed properly so constantly disintegrates into a fine dust, eventually making its way into the house if not sucked up regularly. Now, you are probably wondering, is she really going to bore us here with the details of her housecleaning? No, that is just the thing. Any time you forget where you are, doing some mundane task like you might do if you lived in the Ukraine or the US or anywhere else in the universe, that's when you inevitably get blindsided, reminded that you are, in fact, living in Costa Rica.

*

So there I was just leaning in to the unpleasant task, when I mindlessly moved the plastic bin of pool and snorkeling toys and surprised a large scorpion, which quickly scuttled back under it while every inch of my own skin started to crawl. Yuck. Of course I could not let it linger there, so close to the front door and all, and finally was able to get it cornered with a broom for a photo op, see above, which apparently it was in no mood for and then encouraged it into a plastic quart Pops chocolate ice cream container where it promptly hunkered down to await its fate. The photo is for Alicia, who stated bravely that she does not mind scorpions at all but the tarantula photo put her over the edge. As an aside, that same tarantula, or perhaps its twin, was waiting outside just below the door when Andy went to lock up two nights ago. It's tough to tell them apart...

*

Now, I confess, scorpions really creep me out with their sinister little lobster-like claws and nasty segmented tails for maximum flexibility. I know they are my zodiac sign and perhaps I should have some kind of fondness for them, but I really wish my Mom had waited and pushed me out as a Pisces or something, possibly simultaneously landing herself in the Guinness Book for the longest pregnancy had she succeeded. They, including Micah, say that the beast's sting is like a bee sting, nothing worse, but the idea of having one of them actually on my body somewhere before flipping that nasty barb on the end of its tail over its head and into my largest organ gives me such agida that I am sure I would have a heart attack simultaneously from the creep factor alone. Others have said the venom can make you feel kind of high for the rest of the day but I'll take quaaludes or some moldy mushrooms over that any day.

*

Here's an interesting fact, tho I have not tried this at home myself. When cornered and sensing its imminent demise, a scorpion will supposedly sting itself and head voluntarily off into scorpion heaven where I suppose none of us freaky humans abide. Rumor around school has it that if you make a little ring of fire and put my zodiac mascot in the center, it will indeed commit scorpion suicide, using its handy dandy built-in hari-kari barb. I prefer to toss them as far from the house as I can, hoping they are not vengeful creatures like their human zodiac signees, and will make their way with great determination back to the foot of my bed to wait under the covers, stinger in the up position, for my tired little toes to stretch out. Which, by the way, is the best reason for having white and only white linens in the tropics. I figure the beasties do serve a purpose and I did look that up in response to a student in my class who stepped on one after I explicitly stated, "Don't...," and the answer to "What good are they anyway?" was not all that impressive. I mean, they do eat spiders and other insects, ya-da-ya-da-ya-da, but nothing so amazing as to stimulate the sympathy of your average teenage boy. Frankly, I'd like to match up our tarantula with the stinging gymnast and see who prevails, as creepy as that would be. Rather like that footage of the killer whale and the great white shark wrestling with their teeth in the cold waters lapping at the ends of the streets of San Francisco, but with less splashing and underwater obscurity.

*

Okay, I am off to make sure the ants have not discovered the rising bread. I fully expect they are capable of carrying off a loaf or two if they put their backs to it. Speaking of San Francisco, I will close with my new Spanish name, as coined by my friend Gloria from that fair city and the birthplace of Hannah - Kelita. This name is useful as it prevents every Tico I meet from saying, "Kelly? Oh, like Barbie's sister!"