Category Archives: Costa Rica
Serial quitter
This January, I almost quit smoking. Again. I can hardly keep track of the myriad times I’ve almost quit. I started smoking at about twelve, and have continued off and on for most of my adult life. Luckily, I’ve lived … Continue reading
Chicken Little or Henny Penny?
The stray chicken is back. Actually, she’s been pecking around the house ever since the lately departed Osa tried to eat her. I don’t see her every day, but she’s here. Often, the first sound I hear in the morning … Continue reading
Rain, rain…..
Last year, the rainy season took a vacation. When I arrived, at the end of June, we got rain every day for two or three hours, but that only lasted for a few days. During most of July, it hardly … Continue reading
Miracles large and small
The first time I visited Costa Rica, on George Lundquist’s tour, retirement for the non-rich, one of the sights I saw was the Basílica de Nuestra Señora de Los Ángeles, in Cartago. George had lots of cool stories to tell … Continue reading
Spiders and beetles and toads, oh my
Like many women I know, I hate insects. If I were in South Philly, I’d say they skeeve me- or I skeeve them- I’ve never been sure of the exact usage. Insects can turn me into a raving lunatic, a … Continue reading
The car will be ready tomorrow- and the check’s in the mail.
This morning, Buddha and I wound our way up the steep, earth and gravel road to Raul’s. He’s the friendly neighborhood mechanic who’s been working on our 1986 Toyota Land Cruiser. We’re fairly certain that our car used to be … Continue reading
Osa, we hardly knew Ye
We admitted defeat this week, and wondered aloud to her owners, Mike and Sandy, if there had been a plan B for Osa’s care. We’d grown fond of her, but neither Hobbes nor Noir had. And that’s why I was … Continue reading
Every nitwit for herself: driving to the city
To get to San Jose, the capital, from Pursical, we have to drive through the mountains for almost an hour, depending on the traffic. Around each curve, the vistas of the Central Valley will take your breath away, if you’re … Continue reading
A slice of life
The first time my mother baked bread, the story goes, the loaves were more like bricks than bread. Mom tried to re-write history by trashing the evidence. But she didn’t get away with the crime: on trash pick-up day, much … Continue reading
