THE THIRD WORLD BECKONS

Ecuador, Costa Rica, Panama, Mexico, Belize, Nicaragua, even Malaysia, India, Thailand, or the Azores are all places I am seriously considering relocating to begin life anew. I am not searching for Shangri-La, only to survive financially.  

Others have given me a long list of reasons why I shouldn’t do this. But I’ve got a long list of my own why I must.

I love my house and my life here in Vero Beach. Unfortunately, I can no longer afford to maintain my beautiful home. My quality of life here is diminishing all the time. I’m constantly forced to cut back on things I enjoy such as eating out and attending live shows.

In 2016 I will turn 65; I know my health is going to decline. Friends say I shouldn’t worry because I take such good care of myself. Well my father did everything right and still suffered serious illnesses. I can’t wait for a stroke, heart attack, or hip replacement to leave, by then it will be too late.

Because of my spotty work record, I’m ineligible for even one dime of Social Security or Medicare.

To become eligible, I'd have to marry a Death Row inmate, one who has little chance of receiving a stay of execution. But I would need to be married at least one year in order to collect his S.S. benefits as a widow. However, the guy would probably want conjugal visits. – Hey, I’m not a prostitute!

Had I married that old Mormon fart when I was 50, he’d probably be dead by now! I’d be financially secure and back living on the water with a maid. But I just couldn’t stand the thought of him touching me!

Also I’ve thought about becoming a Nun. The celibacy part is a piece of cake for me. However, I’m not religious, and the wardrobe is ugly and limited. Plus Nuns don’t just sing and pray. They do lots of hard work helping underprivileged children. Since I hate kids and am allergic to work, this doesn’t fly for me!

So my only option is to immigrate to a Third World country! Otherwise, I’d better plan on dying at 72 just like my mother. Or I’m liable to end up under a bridge eating cat food, especially if I’m forced to do any hospital time.

All of the above countries have thriving expatriate communities, so it’s not as if I’m going to be the only one. However to emigrate, you must have a minimum monthly income. They don’t want homeless people dumped there. I just squeak by in some of these cases. However, once I sell my house it will bump-up my income.

Also it is difficult to get a work visa in these countries, because they don’t want anyone taking jobs away from a local. However, writing is a portable career. The only problem is I’d make more money selling my blood!

My big issue is that I am NOT a computer person. Modern technology may as well be rocket science to me. I have zero aptitude for it! I am forced to pay someone to come over and show me how to do every little thing. Then, I always want to holler, “Go back and explain that in a language I can understand!” There is absolutely no way I can remember all those steps!

After moving to Vero Beach in 1999, I enrolled in a computer class at the local Adult Education Center. The course was fast paced! It didn’t matter whether you kept up. The only thing I actually learned was how to turn my computer on & off. Basically, I was issued a diploma just for showing up.  

I would be happy just to enjoy a quiet retirement and let my writing be a hobby. Unfortunately, when I lost that staggering sum in G.M. Bonds that was rendered impossible, here.

Of course, living in another country will be a big adjustment with all the cultural differences. I’ll have to learn another language. As long as there is no math involved, I think I can hack it!

Also as an animal lover, I don’t know if I could live someplace where the national sport is cockfighting!

Unfortunately, in the Third World they have that “manana attitude”! Manana literally means, “Tomorrow.” In actuality it means, “Whenever I sober up” or “Whenever I damn well feel like it,” which could mean 2 days or 2 weeks from now. This is especially irksome when it comes to service or repairs. That would drive me straight up the walls!!! I’d be so flustered and frustrated I’d show up at their place of business and force a repairman at gunpoint to come and fix my air conditioner or refrigerator. I’d probably end up in a flea & rat infested Third World jail.  

I’ve read that ALL developing countries have that attitude. The natives don’t want to be forced to adhere to a clock or any rules, which is precisely why they will remain Third World.

Worse and most dangerous of all, they refuse to follow necessary traffic rules. To someone who has anxiety attacks and is navigationally impaired, this is particularly terrifying! Crosswalks are even dangerous because natives will drive right thru red lights. And at night some drive without lights! Police look the other way unless an infraction is committed by a foreigner. Then you are expected to slip them a few bucks to avoid a ticket. This leaves a bad taste in my mouth!

However, I will be forced as usual, to think with my wallet. As I age, I need a country where I can actually afford medical care, right along with food and shelter.

Currently, I’m doing lots of research and saving up my money.

ONE of the above countries I am planning to visit in either late 2015 or early 2016. My friends all know which one, more about this later.

I AM NOT CRAZY, JUST DISORDERLY

If you know me at all, you’re aware I juggle a laundry list of mental disorders. Two of them, I didn’t realize even had names until this decade! The ones to which I am referring are Dyscalculia and Synesthesia.

First and foremost, let me make this clear, Asexuality is NOT a disorder any more than Homosexuality, even though some people would like to believe it is! Nymphomania IS a mental disorder and I’m sure glad it’s not one of mine!

This blog is my memoir so I’m hanging it all out there. For your edification, I will attempt to explain the two above.

Dyscalculia is the math version of Dyslexia. To this day, I am unable to figure even simple numbers without having to count on my fingers and toes. Sure, I learned adding & subtracting as well as the multiplication tables in school. And I know for example that 7 plus 5 is 19 and 8 X 6 is 32. -- Hey, that’s close enough as far as I’m concerned.

Another symptom is navigational impairment to an extreme degree. I’ve had appointments and attended events in numerous buildings where I was unable to find my way out! After wandering around aimlessly in confusion, I’d usually find myself in the back or way at the opposite end of the entrance. Whenever I asked for directions all I’d hear was, “Blah, da, blah, that way and turn left, then yada, yada, then another left, yammer-yammer, then go right blather, blather, blather.” – I’d be more confused than ever!

Did I neglect to mention that I get left & right confused? Dyscalculia also involves severe spatial unawareness and depth perception as well.

And people actually wonder why I get anxiety attacks behind the wheel of a car! I didn’t get my Driver’s License until late in life. Had it been my choice, I would NEVER have gotten one at all!

My father used to say, “Dianne has a natural tendency to do things the opposite way with everything!”

Synesthesia is more difficult to talk about, because I always get “The Look.” This disorder is a co-mingling of sounds, smells, colors, & tastes. For example the name Frances spelled either in the masculine or feminine version makes me taste roast turkey with gravy when I say it. With Marie its spice cake, David baked chicken, Ralph beef stew, Linda mint wafers, Mary milk, Rosemary cream, Jane black coffee, Martin peanut butter, Barbara cucumbers, etc.

Also with Synesthesia, numbers have colors, smells, & personalities. For example, 8 is purple, a tad vain, but she is good-hearted, & smells like Spanish perfume. 4 is pink & prissy & smells like laundry detergent. 7 is green, has charisma, is quite conceited, & he smells like spearmint. 9 is charcoal, he is friendly, reliable, helpful, & smells like sweat. 2 is sky blue, snippy & shallow, she smells like fried bananas. 1 is arrogant & controlling; he is bleach white and smells like cheap hair tonic. 3 is golden orange, big-hearted, out-spoken, & with zero tolerance for bullies, she smells like musk & citrus combined.

I’ve only met ONE other person with this condition. It was during the second grade. Our Bible studies teacher (this was the 1950’s) claimed the number 6 was evil, because it's the Devil’s number. Afterward, I told the boy next to me she was wrong, because 6 is sweet and shy, her color is butter yellow, & she smells like honeysuckle.

“YOU are WRONG!” he declared. “6 is brownish, has a filthy mouth, & smells like steamed fish!”

Bitterly, we argued back and forth! If ANY number IS the Devil’s number, it HAS to be 5!!! Its blood red; obnoxious, loud, pushy & smells like insecticide! Trust me, I am right about this!!! 

Always I’ve been highly self-conscious and embarrassed about myself. I HATE having to make conversation, so I just learned to remain tight-lipped. Better this than being labeled crazy. There has never been a time in my life when someone wasn’t trying to glue an ugly label onto me. I didn’t need another! My OCD alone is difficult enough for other people to understand.

As a child, when introduced by my mother, she would add, “Bill & I blame ourselves for the way Dianne is. She wasn’t raised around other children.” Mom always said this in a tone that made me sound like a 6 year old prostitute or drug addict!

My folks should have been proud that I didn’t end up that way. I KNOW I AM! Perhaps they’d rather I turned out like my brother, a paranoid schizophrenic who has been in and out of the psychiatric ward of federal prison! If the option existed, we BOTH would have been sent back for a refund. 

 

FOOTNOTE:  My mother had a bout of her own with paranoid schizophrenia, but that memory will be shared another time.

ME & METV

Around 6:00 PM there is absolutely nothing I’d rather do than slip into my ratty, old comfortable robe and watch TV. I get too sleepy to do anything else. Remember, I often get up at 5:30 AM and sometimes earlier. Thanks to my DVR I can nap between programs.

Autumn has arrived along with the new television season. Always it’s a mixed bag! Many of these programs won’t be around after November, if that long.

Summer to me is synonymous with movies, ice cream, and air conditioning. Last time around I found myself seduced by some dusty treasures on METV.

I happened across 2 of my old favorites THRILLER & ALFRED HITCHCOCK. It had been 50 years since viewing any of these programs! Some episodes, such as “A Wig for Miss Devore” and “The Hungry Glass” on THRILLER, I recalled in vivid detail as if I’d viewed them just yesterday. Others, I began to recall only as they were unfolding. Sometimes, I remembered the ending, sometimes not.

Most fascinating of all was watching now famous TV stars only a few short years from their big break-out role. The first time these episodes aired many were unknown struggling actors.   William Shatner appeared in several HITCHCOCK episodes just 3 or 4 years before becoming Captain Kirk of the Starship Enterprise. Plus he starred in “The Hungry Glass” on THRILLER along with Russell Johnson, later to be the Professor on GILLIGAN’S ISLAND. Also this same teleplay featured Donna Douglas in a brief, non-speaking, but significant role shortly before becoming Elly Mae Clampett on the BEVERLY HILLBILLIES.

Elisabeth Montgomery was featured on another episode of THRILLER as a domestic vampire before becoming a domesticated witch later in the decade. I could go on and on and on!

Two of my favorite actresses Patricia Barry and the impossibly gorgeous Susan Oliver were nearly ubiquitous on the small screen in those days. Both highly talented actresses, yet, they never became famous as they deserved to be.

Many popular actors I once enjoyed have suddenly vanished! A family friend used to say, “They’re off enjoying their millions somewhere.” -- A choice preferable to guest shots on those sleazy shows that followed in the coming decades. In my opinion, anyway!

METV also brought to mind all of the chaotic events going on in MY life back then. The atmosphere was crazy, stressful, and everything about to unravel!

One episode of HITCHCOCK I recall only because I watched it in a New Orleans motel room. This was our last family vacation before my father lost his high-paying job and our lives spun right into a ditch.

Both THRILLER & HITCHCOCK were pulled from the METV line-up after the calendar hit September. I wasn’t ready to say good-bye.

Also METV ran the movie THE THING THAT COULDN’T DIE! The first time I saw this film, I was 11 years old. This was on a late October Saturday afternoon during a storm with heavy rain and lightning. I was so frightened; my nails were almost bitten bloody. Then right in the middle of the picture my electricity was suddenly knocked out! -- I have waited literally 52 years to see the ending of that movie!!! This time around I’d been toughened-up by zombie films. I had no problem watching it alone in the dark, my manicure remained intact. -- And the THING COULDN’T DIE did, way too easily in fact!

Last summer, I opened a door to the past and enjoyed a nostalgic jaunt down memory lane, but now with the fall season here, that door is closed, (well, ajar) at least at least until next June.

GET THAT $#%! OUT OF MY FACE

Not long ago, I googled a beautiful song honoring the fallen of wars past. As I clicked play, a woman appeared sitting on a toilet. Her accent was British. In explicit detail she began discussing her smelly bodily function and with graphic visual aids, too. I wanted to pinch my nose and reach for a can of Lysol. Geez lady, light a match and disappear!!!

Several thoughtful people have suggested I place ads on my blog page to generate income. I’ve got 3 words for this, TACKY, TACKY, and TACKY! I don’t want to see those things junking up my blog page!

I’m pissed enough that I can no longer enjoy a TV show or a movie without having to stare at an advertisement for something else the entire time! It’s bad enough that their big, honking logo is constantly in my face! – Of course the commercials are excluded and I always zap those anyway!

Some of the premium movie channels even force you to look at a logo throughout the entire film. -- When I’m paying my cable company extra, I DON’T WANT TO LOOK AT THAT!!!

The problem seems to have gotten worse over this past summer.  

Of course some channels are more flagrant than others. Unfortunately, the majority now seem compelled to make their logos ENORMOUS, and with advertising above, too! A significant part of the TV screen is now taken up!!! It’s not unusual for this garbage to spill over onto the actor’s faces.

Even when advertising is absent; the name of the current program is posted above the giant logo. Why is this necessary? I already KNOW what I’m watching and the channel. Hey, I iz a high skool graduate! For crying out loud, it isn’t nuclear physics!

Egads! Then there are pop-ups, those annoying people who suddenly appear in the corner of your screen out of nowhere, usually during a crucial scene. I want to get a fly swatter and hit them!

Worse, is when a clock is situated in the upper right hand corner ticking away until the following program. (I DON’T CARE ABOUT THE NEXT PROGRAM YOU IDIOTS I’M TRYING TO WATCH THIS ONE!!!) Between the logo, the ads, the pop-ups, and a clock; my TV screen is just too busy!!! All of this is so intrusive and distracting it’s impossible to concentrate on whatever I happen to be watching. Gone are the days when I could lose myself in the story!

Don’t the networks realize how cheesy and tacky this looks; never mind how disruptive and irritating it is to the viewer! Most likely, it has to do with the bottom line and the viewer be damned as far as they’re concerned.

SOAKING IT UP WITH FAYE

Ten years have quickly passed since the double hurricanes struck Vero Beach only 3 weeks apart. The local newspaper has been filled with stories and photos of this tragic anniversary. Those sickeningly awful memories remain as vivid to me as if they occurred yesterday. The aftermath with its sweltering heat, lack of electricity and the expensive damage to my house was actually worse than the storms.

Reading some of the accounts, I felt way more fortunate than others. But a few of these people should have known better. Twenty years ago, a boyfriend in the Maritime Industry told me, “Anyone with a brain should not build or live on a barrier island.” Had these hurricanes been a category 4 or 5 there would have been nothing left, probably not even an island!

The 1^st hurricane, Frances struck shortly after sunrise over the Labor Day weekend. Jeanne slammed us next on Sept. 23 striking during the later evening hours. I’ve already blogged about these.

Now, I’m going to recall a tropical storm that remains equally memorable, at least to me. This occurred in 2008, a mid-term election year similar to this one. In fact a candidate’s sign was under my giant oak.

Tropical Storm Faye arrived late in August. Since it was not a hurricane, I was spared having to get my house boarded. This was a big relief! No one expected more than a day of heavy rain.

During the wee A.M. hours I was awakened by wet, cold drops hitting my body. Rainwater was blowing in thru the CLOSED picture window near my bed. -- This window had been freshly calked just the year before. My carpet and furniture were getting soaked!

In desperation, I ran downstairs to the garage for a roll of duct tape. I hurriedly applied it around the top of the window where the water was flying in. Sweat and rainwater comingled. By the time I was finished, my nightgown and I were drenched. But I had stopped the leaking! Now I grabbed as many towels as possible to blot my carpet & furniture.

Later, people told me that duct-taping my window would damage it, and was the worst thing I could have done. – I suppose I should have just let the storm ruin my carpet & furniture! Plus I managed to keep mold away!

Faye turned out to be 3 days of NON-STOP heavy rain. It was a monsoon! To my great surprise and relief, the electricity never went out, not once! It was far more bearable than with the hurricanes; I still enjoyed air-conditioning, TV, and hot food. However, I was between computers, then.

I just cocooned and found myself enjoying every minute of it. I drank cups of mocho (strong coffee with 2 scoops of hot chocolate) as I read, or watched old movies on TCM. All of this felt like a serene, little vacation from reality. The constant pounding rain outside and the sublime comfort inside had an ethereal dreamlike quality about it.

My newspaper still arrived every day, although wet. And the mail arrived, too. My long, hooded, plastic raincoat was always kept nearby. The water came up high over my ankles around the mailbox.

Before this monsoon was over, my back yard had transformed into a pond. And the street in front of my house was now a canal. A neighbor actually pulled a live and flapping foot-long fish out of the street near his box! Thankfully, I did not have to drive anywhere. My car is built low to the ground. It would have been ruined!

Days later, the water still lingered, but receded enough so that I could grocery shop and run errands. Life was back to usual, now. Reality soon kicked-in! Come spring, I along with nearly everyone in my neighborhood was busily getting estimates from contractors. Lots of rotting wood needed to be replaced and freshly painted. My windows required another calking as well. My sublime little vacation at home turned into a costly one.

YADA, YADA, YAKETY YAK!

Over the summer, I encountered 2 different women who seemed eager to be my friend. However, I did NOT feel likewise about them! Both were the type who began relating their entire life’s history seconds after saying hello.

If they had just held back a bit, I might have found their conversations interesting. But it was just WAY too much information overload at one time! And worse, we weren’t having a conversation. I was just sitting and listening to their non-stop talk. They didn’t even seem to take time to breathe. In order to get a word in edgewise, I had to interrupt. And I do not like to interrupt people, but sometimes you are forced, just to get away from them.

My good friends Rose, Sue & Marie are NOTHING like this! Marie told me they were probably just really lonely.

I do NOT like lonely people! I myself am alone, however at any given moment; I can think of 10 things I want to do vs. 10 things that need doing. There’s no room for boredom or loneliness.

To be honest, I don’t like MOST people, period!

As a writer, I can spend an entire day struggling with just 1 page! Perhaps Hemingway, Dickens, Melly Nofal, or other more talented writers require few re-writes. But nothing comes natural or easily to me. I need lots and lots of re-writes!

After I think my work is finally perfect, I can rest. But the next day after a read-over, I wonder what I was thinking! This character would never react that way in this situation! Ugh, back to the top, again!

I know the creative process is uninteresting to other people. When someone at a social event asks what I’ve been up to, I don’t want to say, “Well, I spent all day yesterday working on page 47 and still couldn’t get it right.” I’m at a loss for words! So, I just say, “Nothing.”

Believe me; no one hates to socialize more than I do! Small talk bores me and most people have nothing to say that I’m interested in hearing. So, I just smile and pretend to listen while my mind is light years away in another dimension as they blather on.

Remember this, after the food is served, mouths are for eating NOT talking!!!

Never, will I forget a luncheon I attended during the last decade; I sat with 3 other women. They were about 20 years my senior. As they yammered on, they all sounded like the same person with 3 heads. And mine was about to explode from listening to them!

As a writer, my characters are often composites of several different people, similar, yet different enough to add depth and nuance. These 3 old women sounded so identical, it was downright creepy!

Recently, at a social event, I sat with a couple of age 20 somethings. Soon after seating themselves, they pulled out their texting devices. I found myself starring at the top of their heads. Yes, I thought they were rude! Apparently this is the wave of the future. But at least I was spared having to smile and pretend to be interested. Guess there’s a positive side to everything!

WOES WITH MY TOES

AND BAREFOOT FETISHES TOO!

I love going barefoot! This is Florida the laid back sunshine state where people come to play or die; usually both. It’s kind of a sacrilege NOT to go barefoot! After all we’re the land of the Barefoot Mailman. Shoes are confining!

Unfortunately, my love of going barefoot has cost me several of my toenails over the years. Darn it! It’s happened again!

As I was watching the last climactic 15 minutes of a movie, I suddenly found myself sitting in pitch darkness! I thought I’d lost electricity! But I heard the refrigerator running. Then I noticed my clock-radio was still on in the kitchen. I made a beeline for the nearest light switch. Yeoww! Ouch! Ouch! My pinky toe! It must have struck the bottom of the sofa! I flicked on the light. My toenail was bleeding and turning purple... Now it is black!

I’ve been thru this before (a few times) so I know what to expect. The nail doesn’t drop off. A healthy pink one grows under the black, with an elevated ridge separating the two. Several people told me they would never grow in normal looking again. – They were wrong!

During my childhood, before religion was removed from public schools, we learned Bible tales right along with the three R’s. In Biblical times washing a guests feet, then massaging them with olive oil was quite common. This sounded sensual and alluring to me.

Now, I am not someone who likes others messing with any part of my body! I hate going to hairdressers, even. But I would make an exception for my feet! Twice, I’ve had full body massages and both were a waste of money! My head was lodged in some type of cushion that looked like a toilet seat. On the last occasion, a eucalyptus pad was at the bottom, inhaling it gave me a sinus headache! I jerked it out and instructed the masseuse to remove it from my presence. Afterward, I endured icky grease being rubbed into my skin.

The only place I enjoyed the massage was on my feet, where they spent the least amount of time! For what I was paying, each toe should have been massaged individually. That would have been sublime! -- All I ask is that they keep my toes out of their mouth!

Friends told me that you receive a wonderful foot massage with a pedicure. -- NO YOU DON’T! What you get is similar to restaurants pouring hot water over your spent, soggy teabag. Your 2^nd cup tastes like piss water! Those pathetic little pedicure messages are over in seconds. The fact they can charge $20 for this and then expect a tip is just a rip-off! – And I can clip and paint my nails faster and better, too!

Clearly, I am NOT a spa person! If I won the lottery tomorrow they wouldn’t make 1 dime off of me!

My idea of fun is a big sheet of bubble wrap! I double it over and stomp on it with my bare feet as they do with grapes. It sounds like the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre!

In the early 1970’s, the year I turned 23, I lost BOTH big toenails just weeks apart in separate accidents. The 1^st was the worst and most memorable. I was busy taking phone orders in our family florist business. My shoes were off under my desk. A wedding was scheduled in our chapel later that evening. My father was getting ready. He pulled a lengthy, cylinder-shaped vacuum across the carpet. One of my calls happened to be for a designer in the back room. I walked around my desk to yell out to her. The heavy vacuum was dragged right over my foot. Blood gushed forth as I shrieked and screamed!

“Don’t bleed on the carpet!!!” my father kept hollering.

“The hell with the damn carpet!” I told him, angrily. “I am in pain!” A near-by designer rushed over with paper towels.

Still bleeding, I returned to taking phone calls. The next one happened to be my dad’s mistress and my future step-mother. Between ouches, I related the incident.

“What were you doing standing in the way?” she snapped. In other words, this accident was all MY fault! Grrrrr! I was tempted to slam the phone in her ear!

Just two weeks later, I was racing thru the kitchen forgetting that the floor had been waxed! Slipping and sliding, I crashed hard against a wall! My other big toe took the brunt of it. Now I was left with 2 sore, black toenails!

I was leaving for Mexico the following week, along with my father and his mistress! -- This was the trip we all slept together in a king-size bed, me between them!

Just days prior to leaving, I was forced to purchase a new pair of shoes, with open toes. These had lots of straps and seemed comfortable in the store. However, this was not the case when climbing pyramids and other ruins with steep, long steps that were better suited for rolling dead bodies than walking.

We left our Mexico City hotel early and took a cab out to explore the Aztec ruins. This area was vast and filled with a fascinating history. I was enjoying the day despite my pain. I had not the chance to break in my shoes before the trip. I would have been better off going barefoot, there!  

After we returned to our hotel in the late afternoon, blood had dried and caked all around my shoe straps. Dad had to take his knife and cut them off my feet.

For the remainder of the trip, I wore over-sized plastic thongs purchased in a shop around the block. These were the only comfortable shoes I could wear. Wherever we went, people stared at them.

For the trip home, we changed planes twice. First, we caught a small airplane in Acapulco right before dawn. (Watching the sun rise atop the mountains over Acapulco Bay is a memory I will always cherish.) Back in Mexico City we caught our plane to Miami. Boarding these planes, I suffered in closed- toed shoes, which I removed instantly upon seating.

The nails on my 2 big toes grew back just fine! And my pinky toe will too!