Sunday, March 17, 2013 — A curse on passwords!

Breakfast on the beach at Lagunitas — So relaxing

Our darling friend Nareida wearing the
origami crane earrings that Elena made for us to
take down to three of our favorite staff at Lagunitas

The little guy Kathy kept seeing just below our room

One of my favorite spots at Lagunitas

The view from our porch

Kathy spoiled me with late afternoon margaritas
and guacamole in the round house

I am always so drawn
to the bone structure of these Brama type cattle

Thank goodness Kathy's camera was still functioning

Last few memories from our great stay in Yelapa

I know, I have only myself to blame, but I'd have at least posted a few welcome home to myself words if I just could have gained entry into my own blog. But no — because Kathy used my computer in Yelapa several times and had to log into her account, my computer was sending confusing messages to good old Google. So when I went back on to do a last posting from Yelapa, it required me to furnish my user name and password, which of course I couldn't remember for anything, and it wouldn't let me in. I spent almost two hours this afternoon trying to sign in to no avail. I finally worked my way into almost certainty with the user name but the password remained a mystery because I haven't been required to use it for over a year. In desperation, I finally called Steve, who helped me to set up my first blog when Skip entered the hospital. As you must be surmising, we finally figured it all out by the process of elimination. Most such dilemmas have a flip side. It provided a lesson I think I won't forget. I'm going to create a hard copy file with these elusive little numbers and letters in case the situation repeats itself in the future. I'd say anyone out there would save himself more than a little grief by doing the same thing.

I'm beginning to retrace some memories of the last days in Yelapa. The highlight, of course was the walk up the river path with the Larochettes after their wonderful surprise arrival on the beach. The last two days before we left were spent in the village and on the beach  being entertained by vendors and fellow visitors to this peaceful but happening place. Great people watching abounds. A mother with her two sons from Canada will not soon be forgotten. The older son might have been thirteen  or fourteen years old. He had beautiful coffee colored skin and lovely black hair. The mother is a slim blond with the body of a teenager. The younger son was a two year old with skills well beyond his age. Believe me, it was hard to take our eyes off him except when we were all at the stone lined pool where he spent time tottering and climbing like a rock climber from the top steps down to the water's edge. I've never been much of a fan of harnesses for little ones, but I could enthusiastically recommend one for this little guy. The mother was reading a comic book to the older boy who was occasionally watching out for the baby. I soon lost track of all the near misses. Each uneven step down to the water was about 26 inches high and their depth when not interrupted by a protruding boulder was about 18 inches. The possibililties for a stumbling toddler to make one misstep were endless. I had to turn my head away from him when the tension level was unbearable. This kid not only did his own thing fairly uninterrupted but ran from chasing Mom or brother with fiendish glee. I'd have a harness on that one in a minute. While we were waiting for the water taxi he led both mother and brother on more than one chase and ended up at the edge of the dock pointing to the agitated water fifteen feet below and shouting "pool" and looking like he was about to dive in, I could hardly keep myself from walking over and curbing his enthusiasm just a tiny bit. Yes, there might actually be a legitimate use for baby harnesses after all.

Kathy woke up the last morning in Yelapa with an excruciating nerve/muscle spasm out of the blue when she turned and rose up to get out of bed. We had been packing and lifting our suitcases quite a bit the night before and I think we were both a bit on edge about how the weather would be for getting onto the boat from the somewhat deteriorating dock at the end of the northern malecon on the bayshore in front of the Lagunitas Hotel. Poor Kath. She really was miserable and frustrated as well. She's so strong and used to taking charge and helping with lifting and carrying at times like this. I ran hot water and tried hot compresses. May have helped a bit. She took two Ibuprophins (sp) and toughed it out with a tense sense of fear that the horrible, unpredictable spasms would occur again any minute. I went to the office and secured some help in getting our bags to the dock over the sand and rocky path. The boarding was much easier than expected because the seas were happily calmed down from the previous days. A dear man we had bought some earrings from on the beach had asked us when we planned to leave and he came across the bay in the taxi boat and helped us and everyone else get their luggage aboard and somehow Kath and I loaded up without mishaps. Some lovely people we met the evening before on the beach were also leaving to return to Puerto Vallarta where they spend half of their year before returning to Chicago where they spend the other half. They helped us get our luggage to the welcoming restaurant at the Vallarta end of the trip. A perceptive waiter sat us down and immediately asked Kathy if she was alright. Didn't take her long to respond and was almost immediately receiving a neck massage from the son of this man who happens to be a waiter/masseuse. Somehow we made it through the airport irritations of strict adherence to the edicts from the U.S. officials. I foolishly had my tapestry tool kit in my check in bag and had to contribute my favorite little plyers and a blunt, double eyed needle to the inspectors' trash can. I could bitch about that all night but I won't. Kathy bought some expensive little pills to counter inflammation. When translated they read something like"block acid." She made it through the flight and the long walk through the Immigration line and we were soon met by Steve and whisked across the bridge where we were met by Sylvia and Russ Bartley who were staying at Marina Bay that night. Always good to be back on terra firma and in a warm and familiar place. They and Steve joined us for a late dinner at Salute which is never a disappointment.

Kathy's good friend Patti and her adorable daughter, Indie, drove down to Fort Bragg to retrieve Kathy and take her back to Trinidad. After some serious shopping in greater downtown Fort Bragg, we had a good Thai dinner at Viraporn's last night and breakfast at Headland's Coffee Shop this morning before they parted. I'm home alone and it's nice to be back. I made myself a nice stir fry for dinner and was reminded that I haven't cooked a meal in two months. It felt really good. Busy week ahead but I'll try to finish the Barbara Kingsolver before I go to sleep. I'm still not quite sure how she's going to end it.