A Tampa Gallery

End of 2018

As we come to the close of 2018, I reflect on what mistakes I have made in my life and what I have learned over the years. I also cannot overlook my achievements as my mother often reminds me! I constantly tell my children that there is no right or wrong in life: everyone makes the journey and stumbles blindly along.  Certainly, whoever invented money should be banished forever! We are slaves to the dollar, sometimes at the expense of life memories with our loved ones. I am a Realtor today and am free from the chain of corporate America. The uncertainty of starting a new business has been hair-raising, especially during lean times. But the pleasure I have been able to take from observing my children interact with life has been precious. I would not trade that for money.

That being said, now is the time for me and my career! I will continue my blog and tell you all about my travels soon!

My life should be a book!

Whenever I start to tell my life story, many people respond with the above comment. Those people are the ones who wished they had the freedom or daring to make the life journey that I have. However, we all have dreams of an alternate reality. I wish from time to time that I had stayed in one place, with one partner, in one job. For starters, I'd be making a lot more money! Secondly, I'd have many more creature comforts, and thirdly, I'd have more friends and be well-known in my community. Starting over in a  new locale is hard work. But, as I write this, I would not trade my life experiences for the steady life dream that grips me when I'm feeling alone. However, as I age, I am increasingly draw to the "steady life" but fear that I cannot maintain it over the long-term, and I may wind up disappointing a partner. Similarly, there are those living the steady life who dream of being free but who can never actually make it real. Too many creature comforts and a steady income traps them into a life they may no longer want. They become prisoners, afraid to take a risk for fear of losing material wealth. Whichever path we choose, life is not "meant to be" any specific way. There is no right and wrong, no playbook. But can we change midstream? Can we become what we're not?

Why am I here?

I have been reflecting on how I got to the USA and why I thought I wanted to be here. I remember after I had married my soldier husband in Berlin, Germany and we were leaving for the USA how I felt. I did not want to leave. I felt it was a mistake somehow. My parents saw me off and I was heartbroken. I arrived in Denver and was made welcome by my in-laws. When we moved to Rio Rancho, New Mexico, Erik and I were not close. I had no family. I already felt a little adrift. I think I moved because it was exciting.  Over the years, I became more isolated. I married a second time for the thrill of it. My parents did not take to him. I always felt like I did not belong in America. I was different, quite apart from my accent. I have made the USA my home for over 23 years because of my children. My last child will be 15 in August 2017. Although not quite done with my prison sentence, I am very ready to move on. If I make a move back to the UK, do I fit in? More importantly, does my child fit in?

The Mayan Culture

I was offered the rare opportunity and honor to be part of the Mayan culture, even if just for a few months. I went to the creek with the women to wash clothes. Each family has their own scrubbing stone that is passed down through generations. No men are allowed.

I was invited with my family to eat with a Mayan family. Everything was hand-made. Do you know how long it takes to make a tortilla, from corn grinding to roasting over a fire that you prepare? How do you time that perfectly with the onion soup you make from scratch?

One sad visit to the Mayan village entailed a burial of a child who had died from a simple illness that could have been cured given access to modern hospitals and medicine. The whole village walked in procession to the funeral - everyone cared. A water pump was set up in the grave site since the water table is so high, the coffin would otherwise float. Imagine the parents wanting only to hear peace after their loss, and instead hearing the incessant hum, drowning out the priest's words.

The Mayans made my children's school uniforms from scratch. Each perfect, handmade shirt cost $5. How is this possible when American companies charge over $50 for a high-fashion blouse? What are we paying for? Does anyone stop to think?

I am me

Someone special asked me today what my mid-life crisis was. We automatically think of something that went wrong in out lives; after all, this is the moment when marriages fail, lives are irreversibly altered, and we take our brave leap into an alien universe, retaining minimal "normal" character traits.

Immediately leaped to mind my journey through Mexico with my children, husband. 2 boats and an ancient motorhome in 2005. What on earth was I thinking, many ask? Wasn't it dangerous, they say? Bad parent - what about your children?

Yes, Yes, and YES!!

What is life without risk? What have you experienced? What experiences formed you? How do you use that skillset to help others? I am unafraid, I am a traveler, a problem-solver, an ambassador, I get along with all people, I am interested in the human form in their environment.

I AM ME.

Picking up the past

Tampa, FL

How fun that I found my old blog! It's like a trip down memory lane. My gosh, I thought as I read it, doesn't that chick write with wit lol! My now husbandless world has been devoid of artistry if not anguish.  I have a lot of catching up to do so I'll probably be up all until the wee hours, churning out pent up sagas of woe and wit.

But, you ask, how did I misplace my husband?  You missed it all so I will rewind back to Tampico, the hole of hell.........

After we leave Tampico, poorer and angrier, we contemplate turning back but that would mean going through Tampico again..we have to continue forward but decide we night need the steering column.  With trepidation, we pull over by the basura bin on the side of a hopefully infrequently traveled road. My husband pieces together the steering column enough to drive us to our next stop. However, I do insist on putting all the kids in my vehicle just in case my husband does himself a serious injury due to his "fixing". I think my caution stems from the time he tried to kill me by putting the air filter back in the heater the wrong way when we lived in a real house! He said it wasn't so but we both had spent years trying surreptitiously to murder each other :)   I know he loved me really.

Some info from Wiki on the "Rich Pool" that is nowhere near the water!

Quick facts

Poza Rica, formally: Poza Rica de Hidalgo is a city and its surrounding municipality in the Mexican state of Veracruz. Its name means "rich pool", because it was a place known for its abundance of fish.Wikipedia

Nevertheless, I felt we had reached a new niveau in Mexican civilization. Gone were the potholes, for the most part, buildings had paint on them, and people looked less morose. Happy children approached our vehicles selling pieces of mango and papaya in little plastic bags. I bought some but ate tentatively since they probably didn't sing "happy birthday" while washing their hands. Coming from an extensive career in the food industry left me somewhat paranoid about food contamination. Even my little chefs would not touch food at home without washing for two whole minutes and here they come to discover that it was all for naught. Other kids got away without washing for weeks, it seemed! Still, the hearty goodness of the fruit overpowered the nasty killer bacteria and we lived to see another day. I did notice my husband did not eat any ... no doubt, he was trying to kill me again..

I will leave you in Poza Rica for tonight with some warming thoughts of soon reaching the azure, tepid waters of north Central America and the achievement of our dream...

Tampico Part 2

So you think they were done with us? No, we plow merrily on with our now palpitating hearts and hope to make it out of town before sunset. Suddenly, we hit a ditch the size of the Grand Canyon and who d'ya think is standing on the other side, waiting? Diga me! The policeman in full regalia awaits us, pointing at his chest. We roll through the ditch at 3 MPH and roll down the windows reluctantly, with full knowledge that the "ratting out Americans" network in Tampico is alive and well. Dude points to my husband's seatbelt that he is wearing and insists that it is not being worn. Out of touch and not seeing the State President anywhere close to rescue us, we indulge our biggest fan and pay the equivalent of his wages for the next year. Demoralized and several hundreds of dollars lighter, we hope we finally can move on with our adventure. We are on the 180D, headed for the beautiful Gulf of Mexico and plan to follow it the 1200 miles through Mexico to our destination in Hopkins, Belize.
Countryside, State of Veracruz, we set the cruise control and talk on the walkie to each other. My husband is leading the way with the motor home. I notice he begins to swerve slightly. "What is going on" I naturally ask? Bad news: the steering column has separated itself from the vehicle, the mechanism is in his lap and he is holding it in place with both hands and legs. He assures me it's just a normal day for him and continues down the road on the lookout for civilization.

Belize Adventure Resumes

Like a re-run, I am back! What happened to Susan, you may ask? Did she perish in Mexico? Did she die of overwork on her blog? Was it the kids' fault? No! My life up and changed AGAIN!

Let me catch you up................

Once upon a time, Susan and family were lingering in Brownsville - remember?

So we pluck up the courage to wait in the eternal line at the border crossing. Unable to speak Spanish but with that arrogant air of "We're American so speak English", we shouted to be understood by the authorities. After emptying our pockets several times and receiving countless pieces of Mexican paper (Like single-ply toilet paper), we landed in Ciudad Victoria. Since I had plotted our trip by noting the towns that contained Walmarts - figuring they might be very Americanized if not civilized - Ciudad Victoria seemed the place to be. First stop - internet cafe to let family know if they don't hear from us every 3 days, we died in Mexico and to come dig up our bodies at the border. We sleep in a campsite set up for motor homes, meet the owner, and give away our barbecued chicken dinner to the local community who thinks we're both wealthy and stupid - go figure?! Mamasita Victoria takes the juicest cuts of meat and sits on our best chair, telling stories to the gathering crowds about her escapades in Belize. Much entertained and sated, the crowd disperses and we feel secure in the fact that the mordida of chicken would ensure our first night's safety in this strange but fascinating land of manana, where talking to each other is a national pastime.

Indeed, we awake refreshed and alive. We shower, buy fresh bread, Mamasita bids us a family-style farewell, and we are soon on our way with no mishaps. Easy, I think - we can really enjoy our life adventure together! REALLY???

Driving towards Tampico, our next planned stayover, I become nervous since the guidebook warns us of the bribery that is rampant within the police in this area. Do not take the highways, they say, take local roads. So, obedient as ever, we do just that. Local roads are usually wide enough for a donkey. I'm pulling a 26 foot boat behind a 15 foot van. How, mathematically, does this go around a 90-degree corner of 2 intersecting donkey roads without smacking the neighbors' walls?

No, I didn't figure this out - math whiz that I am - I just twatted those walls that happened to be right in front of the local police station, just where they got a really good view. Hubbie to the rescue.....he gets the vehicles around the corner and picks up the broken bricks.....and takes a wad of cash out of his pocket for the visitors. Paid our way out of that one and on we go.

The guidebook states that a "mordida" or bribe to the police is generally around $20. No sweat, think I, as we are pulled over. The violation we are accused of is touching with one of our tires the white line that every other vehicle crossed over. See, they even learn to explain your violation to you in English, so profitable is the mordida business. They probably hold evening classes titled "American capitalism 101 - how to get rich quick". Being the self-proclaimed "intellectual" in the partnership and having digested every fact in the guidebook, I whip out $20 and smile sweetly. The police retreat hastily to their vehicle, having been directly approached by a female, and consult. They bring my husband a written ticket for $1,000. What an outrage! Doesn't agree with the info in the book, you moron! Bring us downtown, arrest us, see where that gets you! I'll call the embassy, they will make a national incident of this! "Susan, shut up!" yells my husband! "We can't allow them to take us downtown - the results will not be good, especially with the kids. They will take everything we own and maybe hurt us". My husband, always the wise one - he was arrested in Tijuana once so he knows. Susan, always the righteous one. We pay the $1,000 and drive meekly on. Oh, I vow one day to write the President of the State of Tamaulipas about his police force. I hope he is reading this blog.

Belize Adventure Part 3

After El Paso, we made our way through West Texas. If they ever had water in that place, it is not evident! We stopped at an RV site somewhere in Nowheresville and met a bearded guy who had been "trying to get home" for the past 18 months! Course, his vehicle did not run and he ate only liquid meals so the urgency obviously had left him. As we entered East Texas, churches became bigger and brighter and the landscape became more verdant. A very cute RV site was our home for a couple of days near to Brenham. Ducks in a pond, $500K rolling homes, a community building with all the bells and whistles greeted us - it was very hard to move on. Move on we did, however, to our ultimate destination in the US - Brownsville. That was our jumping off point to Mexico. By this time, we had taken approximately 10 days to get to the southernmost point of our US leg. I had been in constant contact by cell phone over this period to my old job - giving instructions and advice to the folks who had taken over my life at K-BOB'S. With trepidation, both my husband andI realized this was it - our last day to link with everything we always knew. I cancelled my cell phone service, we slept in Walmart's parking lot with our generator running. The next day, we drove to the crossing point and promptly turned around. The prospect of traveling through Mexico alone with 3 kids was daunting. We lingered for 3 days in Brownsville, going fishing, investigating the area and generally avoiding the inevitable. If we were ever to reach our dream. we had to pluck up the courage to enter the unknown.

Reprehensible behavior of many recruiters

As a long-time professional in the US market and recently laid off from a Director position, I am appaled by the lack of respect shown by many recruiters who call to discuss opportunities, make commitments to forward professional profiles to companies, then never get in touch again. This reflects poorly on the retaining company and the recruiting firm itself. If a recruiter stands to gain $20,000-$30,000 commission from a possible hire, would it not make sense to treat that person with respect and make the necessary phone call, especially if you may need them again to fill a future opportunity? Is this to become a pervasive contagion throughout our culture or should we professionals modify the behavior as a positive example to those just starting out?

Austin Texas

Just flew out to Austin this week for a job interview with a company. I discovered that Austin has a very lively downtown with an excellent nightlife scene! Needless to say, I had to check out several of the bars and live bands. Am now finally home and resting up. After all, I'm no longer 20!

Belize Adventure Part 2

On September 10, I wrote that I would continue my saga "tomorrow" - just to let you know that I meant that in the most Spanish sense of "manyana" since today is not "tomorrow".
Did I tell you we had had a "yard sale" and sold every bit of our furniture, all my knick-knacks and years worth of books? I threw out the last of my business suits, put on my flipflops and off we went! Almost clipping the freeway wall as we entered the freeway, I realized I should give it a little more berth as I turned. After all, my vehicle is suddenly 52 feet long and no longer my zippy little Jeep Grand Cherokee.

We made it all the way past Truth or Consequences before one of the vehicles decided to get sick. Bring on Bob, my most trusty car-fixer-upper. With a little Bondo and a lot of patience, we once more were the proud owners of a fully-functioning heap. Today, while writing this blog, for the sake of a trip down memory lane, I tried to find the RV Park we stayed at. It was memorable because it had a laundry - yes, that was the highlight of my stay. Look up Arrey RV Park in Arrey, NM. A scintillating snack machine stood at attention just at the entrance to the laundry facility. My children were, of course immediately drawn to this monument to carbs.
Onward then the next day through Las Cruces to the flea pit of the earth - El Paso! If you have not already experienced the general "treelessness" of New Mexico, may I suggest that you postpone a visit to El Paso until you learn to live with the dust and forelornness of the high desert. From the freeway to the left is capitalism at its best; from the right - the Rio Grande, Mexico, and for the most part, extreme poverty. It's scorching hot - 105 degrees, with the sun reflecting off the patched tin roofs of the shacks on the Mexico side. Youths, mothers and children, entire families are wading across the Rio Grande, heading directly towards border guards with rifles aimed and cocked, sitting behind bulletproof glass shields mounted at the side of the street. The newcomers veer to the left or right, hoping to be the one who gets through the patrol. After all, you just need to do it once and all your worries are over, right?
On we drive, somber now, through road construction and lanes so narrow on I-10 I far that I will "take out" the neighboring vehicle.
More to follow

Socialism in the USA

Well, they told me it would never happen. The good ole USA is too capitalist EVER to involve itself (visibly and directly, not counting tax and other regulatory measures) in private business. I feel like I'm back in England before Margaret Thatcher!!!! I understand it's "just a loan" - secured against what exactly? And what if AIG fails anyway? As for Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, who says I want my taxpayer dollars to go to bail out bad loans on homes I don't own? What are the criteria for government bailouts, do you think? Bad publicity and bad press for the USA, for one. Can you think of more?

My mid- life crisis

I told you I'd relate some of my exciting travel adventures to you so I'll start with my mid-life crisis trip to Belize, Central America. One evening, at the US Foodservice food show in Albuquerque, New Mexico, I won a Harley. I never won anything in my life previously! What am I to do with this gift, I thought? A mother of 3 who drives a car badly - what hope do I have on a motorcycle at 70MPH? Besides which, you have constant bad hair days and helmet hair. My husband, of course, came to the rescue and offered to ride it on behalf of the family. That clinched it - I couldn't let my husband have fun, that would never do, so I sold it back to the dealership. I had money burning a hole in my pocket so I decided on a nice family vacation. My dear friend in England, Sally Johnson, had once told me of a place far, far away (we were drunk at University so it sounded really good!) where the beaches went forever and the ocean was as blue as the sky. Belize it was! We traveled to Journey's End at Ambergris Key - it was lovely. My husband had done some research on property in Belize before we went. Back on the mainland, we visited the property he had looked at on the internet. Bare, naked beach with jungle directly behind it. Wow, just like a scene from Survivor! Naturally, we just had to light a fire and BBQ some freshly caught fish - with sand as a condiment, I might add. We peed in a hole we dug, we made out a little, we swatted mosquitos, and we decided to buy the vacant lot!
We returned to the States, I gave 6 months notice at my company - I was Chief Operating Officer so it's hard just to quit. I had to arrange a buyout before I left. June 2005 arrived and we had sold our house, all our belongings, bought a motor home and packed it with the kids' toys. We had 2 boats (one aluminum and one cigar boat), a trailer with bikes on it, a van, and the motor home. My dear spouse, Bob, decided that I should drive the Dodge custom van with the speedboat hooked up behind it with no practice - note the comment earlier that I drive badly! He drove the motor home with the trailer behind it. We had planned our route through Mexico with these machines and 3 kids. We had walkie talkies to converse with each other in our vehicles. Were we prepared? You betcha!
More tomorrow......................................... about our trip through Mexico and onto our very own beachfront property on the Caribbean......

Early pickup day from school today

Well, this is my very first blog and I'm realizing I have to type on average 20% faster today beacuse I lose 1 hour of free time. Yes, Wednesdays are early kid pickup days. Of course, that also means I can have a beer 1 hour earlier too!