A couple of weeks ago, I took $200 out of the bank (in the form of two $100 bills) to give to a friend who had been so kind to sell me her sofa, a desk, and a birthing tub (don't ask!). It was about all I could afford to give her, but I wanted to pay her something for offloading all of this stuff on me (great stuff, by the way), so I figured I could manage $200 for the moment. Then she went out of town with her family and I never got a chance to pay her.
Now, she called me this past weekend, and I called her up today, thinking I could stop by and give her the money. She has been gracious enough to say, "No, don't worry about it, pay me when you can," but I hate being that person who owes someone else money. Anyway, I take a look in my wallet and one of the $100 bills is missing. I am livid.
I had checked in my wallet a few days ago because I was restocking my vegan creamer and tea bags, and sure enough, the money was there. Then I went to the CRL party, and while I didn't check my wallet there, if someone had wanted to steal it out in public (and judging from the crowd, I seriously doubt anyone there would have done such a thing), they would have taken both $100s, right? I mean, why go in the wallet and just take one?
The other possible scenario, the one I find most disturbing and also most likely, is that the maid took it. This has not been the first time money has gone missing from my wallet since she's been working for us. The first time, a 5,000 colones note was gone, and although I was sure it had been in there before she got there, I was equally sure I might have miscalculated, and perhaps it wasn't in there in the first place. The next time it was 10,000 colones, and this time a $100 bill. I have heard that maids who rip you off will do that, take just one bill to make it seem as though you might be mistaken, you might question yourself. But who the hell doesn't miss a $100 bill? Not me! I miss it! That is a lot of groceries (at least a couple of weeks' worth for my family), several bags of dog and cat food, many tanks of gas for my car. That is money I worked hard to earn. I am not independently wealthy, and what irks me is that, if it was the maid who took it, she thinks I won't miss such a large amount of money. Not to mention the feeling of being violated when someone has been in your purse, digging around in your things looking for money to steal. It's not the first time I've been robbed, but every time it feels quite similar. I guess the amount of irritation is proportional to how much one has been violated. When our house was broken into in the middle of the afternoon while I was taking a shower (never live in Rohrmoser if you can help it!), I had nightmares about the men who came into my house for years. I am only now able to recall that I had a gun in my face without breaking into a cold sweat. So truthfully, taking $100 out of my purse was nothing compared to that experience.
At any rate, she will be fired by esposo when he gets home tonight. No more second chances. I've freaking had it.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Friday, January 26, 2007
Love is in the Air
If you thought the cockroach was huge, how about this baby?
I guess this is one of the problems with living in the dry forest: bugs, and plenty of them! We get lots of geckos (I like those, actually), other spiders, giant cockroaches, several species of ants, centipedes, scorpions, and these crazy hairy black caterpillars that seem to pass through the house once a year, though this is the first tarantula I've seen. Esposo tells me they are not really dangerous (just big and hairy and yucky, OKAY!), yet he won't pick it up to take it outside. Two-and-a-half-year-old son is first to alert us to the tarantula, saying "Stider, look Mommy, a stider!"
Um, yeah, that's one big stider all right! Esposo thinks he will get a mug (a MUG! can you believe it? the thing was too big to even fit in a mug!) to get it outside, but I sort of think a dustpan and broom will work better. Rather large and hairy tarantula, however, has other ideas, and rears up on its back legs, waving its fangs and front legs threateningly at esposo. Just lovely.
I remember to grab the camera before said tarantula is out of our lives for good (hopefully!), and really, it is so big that it gets redeye from the flash! Later, esposo chides me, saying, "Oh gee honey, you should have set the anti-redeye on the camera." Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking about right at that moment!
Finally esposo manages to get it out of the house and dump it unceremoniously over the side wall. I hear, however, that tarantulas only come out of their hidey-holes to look for mates and eat, and if it was in the house, it's probably looking for a mate. Does this mean tarantula love is in the air and I can expect the pitter-patter of baby tarantula feet someday soon?
Don't fire 'till you see the whites of their eyes, boys!
I guess this is one of the problems with living in the dry forest: bugs, and plenty of them! We get lots of geckos (I like those, actually), other spiders, giant cockroaches, several species of ants, centipedes, scorpions, and these crazy hairy black caterpillars that seem to pass through the house once a year, though this is the first tarantula I've seen. Esposo tells me they are not really dangerous (just big and hairy and yucky, OKAY!), yet he won't pick it up to take it outside. Two-and-a-half-year-old son is first to alert us to the tarantula, saying "Stider, look Mommy, a stider!"
Um, yeah, that's one big stider all right! Esposo thinks he will get a mug (a MUG! can you believe it? the thing was too big to even fit in a mug!) to get it outside, but I sort of think a dustpan and broom will work better. Rather large and hairy tarantula, however, has other ideas, and rears up on its back legs, waving its fangs and front legs threateningly at esposo. Just lovely.
I remember to grab the camera before said tarantula is out of our lives for good (hopefully!), and really, it is so big that it gets redeye from the flash! Later, esposo chides me, saying, "Oh gee honey, you should have set the anti-redeye on the camera." Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking about right at that moment!
Finally esposo manages to get it out of the house and dump it unceremoniously over the side wall. I hear, however, that tarantulas only come out of their hidey-holes to look for mates and eat, and if it was in the house, it's probably looking for a mate. Does this mean tarantula love is in the air and I can expect the pitter-patter of baby tarantula feet someday soon?
Some good news, for a change
Seems one of the rebel factions in the Congo has agreed to stop killing and eating mountain gorillas.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Even Princess Shopaholic has a bad day once in a while
I have decided to turn over a new leaf and try to view my remaining time in Costa Rica as a positive thing. I am going to be positive. I really, truly am. Positively positive, that's me!
So I bought this gorgeous top/shirt/blouse thing at my favorite boutique in Costa Rica, Guarana, which is in the Via Lindora shopping center (along with playplace extraordinare Gymbo and the ever-delicious Pasteleria Eiffel). Before Christmas, I'd spotted said shirt while on a reconnaissance mission with my friend while our kids played at Gymbo in the very capable hands of Alex, who could have cared less, most likely, about fawning over lovely clothing in a women's boutique. Said shirt was in window on mannequin, and I was fairly sure I needed it, what with the holidays and all, one should have at least one nice going-out-in shirt. Yes, it was $60, but I rationalized the expenditure as 1) that's still damn cheap for a boutique, 2) I could wear it with anything from flowy black pants to jeans, and 3) it was just really nice and I had to have it! Christmas came and went, and I'd spent all the money I had on things like food, rent and gifts for son, and still my shirt hung in the window, looking sad, waiting for me to rescue it from its post. "Buy me, take me home, wear me, love me," I could hear it calling. But it was not to be.
After the New Year, I finally had a little cash to spend on myself (merry Christmas to me!), and went straight to Guarana for my lovely shirt. Perhaps I should back up and explain lovely shirt in a little more detail. It is a gorgeous thing to behold, sheer fabric, plunging neckline, embroidered with flowers... Anyway, Guarana was closed until January 6th, and I went in that day, and discovered my shirt was no longer in the window! But, good news -- there was one left and it was 20% off! So I bought it.
Fast-forward to today (January 23), and I feel like wearing my lovely shirt. I'd told myself that I could wear it with anything, even jeans, so I dig a pair of old, worn Gap denim out of the closet and pair them with a cute little black tank top and my lovely shirt. I feel like Shopaholic. Or a princess. Or Princess Shopaholic. Whatever, I feel great! I decided to take my son out to lunch at another of our favorite spots, Giacomin, because I need to pay my cable bill and who would not look glamorous paying their bills in such a shirt?
In the parking lot (I've found a spot an aisle away but directly in front of Giacomin), as I'm getting my son out of the car, a big green Honda CRV starts pulling out of her space. I can see that she's about to back into my car, but I figure, she could pull in, so she should be able to pull out, right? Wrong! Right into my front bumper this moron goes, cracking it and bending my license plate in the process. I start waving at her to stop, but she just takes off. I am so freaking pissed. Then some silly girl (who apparently works at AutoMercado, judging from her hideous red shirt) passes by and starts telling me that I should stop worrying, she didn't hit the car, nothing's wrong, blah blah blah (in English, except for the "blah blah" part). I look at her and say, "What are you talking about? She cracked the bumper! Look!" Silly byatch then looks at the bumper, feels slightly idiotic (as well she should), says, "oh..." and drives away.
All I can do is sigh.
And as usual, I've forgotten my cell phone so I can't even call esposo to find out what I should do. At any rate, I managed to have enough presence of mind to get the license plate of this woman's car, and will be filing out a hit-and-run report. (Was it mere coincidence that I found that MOPT website just a few days ago? I think not!)
Lunch at Giacomin was nice, though the whole "cracking the bumper and taking off" thing put quite a damper on it. I paid my cable bill, and then went home, feeling not so much like Princess Shopaholic after all. Oh well, there will always be another opportunity to wear a great shirt.
So I bought this gorgeous top/shirt/blouse thing at my favorite boutique in Costa Rica, Guarana, which is in the Via Lindora shopping center (along with playplace extraordinare Gymbo and the ever-delicious Pasteleria Eiffel). Before Christmas, I'd spotted said shirt while on a reconnaissance mission with my friend while our kids played at Gymbo in the very capable hands of Alex, who could have cared less, most likely, about fawning over lovely clothing in a women's boutique. Said shirt was in window on mannequin, and I was fairly sure I needed it, what with the holidays and all, one should have at least one nice going-out-in shirt. Yes, it was $60, but I rationalized the expenditure as 1) that's still damn cheap for a boutique, 2) I could wear it with anything from flowy black pants to jeans, and 3) it was just really nice and I had to have it! Christmas came and went, and I'd spent all the money I had on things like food, rent and gifts for son, and still my shirt hung in the window, looking sad, waiting for me to rescue it from its post. "Buy me, take me home, wear me, love me," I could hear it calling. But it was not to be.
After the New Year, I finally had a little cash to spend on myself (merry Christmas to me!), and went straight to Guarana for my lovely shirt. Perhaps I should back up and explain lovely shirt in a little more detail. It is a gorgeous thing to behold, sheer fabric, plunging neckline, embroidered with flowers... Anyway, Guarana was closed until January 6th, and I went in that day, and discovered my shirt was no longer in the window! But, good news -- there was one left and it was 20% off! So I bought it.
Fast-forward to today (January 23), and I feel like wearing my lovely shirt. I'd told myself that I could wear it with anything, even jeans, so I dig a pair of old, worn Gap denim out of the closet and pair them with a cute little black tank top and my lovely shirt. I feel like Shopaholic. Or a princess. Or Princess Shopaholic. Whatever, I feel great! I decided to take my son out to lunch at another of our favorite spots, Giacomin, because I need to pay my cable bill and who would not look glamorous paying their bills in such a shirt?
In the parking lot (I've found a spot an aisle away but directly in front of Giacomin), as I'm getting my son out of the car, a big green Honda CRV starts pulling out of her space. I can see that she's about to back into my car, but I figure, she could pull in, so she should be able to pull out, right? Wrong! Right into my front bumper this moron goes, cracking it and bending my license plate in the process. I start waving at her to stop, but she just takes off. I am so freaking pissed. Then some silly girl (who apparently works at AutoMercado, judging from her hideous red shirt) passes by and starts telling me that I should stop worrying, she didn't hit the car, nothing's wrong, blah blah blah (in English, except for the "blah blah" part). I look at her and say, "What are you talking about? She cracked the bumper! Look!" Silly byatch then looks at the bumper, feels slightly idiotic (as well she should), says, "oh..." and drives away.
All I can do is sigh.
And as usual, I've forgotten my cell phone so I can't even call esposo to find out what I should do. At any rate, I managed to have enough presence of mind to get the license plate of this woman's car, and will be filing out a hit-and-run report. (Was it mere coincidence that I found that MOPT website just a few days ago? I think not!)
Lunch at Giacomin was nice, though the whole "cracking the bumper and taking off" thing put quite a damper on it. I paid my cable bill, and then went home, feeling not so much like Princess Shopaholic after all. Oh well, there will always be another opportunity to wear a great shirt.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Giving Props, Again
Yesterday I took two furbabies into the town vet (Dr. Rojas of Ciudad Colon, in case anyone out there is looking for a great vet). Tiny, a little old chihuahua mix, has been having incontinence issues, and Sebastian looked to have an infected tooth. I knew it would be somewhat of a challenge, having a toddler in tow and with esposo working and all, but I didn't want to put off the appointment any longer (which, by the way, I called to get that morning and got for that afternoon).
He first took a look at Tiny, thought that her inability to hold it could be due to a urinary tract infection or possibly just old age. So he decided to try antibiotics first, and if it didn't go away, we would try hormone therapy (which worked really well when my first chihuahua, dearest sweetest Lucy, had the same problem). Then he clipped Tiny's nails, checked her vitals, ears, etc. and said she looked pretty good for a girl her age, otherwise.
Then came Sebastian (aka Boo Boo Man, or Boo for short), and he's really getting up there in age -- almost 18 years old at this point. He looks kind of a mess -- matted hair, bad breath, dandruff -- but really he's not in bad shape at all. He's a pretty tough little guy, even though another vet gave him a few months to live two and a half years ago. However, when Dr. R. said that we'd probably have to pull the tooth, I was worried, because that meant he'd have to go under anesthesia. So again, we're going to try a round of antibiotics first, to see if the infection goes away. If not, then he'll have to go back.
For a visit like this in California, with two animals, I'd expect to pay about $75-100, maybe more, including medications. Yesterday's visit was 10,500 colones, or less than $20. As I was leaving, I remembered to ask about a worm pill for Livvy, which he didn't even charge me for. How nice! Good, inexpensive veterinary service is one thing I will really miss when we leave Costa Rica, especially with all these dogs and cats we've got.
He first took a look at Tiny, thought that her inability to hold it could be due to a urinary tract infection or possibly just old age. So he decided to try antibiotics first, and if it didn't go away, we would try hormone therapy (which worked really well when my first chihuahua, dearest sweetest Lucy, had the same problem). Then he clipped Tiny's nails, checked her vitals, ears, etc. and said she looked pretty good for a girl her age, otherwise.
Then came Sebastian (aka Boo Boo Man, or Boo for short), and he's really getting up there in age -- almost 18 years old at this point. He looks kind of a mess -- matted hair, bad breath, dandruff -- but really he's not in bad shape at all. He's a pretty tough little guy, even though another vet gave him a few months to live two and a half years ago. However, when Dr. R. said that we'd probably have to pull the tooth, I was worried, because that meant he'd have to go under anesthesia. So again, we're going to try a round of antibiotics first, to see if the infection goes away. If not, then he'll have to go back.
For a visit like this in California, with two animals, I'd expect to pay about $75-100, maybe more, including medications. Yesterday's visit was 10,500 colones, or less than $20. As I was leaving, I remembered to ask about a worm pill for Livvy, which he didn't even charge me for. How nice! Good, inexpensive veterinary service is one thing I will really miss when we leave Costa Rica, especially with all these dogs and cats we've got.
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