Turns out I am a freak show

 "Can you believe she's eighty?  Wow, you don't look that old."

But I do in the mirror.  I no longer walk more than five miles easily. My skin is disgusting.

Other families allow me to be a part of them.  My own has little or nothing to do with me.

My Spanish is laughably bad.  Local ladies in my age group just rattle along as if someday I'll know what they are saying.  The kids giggle.  Chuy asks his uncle "what does she think she is saying?"

Many of the people in my daily encounters seem to think I'm okay.  Laundry, including the owner, appear to appreciate my business.  My several regular eateries greet me warmly.  At Quack Burgers they  know my usual order.

I have made a conscious effort to create daily connections.  I have a regular bacon smoking guy from Argentina.  He waves and/or visits with me even on days I can't afford two hundred pesos for killer bacon.

My taxi driver waves and smiles  a greeting even though I almost never splurge for a taxi ride.

After three years here I'm ridiculously comfortable in a country whose language I haven't learned. 

I've milked that old saw that even if you're poor you can enjoy the luxury of wealthy friends.

Of course, I've also been criticized for eating well tho' poor.  When you live in a beautiful city with fabulous restaurants it would be a shame not to step out of your income zone occasionally.

My "juice kids" greet me warmly, know my order and remember that I contributed a gift at Maria Fernanda's baby shower.  She's walking and talking now.  

I miss my Xuitla folkloric families.  Sweet Lia, challenges and accomplishments I can only see on Facebook.  I hope we reconnect.

Crazy too, my dead best friend's mom and sister have adopted me and try to cheer me with memes, in Spanish, that are hard to copy to either of my two translation apps.  I am so glad he told them about me.

Sometimes I think that Peggy Lee's "Is that all there is?" is my theme song and then I remember The Bay, the sunsets, the rivers and the flowers and decide that it is enough.

I just want the ones that care about me to understand that I appreciate them.  But if I die tomorrow, that's okay too.

I am awake at four in the morning because the antibiotic I'm taking to get rid of bronchitis upsets my stomach and messes with my sleep.

Another very busy week in the books, fabulous Thanksgiving dinner and visit with the James' in El Tuito.  Easily the most eclectic group I've ever encountered.  Invited because Americans shouldn't have to eat turkey alone and the young French couple seemed to enjoy their first version of the eating holiday.  First encounter with a deadly serious "vegan" who was blown away by the incredible vegan delicacies Melinda prepared for him.

I've now had four Thanksgivings in Puerto Vallarta.  One at the Jardin Botanica with the Episcopal priest who was here but comes from Texas and knows folks I know.  

I guess the bottom line is that I am glad I found a place where even a freak can live.

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