Where's the seafood?

It seems simple enough. You want fresh seafood so just go down to the beach and catch some. What many people don't realize is during the "rainy" season, the rivers flow into the sea creating very dirty waters. Fishermen, hmmm should I say fisher-people to be PC, that have boats can get further away from the river mouths and get to blue water to find the delicious tuna, snapper and flying fish. But for those, like my husband, who simply swim a mile or two out with a spear gun, the water is too murky to see. With impaired vision like this, they are unable to see the dangers around them such as sharp reefs, sting rays, sharks, etc. So what this means, is that six months of the year during rainy season we are forced to buy our seafood rather than just catching it on our own. My husband can make a fairly good living at fishing during the dry season, but he has to find alternative methods during the rainy season. That's why we also operate a small vegetable farm and sell sea moss to clients around the world. If you are interested in the many benefits of adding sea moss to your diet, by all means check out our website at http://betafe.farming.officelive.com/default.aspx

Living without Highlights

As I was working today, the television murmured in the background. I recognized Oprah's voice and looked up to see if her guest was anyone I was interested in hearing more about. She was interviewing an attractive blond-haired woman with several children who had recently lost her job. She was discussing going from an upwardly mobile middle class lifestyle to a much lower spot on the economic scale because of this enormous financial loss. One thing she said really struck me. She was talking about going to the unemployment office and how she could tell the newer patrons by whether or not they still had their hair highlighted. Those with highlights had only recently been laid off where those who have no highlights had long since given up the right to have that well-coiffed shiny-ness with perfectly woven streaks of blond and were reduced to the $5.99 box of hair color from the local drug store.

Of course! When I lost my well-paying corporate job, that was the first thing I had to really consider. How will I pay for my highlights? How will I keep my standing appointment at my uber cool salon every 6 weeks? And as I was considering a move to the Caribbean, who in that third world country will be able to replicate this gorgeous "Dallas" blond shade that can only be found in North Texas? I know,you are thinking how incredibly vain this sounds but seriously, it was a big deal. And as much as I hate to admit it, it still is.

This summer a friend planned a visit from California. She warned me in advance that she had not been able to afford to go to a stylist in a while so her hair was not exactly "up to par." I assured her that I had gotten pretty good at self coloring and I would see what I could do to make her feel human again. We found a close match to her natural blond at a beauty supply store and the result was really pretty. She liked it, but did seem a little sad that it still didn't have those glistening highlights that she adored from "the good old pre-recession days."

And only a few weeks ago, a friend mentioned on several occasions that my hair looked nice, but I really should get it highlighted. Highlights just make a girl happy. Highlights just brighten your mood, and apparently everyone else that is forced to look at you. Had we all become so vain? It is no longer enough to cover those hateful gray hairs that seem to pop up around my face like acne on a teenager, but no, now my success and attractiveness are based on highlights. Highlights are expensive. My dogs really would starve if I were forced to keep up highlights on a regular monthly schedule...at least until I write and publish that novel.

The poor single-colored-hair-lady on Oprah also mentioned the lack of a nice manicure. Now that is one thing that I have done for myself for years and no one would ever know that I don't see a manicurist weekly. My nails are strong, long and fantastic and look even better than those plastic fobs most women wear. No I'm OK about the lack of a manicure, but a pedicure is a whole different story. No matter how good I am at manicures, it is virtually impossible for a woman to do her own pedicure. Lord, even my 82 year old father regularly has a pedicure, and loves it, especially the nice glass of Merlot they serve while the Vietnamese ladies massage his pasty white calves.

I thought in the Caribbean that no one would really notice my hair or nails but they do. In fact, my Caribbean husband even begged me to highlight his hair! The first attempt turned out so well that he regularly asks me to do it again. I wish I could remember which box I bought that first try, because it has never looked that good again. He too felt shiny, happy, healthy and successful with a few well spaced highlights.

My BFF, the Duchess, came over for a girl's night recently and apologized that she was wearing ballet slippers because "she hadn't had time for a pedicure" lately. I shrugged that off since I am now incapable of wearing anything but sandals and flip-flops and boldly responded that "I don't even bother about that anymore!" Liar. I will head straight to Sally's Beauty Supply as soon as my paypal account is fed.

Mysterious Caribbean Death

Yesterday morning my husband was working in the garden and I was up in my usual spot on the hill admiring the beautiful sea while I played with the puppies. Johnny was walking quickly to the house and yelled out to me "Emergency, come!"

As I made my way down the hill through the pile of bouncing puppies I wondered which nephew had gotten into trouble now or was Papa ill again. I asked Johnny,"what emergency, who, what happened?" He said "It's Joe." Well we had an elderly neighbor named Joe, so my mind immediatley went to him. I asked "Joe William?"

Johnny said, "No, OUR Joe! Dead." I was shocked into a rare silence. Not our Joe. This must be some kind of mistake. Johnny quickly changed his clothes and said, "I'm out." No tears even came to my eyes as I sat dumbfounded at how this relatively young man could be gone from our lives so suddenly. I could not wrap my head around the fact that he wouldn't be coming around asking for a cigarette or some cold water.

Joe loved Pearl, Johnny's sister. He worshipped the ground she walked on. They had three boys together. Pearl became very ill and went to New York for treatment. The cancer took over her body and she died in New York. Joe was really never the same.

When Johnny brought me to St Lucia, Joe fell in love with me right away. He saw Pearl when he looked at me. He told me this. Our personalities were apparently very similar, although we did not resemble each other physically. I'm white, she was Indian for one thing. But Joe would lay down his life for me. Anytime he was near, he would look for an opportunity to take care of me, to gently pull a stray strand of hair from my face, to lift any load for me.


Joe certainly had his faults like all of us do. He was an alocholic as so many Caribbean men are. The rum. bwe wum...drink rum, in Patois. He was always trying to drown the sorrows of losing Pearl. Joe came from a very large family and they had a lot of hardships. There must have been about 10 children and half of them are mentally challenged, probably from fetal alcohol syndrome. Joe and his two sisters were the fortunate few who did not have this handicap. But with both parents dead early in life, Joe's life was always a struggle to help take care of the other less fortunate brothers and sisters.

When the children were very young, they lived on the land in a small shack where my house now stands. Joe's father kept a large herd of cattle that roamed the grassy valley near the river. One young sister slipped from the banks of that river near our home and drowned trying to free herself from the murkey water.

Late Saturday night and into the wee hours of Sunday morning Joe's sister looked out the window of her home and saw two young men dragging Joe into his tiny broken down little wooden house. She assumed he had passed out drunk and the guys were just getting him to his bed. Later in the morning she went to his house, behind her larger and grander home, to get the $150EC that she was to buy pigs with. She found him dead, pockets turned out of his jeans and the money gone. There was a lot of blood.

He was face down in the blood. Did he accidentally suffocate himself? Was he dead when the boys brought him home? His head and one hand were very black. Because his dilapidated home was leaning so seriously down hill, and he slept with his head in that down hill position was it possible that this forced the blood to rush to his head? Had he been rolled? We had a lot of questions. It was apparent that his sister didn't give a damn about him. Neighbors said she had been refusing him food lately. While she lived in the spotless concrete home with the other brothers, Joe had been relegated to the back yard where he built a ramshackle little one room house with no water or electricity. No toilet or shower.

When we went to pay our respects yesterday evening, Johnny pointed out the little house where Joe had lived. He wanted me to photograph it. It was pitiful. I had no idea that these were the conditions he was living in. This man who was the first person on our doorstep when we needed to move from our rent house to our new home. This man personally made certain every one of my many boxes and furniture were safely moved. This man who was also the first to show up and help us build our house. The house I am sitting in today has nails Joe hammered into place. The land my house is sitting on was given to us by Joe. Although in the government's eyes he didn't actually own it to give, his family had been squatters on it for decades.

Johnny and I really cared about Joe. We made sure his belly was always full, he had a cigarette when he craved one and even a shot of rum when he asked. At least when he was with us he was not abandoned. Little did I know his circumstances when he wasn't with us. I had never been to their home until last night. I had never met his sisters until last night. They were kind of shocked to meet me, they had never even seen me in all the three years I've lived here.

Joe is with Pearl now. Probably where he has dreamed of being for several years. He left behind three sad young sons, all in their early 20's, and my god-daughter is his grand daughter only two years old. My eyes sting and my chest feels so heavy when I think about what Joe's last night on earth may have been like. One of the young men told the police that he died in his arms. The other said he was alive when they took him home. The police arrested the two men twice yesterday and twice they were released. I don't know if we'll ever know the truth about Joe's death. The police don't really have the forensic tools available to do DNA or fingerprinting here. When I photographed his house just hours after his death, there was no yellow tape - it was just as Joe had left it.

The police really don't care. You won't hear this story on the news, not even locally. To the police, he was just another poor laborer who's life didn't matter. Joe's life did matter. Every human being's life matters. And everyone's death deserves attention. I hope the autopsy clears some of the mystery. The street boys in Pomme are gearing up for a war. If indeed this was a murder, there will be more. They want revenge and I am sure they will not stop until they get it.

This is the way of life in a poor Third World country. An eye for an eye. When the police fail to uophold the law, it is society who steps in to become judge and jury. Street law rules here.

In Caribbean tradition, I poured the first sip of my drink on the ground for Joe. Johnny and I toasted and drank the rest at Joe's favorite bar in his memory. That's the way he would have wanted it. Rest in peace my friend.

"Trust in God" Lost at Sea

Well this is a huge shot in the dark but I will put it out there for the universe to help me.

My St Lucian husband has three family members missing at sea. Johnny's uncle and two young cousins put out to sea from Vieux Fort, St Lucia this past Monday morning, June 23, 2008 at 3:00 a.m. in a very small fishing boat named "Trust in God." Later that same morning another sailor said he passed them and they were headed for tuna in the waters near St Vincent. They have not been seen since.

The local news finally aired it last night, 4 days after the fact. I phoned the St Lucia Coast Guard this morning just to hear with my own ears that they had alerted the surrounding islands to be on the lookout. I asked if they had alerted the flight dispatchers at the surrounding airports to let small aircraft be on the look out. They assured me they had contacted all the necessary parties.

I know a lot of my friends are still affiliated with American/American Eagle. If you know of any pilots flying the Caribbean or if you can let SJU, MIA, UVF, BGI ...ok I'm forgetting my city codes now... St Vincent, Martinique, St Luca, Barbados, dispatchers know we would be really grateful. We are certain they are without fresh water at this point.

Please pray for the safe return of "Trust in God" and the three brave men aboard her.

I was looking around at some other blogs this morning and decided to mark one with Stumble Upon. A page came up and asked me what my interests were and this is what I checked:

Bizarre/oddities
Conspiracies
Gardening
Food/Wine
Liberties/Rights
Library Resources
Photography
Interior Design
Literature
Humor
Buddhism
Paranormal
Writing
Travel
Vegetarian

Now I’m not a Buddhist or a vegetarian but I do enjoy reading about these subjects. But what struck me was how easy I could be summed up. I have been struggling with my resume my entire adult life. I’m really good at trumpeting other people’s skills but not my own. So therefore, I think my resume sucks and that is why I haven’t been offered any kind of real job that I’m interested in, in a long time! But am I really interested in a real job? I guess that depends on how you define “real job.” My conservative friends define it as getting up at 6:00a.m., guzzling down a cup of Joe, dressing to the nines with makeup and trendy office clothes, slipping on some hazardous heals, trendy accessories to go with the trendy clothes and of course the perfect designer non-leather handbag. Then off to work in your gas guzzling SUV which you park in a covered parking garage and zip up an elevator to your holding cell in the sky.

Oh sorry, I may have gotten a little carried away there. But remember, I’m the girl who walked away from all that and am now living in a little slanted wooden cottage on top of a vegetable farm overlooking the Caribbean. I don’t mean to gloat(well maybe a little),but take your pick. To each his own right?

Back to the subject of the above list.

Not that the above interests have anything whatsoever to do with skills and achievements I would list on a resume. But no, the above list is kind of a life resume. Wouldn’t it really be better for a perspective employer to know who you really are instead of what looks good on paper? Sadly, I guess not.

Having come from a Human Resource background myself, I know that a recruiter could care less about your life work, human skills, hobbies or interests. When it comes right down to it, these interests reflect a lot about who you are, what motivates you, what you are passionate about, and what resonates within you.

I had a boss once, who I’ll call Amarosa because of the incredible similarities in personality of that beastly woman on Donald Trump’s show, and she was very analytical and numbers driven. I am obviously not THAT. I am very creative and cry when I have to look at numbers too long. Ask my Dad.

Anyway Amarosa hired me because she saw the creativity in me immediately when we interviewed. She even later showed me her interview notes where she wrote in large letters diagonally across the page “VERY CREATIVE!” But yet we practically went to blows on occasion when I didn’t produce the statistical reports she wanted in the way she wanted. I even hired a consultant to come in to the department and do one of those behavioral assessments on each team member to show her that she was a BLUE Analytical type and I was a sunny Yellow Creative type and we needed to respect that about each other. In other words, do not expect this happy creative yellow to be able to conquer the statistics and numbers like a Blue person such as herself could do. It will take me three times longer and the results will not be anywhere near as precision perfect as the Blue person’s would be.

Needless to say I went running out of there with my hair on fire! And in retrospect I say Thank God!

So you folks who are hiring need to listen up. Just because someone has credentials, associations and degrees that look marvelous on paper, look a little bit deeper. Perhaps part of the screening process SHOULD include interests. It will tell you a lot about a person that may not necessarily come up. If anything, it will certainly spark some interesting dialogue. And for those of you beating your brains out in a job you hate, maybe you should study your list of interests and if your line of work isn’t on there, get out! Get out now while you still have enough sanity left to do it. It may be a struggle, mine certainly has been, but I sure have a hell of a lot more fun. Isn’t that what life’s all about anyway?

P.S. I don’t know why I clicked on Paranormal and Conspiracy – I thought it might be fun to see what kind of blogs it would send me to.

Best Thing since Sliced Bread!

When I moved to the Caribbean, I thought I would still be connected, hip, in touch with the rest of the world. I had NO idea! I went to the only phone company on the island and found out that there wasn't any phone lines available in my community and that my neighbor had been on the waiting list for 8 years, yes EIGHT YEARS for a phone! And of course here in St Lucia a phone is a prerequisite for the internet.



So finally after three years(I got lucky), I have internet and phone service and now I'm blogging. So what about the title and the bread thing? Well, I do still like to phone home occasionallly and the cost is steep to call St Lucia from anywhere. This is where the bread thing comes in. Someone mentioned that Oprah mentioned Skype and I checked it out. Well lordy I am here to tell you this is the coolest thing I've run across, except of course this free blog website which put me here.



Now I have happy hours regularly with my friends in Dallas, talk to good ole Mom every day and not only is it completely free but with a little webcam attached to my laptop, I get to see them as well. Hardly a reason to even fly home now except to get those fresh tortillas.