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It’s nearly five in the morning, and Zorro isn’t doing very well. He’s been coughing nonstop all day, the first time he’s shown any symptoms of his heart murmur. The pet sitter didn’t mention any coughing, and we didn’t notice anything bad on Saturday, but today it’s been pretty awful. Of course the vet is closed.

I’ve emailed them, though I’m not sure if they’re open today, and I’ll call them as soon as their opening hour hits, and I resorted to giving the dog a benadryl to knock him out as we are out of valium, and I don’t know what else to do.

This isn’t a normal small-dog reverse-sneeze sort of coughing, but the canine equivalent of hacking up a lung, and what’s worse is that it’s not even the kind of congestion you get from a cold, but a symptom that his heart murmur is worsening. Those of you who’ve known us for a while know that we’re not sure of Zorro’s exact age – he could be anywhere between nine and thirteen, and eleven is probably the most accurate estimate. Those of you who’ve been reading this for a while also know that he’s been through epilepsy that involved cluster seizures so bad our vet had been preparing us to put him down six years ago, though he’s been seizure free for five years now.

If we’re lucky, the vet will work with us, and Zorro will get some nice drugs to help the heart congestion. Either something cortisone based or the drug LASIX that is used for race-horses.

If you’re reading this, please send my little Zorro-dog some comforting healing energy. He’s a sweet little guy, who cooperates with vets, doesn’t bite, and lives for cuddling, walkies, and pieces of cheese. He’s been part of our family for ten years, and he’s special.

One of conversations we had with my parents was about the fact that they get most American movies in English with Spanish subtitling, unless they’re perceived as “children’s” films, in which case, there are Spanish-language versions (dubbed) with the occasional showing in English, which you can find if you read the movie schedule carefully. However, as I wrote a few days ago, the title of the films are often translated, and some of the translations can be quite perplexing.

This conversation returned as one of many subjects that came up during dinner last night, when Helen mentioned that it’s the same in Chinese, where often, the translated titles have no resemblance to the American version of the name.

That aside, I have a great fondness for foreign films, and while many are actually in English – like The Lover, which is one of my favorite movies ever, others come in two flavors, dubbed and subtitled. Almost always, I prefer the subtitled versions, because the voices never match the actors correctly, both in flavor and in synchronization, and that bothers me.

Favorite subtitled movies?
La Cage Aux Folles, the original one, of course.
Amalie, did anyone not love it?
Mostly Martha, a cooking film. I like cooking films.
Avenue Montaigne, I watched this a while ago, and now want to see it again.

Any suggestions?

I have to admit, when I heard about a car donation organization that used the money to make children’s videos promoting good values, I was a little bit leery. I mean, yes, I attend church, but that doesn’t mean I agree with everything taught there.

But then I got deeper into reading about Car Angel / Boat Angel, and their organization Car Angel Ministries, and I found out they also reach out to the addicts and the homeless, as well as working toward prison reform – all the things street ministries and urban religious organizations should be concerned with – and that’s something I can support, at least in theory.

The Car Angel site is easy to navigate, and offers information about what sorts of vehicles they accept (cars, boats, motorcycles, and rv’s) as well as some of the projects they’re working on (adult literacy, outreach to children, drug prevention) and how you can get a copy of their anti-drug film “D.O.P.E.” for your organization.

The trailer for “D.O.P.E.” is below, courtesy of YouTube, but if you want to check out the free children’s videos they make, which are reminiscent of the claymation series with the kid and the dog that I remember watching as a child in New Jersey (and which, I’m told, are somewhat akin to Veggie Tales, but you all know I don’t do animation, so I wouldn’t know).

In any case, check out the trailer, and if you have an old car you want to donate in time to get it on this year’s tax return (you still have 24 hours or so), check out Car Angels.

Adrian Monk, fictional San Francisco detective with severe OCD, had my deepest sympathies while I was in Baja. Oh, I loved being there, but the public toilet facilities in Mexico – at least in that part – lack things like cleanliness and toilet paper.

I often found myself wishing for wipes, before entering rooms. Not that the bathrooms at LAX were much better, but in La Paz, the local custom is to put used toilet paper, not in the toilet for flushing, but in the wastebasket.

Even in Dorian’s, which isn’t a cheap store (I mean, you walk in and there’s a Clinique counter – it’s a traditional department store), the bathrooms were scary. They probably did have toilet paper (unused) when they opened, but at three it was clear that no one bothered to check their status.

They have a guy at each Caja (cashier’s desk) whose whole job is stapling bags, but no one to empty the overflowing mass of used bathroom tissue or put fresh rolls in the dispensers.

And then there was the scary bathroom at the car park. “Esta limpa?” my mother asked. “Is it clean?” The guy at the desk nodded yes. “Hay papel?” He handed her a roll of toilet paper.

We opened the door to find a disgusting urinal, and off in a cement closet with no floor and no light, a toilet that was only clean if you compared it to, oh, say, the ruins of Pompeii.

Or maybe those were cleaner.

I’m not easily squicked, really, but after that bathroom (which we both refused to use) I totally sided with Mr. Monk.

Totally.

Beach Magic has made me the only person ever (I am certain) to come home from vacation having LOST weight, despite eating chocolate and coconut shrimp and all sorts of luxurious, delicious, bad-for-you foods.

We won’t even talk about the cream of green chili soup.
Much.

Seriously, ten days in Mexico was somewhat akin to a six week course of hydroxycut – I am not tan, because it was cold (for Mexico – low 70’s), but I am toned, energetic, and anxious to get up and do things.

Like fly a kite.
Or run through a field.

Things I don’t really take the time to do.

But my parents gave Christopher this brilliant 3-cube box kite for Christmas and we never had a chance to fly it. So now we have to, especially since we carried it home.

Seriously.
It’s beach magic.

…with living in a foreign country is that things that should be easy, like getting term life insurance quotes, become more difficult.

On Wednesday, my parents’ home insurance agent called to ask them to renew, and told them their policy had lapsed ten days before, even though he’d promised not to let that happen. I got to experience my parents’ side of the issue, hearing them complain about how the binder was wrong, and having another, more reputable agent agree with my mother, “You may have payed a premium…but you weren’t covered.”

And yet, despite this…their life seems so relaxed and peaceful.

Problems seem to lend flavor.

…with going to bed at 9:30 is that you find yourself wired and awake before dawn.

At least if you’re me. Fuzzy’s still blissfully asleep, and he went to bed around six. Me? I’m on my second mug of coffee, have already showered and dressed, and took some night pictures of the lights of La Paz across the water.

I’m having a mani/pedi/brow wax at ten.

It’s currently 5:10 AM local time.

I’m a little tired, but not enough to sleep.

I might read.

I might just lie on the bed and listen to the waves.

I’m not sure.

But I’m too wakeful to sleep.

We locked the dogs out of the dining room ever since I finished putting the ornaments on the tree, because Cleo likes to sit in that window and growl at cats, and I didn’t want her knocking the tree over in her excitement.

Tonight, packing for our trip, I looked through the dining room doors, and caught the image of the tree in the window, and thought it was pretty, so I took a picture.

Click to see full size

I have to be up in three hours to get to the airport, so I’m signing off now. Watch my twitter feed (my user name there is MissMelysse) for updates on our trip, and expect a blog sometime tomorrow evening.

To those whose holiday cards still haven’t gone out (I’m SORRY, I ran out of time!), please know that you are in my thoughts.

Note to self: Your pink Converse All-Stars may be cute, but they don’t really have enough arch support or cushion for an entire day of shopping.

Note to self (2): Your parents really need to get you their lists earlier from now on.

If there was ever a day when I wish we’d purchased one of the homes in this neighborhood with hot tubs as well as pools, it’s today. I mean, I love the pool, but it’s not heated, so we can’t use it half the year, and I also love my lovely deep soaking tub, but I’d have killed for jets of water to ease my back and feet after an entire afternoon of shopping, most of which was for my parents.

Now, I don’t mind buying things for them. Certain preferred items are hard to get in La Paz, and when they CAN get them, they’re horrifically expensive, but I was DONE with Christmas shopping, and I’ve been begging them for shopping lists since before Thanksgiving. I finally got the last one yesterday, and so, on my parents’ behalf I spent an hour and a half at Joanne’s, forty minutes at Walgreens, half an hour at Starbucks, and forty minutes at a different Joanne’s because the first one didn’t have everything I needed.

We also did some pre-trip errands, like getting copies of the front door key we never use, and buying dog food, and getting a few needed items for a party we’re attending tomorrow – and that part was fun – but my feet hurt, and I’m PMSsy, and I really just want to sleep for a week.

On the up-side, I canceled my mani/pedi/brow wax appointment that was scheduled for this morning because I’m having the same treatments for free, poolside, at my mother’s house on Thursday, a day on which, other than helping her decorate her Christmas tree, I am not required to do ANYTHING but lie in the sun, read, and drink margaritas.

Vacation cannot come soon enough :)

I went to bed to the sound of thunder and the flicker of lightning, wrapped in flannel sheets and cuddled by my dogs and husband – it was a good way to fall into sleep: warm, loved, safe, and I had happy dreams as a result.

I dreamed I’d finally sold my book, was on tour, and had earned enough to offer a private student loan to the winner of a writing contest.

I dreamed of a night dive with sharks at Guadalupe Island, Baja, where the water is warm. In a cage, out of a cage. The dream had both kinds of diving. I like sharks. I think they’re elegant, in their way. This was a fabulous dream.

I learned something as well, from the various dreams that I had. The pink hair? It’s staying til I sell the book. Then I’m going to change it, but I’ve already decided that in February we’re going to do a mixture of pink highlights and threads of warm gold. Natalie (my stylist) is already working on a plan for this.

I have to go finish Christmas prep today.
But I’m itching to write.