This week has been more hectic and fractured than I like. Next week will be worrywart heaven. Will we get back to pura vida the following week?
Getting my CR driver’s license, having fun at the printer’s in San José, a lovely, relaxed lunch at an Italian restaurant in Escazu with three woman friends (or is it women friends?), going to the farmer’s market this morning or taking possession of Barry’s birthday present. All enjoyable times, but there was simply too much running around this week. Not necessarily the headless chicken kind, but it felt as if I was rarely home long enough to sit down and collect my thoughts – always assuming there are thoughts, to be collected.
I’m a naturally lazy person, who enjoys solitude and tranquility. Some women I know, dislike being inactive. They were either raised with the good old ‘idle hands’ premise or they need activity in the same way that I need stillness.
However, their idle may just not be my idle! I don’t idle around, when I sit in a comfortable chair, gazing across the valley at the layers of mountain ridges opposite our house. I observe the play of light and shadow, created by passing clouds, I register the graduated hues of green and the amazing contrast between the glowing neon green of the fresh carpets of grass in the cattle pastures and the many shades of deep, dark greens of the forested hills. My eyes follow the flight path of birds and I listen to the sounds of the life around me. For me, there is no idleness in that. My great-grandmother, who never cooked for less than 20 people, while also tending to her strawberry fields and a never-ending multitude of other farm chores, might have strongly disagreed with me. On the other hand, she might not have. My mother remembers her Grandma wildly shaking her fist at the injustice of being born female in a world, where men choose, while women labor – in every sense! In her next life, she said, I will be born a man! I am fortunate that I never had to raise my fist in impotent rage, even quietly.
However, their idle may just not be my idle! I don’t idle around, when I sit in a comfortable chair, gazing across the valley at the layers of mountain ridges opposite our house. I observe the play of light and shadow, created by passing clouds, I register the graduated hues of green and the amazing contrast between the glowing neon green of the fresh carpets of grass in the cattle pastures and the many shades of deep, dark greens of the forested hills. My eyes follow the flight path of birds and I listen to the sounds of the life around me. For me, there is no idleness in that. My great-grandmother, who never cooked for less than 20 people, while also tending to her strawberry fields and a never-ending multitude of other farm chores, might have strongly disagreed with me. On the other hand, she might not have. My mother remembers her Grandma wildly shaking her fist at the injustice of being born female in a world, where men choose, while women labor – in every sense! In her next life, she said, I will be born a man! I am fortunate that I never had to raise my fist in impotent rage, even quietly.
Our worries about next week need no explanation. No medical procedure is ever welcome. But we were exceptionally lucky that Barry’s aneurysm was discovered as an accidental byproduct of a different examen. Now, it simply has to be repaired. That’s all. Yeah, right!!
Let’s talk about the pura vida stuff after his surgery, shall we?
NOT IN A STRAIGHT LINE by Photolera Claudinha 
Thanks, Nancy, appreciate your concern!
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Best wishes for the medical procedure. Hope you can gaze and be idle again soon.
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