A Broad In Costa Rica

A Brief Political Moment:

Call me a Paranoid Libertarian Extremist - I've been called worse - but I'm afraid if the guy gets any more popular, he will be killed. Not like shot... like poisoned. Heart-attacked. (Yeah, more paranoid than you thought, right?) But, heck, it's been known to happen. I think I'll send him a tin-foil hat. Works for me!

If, ahem, you want to know more about Mr. Paul, enjoy his salient moments from the last debate. Just because I don't live there anymore, doesn't mean I don't care about or, despite all previous experience, have hope for my country.

I Can't WAIT Till Mo & Ryan See THIS:

It is 2am and I am up far too late... but I had to take a look at a YouTube link sent a couple of days ago from my friend, Jan. OH MY GOD: thank you, Jan!!!! It's almost not even funny, it brings tears to my eyes, it's so true. SO SO nice I'm not the only one who says this stuff!! And apparently she's a pastor's wife! Praise the Lord.

Real Estate Rant

I swore I wouldn't be doing this. But I am: I'm heading out to look at Costa Rica property for a buyer. I posted the Big Plan on the Costa Rica Living Group this morning, asking for help:

Good morning, group,

Hal and I are heading to the Dominical area today for several days. We are going to investigate developments for a buyer in the states.

I wanted to ask for two things, please. First, anyone alive down there? I would love to meet you. We will be in Matapalo the first night... then working our way south from there.

Second, if you have lots for sale down there, I'd love to hear about them. The buyer is looking for a lot to hold for a time, then build. I've made contact with several smaller private developers, as well as a few of the big ones. We'll see all we can see.

Ok, three things. I'm open for information, good and bad. I am a real estate broker from Key West, 12 years running my own successful brokerage (of course, if you had a pulse and worked in Key West real estate during 2002-2004, you were successful...) I know that market. I need an education in this one. Rants and raves welcome.

Thank you. Looking forward to seeing this part of the country - we've not been south of Manuel Antonio yet. Pura vida!

What I left out is that I'm a jaded real estate broker and will be going down there with radar crackling, red flags waving. Anyone who reads the message on the board will read all this - I left my blog address.

If you are a Costa Rica real estate salesperson or developer, read on at your own risk. Criticia Voluptua Right-Right (my alter ego who looks something like Cruella) speaking here. I know there are experienced, competent, honest, hard-working agents out there; I've already met and worked with good ones here, as well as in the states. But my overwhelming experience is that we are wildy outnumbered.

I distrust real estate salespeople and developers. Guilty until proven innocent, as far as I'm concerned. ESPECIALLY newly rich developer/real estate agent types spawned in a hot market. These guys (and the really crooked ones are mostly guys)(so sue me) are generally short-sighted, void of all compassion for their earth and their species, and just not that smart. Prove me wrong. Please.

The real estate business is incredibly easy to get into. In Florida, all you need is to be able to read (I would have said "literate" but you just have to be able to read), spend eight days in a mind-numbing excruciatingly boring class, take two tests that anyone with a fairly decent short-term memory can pass, the wherewithal to drum up about $5,000 (for class, books, tests, a computer and business cards) and, voilà, you are in business.

It's even easier in Costa Rica. Here, there are no tiresome licensing laws, no tests, no clubs to join, no literacy requirements. Nada. You just say, "I'm a real estate salesperson." And poof you are one.

No wonder the real estate business attracts the lower element. Name one other profession you can get into so quick and easy and make so much money so fast. Ok, so maybe the oldest profession. But you'd also have to be young to be successful in that one. Fairly young. At least not old. I wonder if I'm too old. Never mind, as I've pointed out before, Hal is so old-fashioned, he won't even let me date.

So what's a nice girl like me doing in a job like this? What can I say, I'm good at it. I'm a people person, a problem-solver, I pay attention. Real estate sales can be very dramatic. That's certainly up my alley. When the pieces fall into place and the agent across the table is not a total ass, it's all very satisfying. Plus, I get paid.

For all of you who got into the business after 2003 in the states, sorry. Tough luck. For all of you who are getting into the business in Costa Rica now, hold onto your day job. This market has some room to grow, but I don't hold any hope for the heat to continue much longer.

First of all, if the U.S. sneezes, the world gets a cold. One day this may not be true, but it is still true today. Most of the investment money in Costa Rica still comes from the U.S. As potential CR buyers can't sell their US property and can't get those lovely 100% loans, you will see an effect here. The markets are related, and trickle down is not just a theory.

Second, there are 40,000 new condos being built in Jaco alone. Everywhere I look, including in Escazú, there are massive condo projects being built. If you can't do that math and extrapolate a tiny bit into the future, I hope you aren't snatching up Costa Rica real estate looking for the home-run.

Third, tourism is down here. Everyone is talking about it except the government which swears we are doing better than ever.

Fourth, sales are down. Other agents tell me so. I get emails from Costa Rican sellers and agents offering discounts and price reductions. Even the developers are saying "Prices are negotiable." In a hot market, prices are not negotiable. In a hot market, sellers don't use the word "motivated" in their sales sheets. In fact, in a really hot market, sellers are not even nice. Costa Rica's gringo sellers today are bending over backwards to accommodate.

Fifth, the market is flooded with properties. EVERYTHING is for sale. The first words you learn in Costa Rica are se vende [say VHEN-day, for sale]. You learn it because you see these words on signs EVERYWHERE: in the city, in the villages, on the coast, in the jungle. Everywhere. And over the next three or four years, there will be many, many, many more properties for sale. I hope all those baby boomers are indeed moving to Costa Rica. Otherwise, we are bulldozing the jungle for nothing.

Sixth, and this is the most dangerous aspect of all, Costa Rica real estate is now being driven by speculators: someone who buys a property looking to make a relatively quick buck in the property's short-term appreciation, the middle-man between the developer and the end-user. End-users, those who will keep the property and enjoy it, are not really in the market yet. They need to retire first.

And investors, someone who buys and holds a property that already produces positive cash-flow, are gone. There are no investors in this market: prices are too high for them. Positive cash-flow is history. Most newbie agents don't even know what positive cash-flow is or how to figure out there isn't any. [See point Seven.]

Most of today's sales are to speculators who intend to sell to the end-user (one of the 77 million baby boomers every market in the world is banking on. Don't get me started.)(Ooops. Too late.) A low number of professional speculators in a market is good, the sign of a healthy market. Like 10%. As that percentage climbs, a market is less and less stable. I'd say this market is well over 50%. That's a wild guess but I'll bet you a dollar it's a conservative one. Make that $2. I'd also be willing to bet experienced speculators are out of this market. They've made their money, this market is too close to the peak and they've moved on. You've heard the old saw Buy Low, Sell High? You can't Buy Low any more.

Point Seven: this market is also flooded with newbie agents/developers/speculators who were trained by Carleton Sheets and Robert Kiyosaki who, along with the Donald, just wants you to be rich. Forgive me. I'm chuckling. These trainers are smart and savvy, I've read their books, played their games. All good info, some of it brilliant. But, like Rich Jerk, they make their millions selling you their secrets, which mostly consists of Buy Low, Sell High using Other People's Money. They are not buying and selling real estate. Not lately, anyway. They know better.

The scariest thing about these newbies with their websites and their cell phones is that they don't know they don't know anything. They don't know markets are cyclical. If they are reading this, they are now googling cyclical. They have said these words: "Costa Rica real estate values will never go down." They never heard of Fibonacci. Don't understand central banking. Can't pronounce Bernanke. Have never seen Predatory Lending in action and have no idea why the death of the sub-prime lending market is cause for alarm. Don't know the difference between a speculator and an investor (they will think they are one and the same.) Never give a thought to who the end-user will be past what they've been told ("77 million baby boomers") and wonder why I would mention it. The whole baby boomer thing is common knowledge. Accepted wisdom. You can take that to the bank. Right?

You might be wondering if I'm so down on the market, why am I jumping in? Because it's fun. I need a job and I'm good at this one. As long as my customer is an informed customer, eyes wide open, I can work with that. He's buying because he wants a property here, not for a flip. He can afford it and he wants it. He will have it for many many years and can ride out a market correction.

And I get five days away from two teens (poor mommy), in a new part of the country with monkeys and macaws, at the beach. Two of the nights in a developer's fabulous guest house overlooking the ocean, all food and drink included. Heck. Who wouldn't want this job?

Ceasar Salad (specially made)

This was the description of the first item on the menu at the Arenal Observatory Lodge. $6. "Specially made." Turns out, they were not kidding.

I lived in Manhattan in the early 80's. Had Ceasar salad prepared table side at some fabulous restaurants: rub the big wooden bowl with lemon, toss in Romaine lettuce, raw egg, big fat homemade croutons, little olive oil, fresh Parmesan, whole anchovies... tossed and served by snobby old waiters in tuxedos. You can get ALL these ingredients in Costa Rica except the tuxedos.

Let's just say this Cesar was nothing like that. Gayle (with whom I have done some pretty fine dining) could not resist and ordered it.

I may have mentioned that the food in Costa Rica is nothing to write home about. There is no cuisine here, which is fine. What you get in the markets is fresh, beautiful, plentiful and cheap. Fresh corn tortillas - especially the ones with cheese and natilla [na-TEE-jah, like a sour cream] - can be heavenly. Fresh gallo pinto can be delicious. You get damned sick of it, but, if you stick around long enough, you come back around to enjoying it.

Since there is no cuisine to fall in love with, you just want to be served good fresh food when you go out. Even if it is gallo pinto and tortillas. I was dismayed to discover that during our trip to Costa Rica's Magic Kingdom®, ALL the restaurants in which we ate served bad gringo food. So mediocre and poorly translated, it was, fortunately, cause for amusement. Sometimes the plate of food would appear in front of us and we would stare quizzically. Then ask, "Is this what I ordered?"

The "specially made" Ceasar salad had four ingredients: chopped iceberg lettuce with tiny store-bought croutons. Not really too surprising. The black olive halves raised an eyebrow. But the pièce de résistance were the tiny cocktail onions scattered about the dish. Yeah. Cocktail onions. Like you get in a gin martini. The three of us gaped for the longest time, speechless. Unfortunately, I didn't have the presence of mind to take a photo.

Gayle was still game - I mean, by this point, we'd had some pretty amusing meals delivered. Then they brought out the dressing: a monkey dish of gelatinous brownish goo that tasted... not that great. It may have just been the look of it, but it was not edible. This salad is now too special for us and Gayle sends it back.

How do the restaurants around the awesome Volcán Arenal get away with it? Captive audience. Despite the fact that vegetables are plentiful - the country is overflowing with delicious vegetables - at every meal, we had the same pre-packaged restaurant supply steamed broccoli/cauliflower/carrot mix. Exactly the same. You know the joke that all the Indian restaurants on 8th Street in Manhattan share the same oven? It's like all the restaurants around Arenal shared the same chef.

Hey. If you are looking for something to do to make a million in Costa Rica and if you can cook - at all - open a REASONABLY PRICED restaurant around the volcano. I promise you will rake it in. Doesn't need to be all gringo food either. Fresh and flavorful would pretty much get the job done. I'd recommend staying away from "special."

A Torment...

...was Babel. SPOILER ALERT! If you haven't seen it and you plan to, stop reading now!!!

But I couldn't wait for it to end. We couldn't walk out until I knew the kids were safe. Not because I cared, but because I couldn't stand to think a film maker would kill them off for the message. Whatever it was. Xavier says a perfect ending would have been for the red cross helicopter to have been shot down by a stray bullet fired from a celebratory pistol.

On the bright side, the subtitles for the non-English-speaking scenes were in Spanish and there were no subtitles for the Spanish-speaking scenes, so we got a lot of good Spanish practice. It was very satisfying to be able to follow all the story lines, even if they were all tragic and not very believable.

If you saw Babel and loved it, or disagree with my other reviews, you are not alone. Not only do my views represent the major minority, my own mother refuses to go to the movies with me anymore because I'm so critical. In fact, this is exactly why she christened me Criticia Voluptua Right-Right. I know: that's so harsh, eh?

The thing is, I'm trying to see as many Academy Award movies as possible before the big night so I can vote intelligently with my local theatre buddies. But I'm getting a little jaded here. And downright scared. I've been SO disappointed, I'm actually afraid to see anymore. And loathe to shell out any more colones.

Even Little Miss Sunshine was a let down, perhaps just because of the huge build-up. Cute and funny, yes. But all-in-all, a little precocious and predictable. The acting was superb - Alan Arkin, Greg Kinnear, Paul Dano, Toni Collette, Abigail Breslin. All excellent, a pleasure to be with despite the contrived plot.

War movies are not my bag. They are X's. For instance, he owns every book and movie on the Civil War ever put out. He can talk about the civil war ad nauseam. For frickin' hours. Knows every date, battle, general, number dead, every excruciating detail. But we are both huge Clint Eastwood fans, so when Flags of Our Fathers hit town, we went. Such a tangled web from one photo! The movie tried to tell too much in too many short scenes for too many hours. X loved it. I almost forgot I saw it. Um, I do know this movie is not about the Civil War.

My man Leo was perfect in Blood Diamond. I'd like to say he's a shoe-in, but I haven't seen any of the other Best Actor pictures. The guy who played Solomon Handy was not only hot, but a fine actor. The scene with his son was beautiful. Jennifer Connelly "phoned it in" as we say in the biz: learned her lines, said them with feeling, cried a tear and went back to her trailer. But Leo: I believed every moment. Not a throw-away blink.

So here's what's left on my Must See list:
HALF NELSON
VENUS
THE PURSUIT OF HAPPYNESS
THE LAST KING OF SCOTLAND
VOLVER 
LITTLE CHILDREN
NOTES ON A SCANDAL
DREAMGIRLS 
PAN'S LABYRINTH 
THE DEPARTED
LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA
THE QUEEN

The Queen was here and I missed it. Bummer! I should have made more of an effort. I can see Pan's Labyrinth tomorrow. But nothing else has arrived so I may have to go to Amazon, pay the big bucks and try to get a few DVDs here on the double. If I could see The Departed, The Queen and The Last King of Scotland before Sunday, I'd be happy. If you've seen anything on the list and want to warn me off, now's the time. Not that that'll stop me... I LOVE going to the movies. Sitting in the dark, eating popcorn, drinking coke while a story unfolds on the big screen... Heck, I'm ready now! Wonder what's on HBO...

Borat

Yesterday was Xavier's 57th birthday so we celebrated the night away. It was a pretty wild night, dinner and a movie, we were out till almost, I don't know, 8:30? It's going to be a pretty quiet Valentine's Day around here while we recover...

Mostly we are going to recover from spending the $12 (including a popcorn) and 84 minutes spent watching Borat. Ironic that Cinemark would not let my teenage boys in to see this as they are part of the only age-group who would LOVE 84 minutes of poop and penis jokes. Thank God Cinemark didn't let them in! I need to write a letter of apology to them. In Spanish, of course. There goes today.

While getting Borat's IMDB link, I was so disturbed to discover its high ratings (it gets a 7.8 out of 10), I rated it a 1 for AWFUL and wrote a review. Beware: this review contains spoilers...

"Poop and penis jokes abound. Being cruel to your fellow man is what it takes to be funny? Borat makes fun of people who may deserve it, some who richly deserve it, but it's done in the most mean-spirited way, I actually had sympathy for the poor buggers he was "outing"! He way outdid them in the mean department.

To gain a person's trust, then take advantage of it as a means to humiliate them is unconscionable. Would Ghandi, the BVM, Jesus, El Señor, any of the Dalai Lamas have endured this movie to the end? Not that I'm anything AT ALL like these spiritual icons, but I'm sorry I didn't walk out the first time it occurred to me. Which was in the first 30 minutes. I kept thinking surely there is a message developing. But no. There wasn't.

I am dismayed this movie gets such high marks. If you have an ounce of compassion for your fellow man, if you believe the whole random acts of kindness thing, don't waste your money. You will be embarrassed for your country, that this is what it takes to make us laugh."

Perhaps this review is a little soap-boxy. OK OK. It's really really soap-boxy. Sadly, I think I look good on a soapbox. Somedays, its the closest to a stage I can get. Besides, it's all true. Even if some of the movie was staged. Which REALLY begs the question: what was that all about?

I'm only going to write about happy things from now on. (Not.) Like X being alive and hearty at 57. This is excellent news, seeing as how I'm going to live forever. I need him around for at least 20 more years. If I can get 30, I'll be ecstatic.

Rude Awakening

OK, now I'm pissed. They've messed with my movies and I don't like it. We went to the movies tonight seeking a little comic relief from the past two days of hell. Borat is here and sounds like just the ticket.

We drive to Cinemark at the Multiplaza. As I'm heading to the ticket window, Ryan leans in to me and whispers that he and Mo are both 18. I don't understand this... Mo and he are with their parents. What difference could it make? I wave him off because I'm 51 and I know so much more than him. At the window, I say "Cuatro para Borat, por favor."

She asks if everyone is over 18. I say no. She says, "Todas las personas necesitan 18 años."  So... EVERYONE who sees Borat needs to be 18, even when they are with the 'rents? WTF?

There are age limits listed on all the movies but I have always assumed this is for kids alone. That, like in the states, when the 'rents are along, they can see what we see. We are, after all, the 'RENTS for God's sake. Not the case at Cinemark. I don't know if this is Costa Rica-wide or a company policy.

When you look here, under each movie title, you see "MAYORES DE 15 A" (at least 15 years old). So you can't see Little Miss Sunshine unless you are 12, no matter who you are with. Of the ten movies showing, only two are available to kids under 12. That's so sad.

But back to us. There is no other movie starting within the hour. We go home... Not one to let go and let God that easily, I went to the Cinemark website and sent this letter:

"Disculpe, mi español es muy mal. Vivimos en Escazú, Costa Rica. ¿Por qué mis hijos no pueden ver una pelicula (Borat) con sus padres? Mis hijos tienen catorce y quince años, y mi esposo y yo aprobamos la pelicula. Mi esposo y yo fuimos a la pelicula con mis hijos, pero los empleados no admiten porque todas las personas necesitan 18 años para ver Borat. ¿Cinemark conoce más de los padres? No es bueno. ¿Por favor, quién decide esta política?

Muchas gracias para su consideración."

Which translates to (I hope):

"Excuse me, my Spanish is very bad. We live in Escazú, Costa Rica. Why are my sons not allowed to see Borat with their parents? My sons are 14 and 15 and my husband and I approve this movie. My husband and I went to the movie with my sons, but the employees would not let us in because everyone has to be 18 to see Borat. Cinemark knows more than the parents? This is not good. Please, who decides this policy? Thank you very much for your consideration."

If they actually write back, I'm in trouble, since my Español es muy mal. I'm probably in trouble now anyway. I hope they don't ask me to leave the country. Why can't I keep my mouth shut? And why don't people ask me before they make policy? Honestly.

Here's When It All Started:

The result of too much pot, alcohol and too little parental supervision in a small un-enlightened KY town. During my high school years, my mom worked for the NIH, traveling around the country as did her mom, Granny Boo, before her. She provided good income, but was not there to impart her great wisdom and keep me from coming to some pretty erroneous conclusions about life and how it should be handled.

My father, our primary caretaker during that time, was a lovely dear gentle soul who disappeared into TV and bourbon every night. If you are going to have a parent who drinks too much, my dad was the one to have. EVERYONE loved my father. My mother even married him twice. He never got angry, never raised his voice. Even today, when people in Winchester talk about my father, including my friends from high school, there is real affection and sadness in their voices. But he couldn't live without alcohol and it killed him in 1987 at the age of 59.

If there is a tragedy in my life, that was it. I am so sorry my boys will never know R.T. He would have enriched their lives and they his. Praise heaven I still have my mother. Even if she drives me completely insane, my boys are crazy about her and she them. I'm writing this so that, when she moves here and I want to kill her and/or myself, I can be reminded why I thought it was such a good idea. And if anyone EVER says we drive each other crazy because we are so much alike, I will have to take you out with me. [Please don't tell her I said this, but the truth is, I'm crazy about her, too. She is an exceptional human being. I still need her wisdom today. In some ways, more than ever. And I am like her. Just those exceptional traits, of course.]

But high school. Funny how we refer to high school and the confused years following as the good old days, eh? I still get misty when I hear Mary Hopkins sing Those Were The Days. Pathetic.

The completely insane thing is I still made straight As in high school... due more to the quality of the education than to my smarts. I was one of those kids who got to college with a 3.96 GPA unable to write a sentence grammatically correct. I couldn't even define the word grammar. I didn't know what values were. I didn't know anything at all about life. I couldn't even roll a good joint! Other people did it for me.

Since I was the primary female at home in those years, I did learn how to clean a bathroom, follow a recipe, wax a floor, bark an order. I could play my guitar, bring a tear to yer eye sangin' a pretty country song and damn I was funny. These last "skills" leading to my useless B.S. in Theatre Arts. Perfect: a drama queen with credentials tossed out into the world with not a single other tool. I knew there were secrets to living a good life but I didn't know any of them. You know that feeling that there is something else going on, but you don't know what it is? I had that feeling all the time.

In college, unbelievably, I started out as a math major. I loved math. I loved geometry, algebra, beginning calculus. Because, in math, no matter what else was happening around you or to you, problems always had a solution. And each problem had the same solution every time. Otherwise, life's mysteries were endless. During my first month in this completely foreign setting (a small liberal arts college outside the big city of St. Louis, MO), a fellow numbskull pointed out a student and said, "That's a Jew." This stumped me. I asked, "What's a Jew?" The numbskull said, "Anyone who's name ends in Berg or Stein." I said, "Well, huh." Great. Two idiots teaching each other a thing or two.

My first year in college was also the year of the great influx of Indian students. I had never seen anything more strange in my life than all those Indian men wearing long dresses around campus. I was completely mystified and intrigued by them. These guys weren't Negroes. They were a different color and had different hair. I knew Negroes. In my KY high school, we were still having race riots in the 70s. Not uncommon, I guess, but utterly pathetic. As a hippie and the child of a liberated mother, I sided with the blacks. To torment my white racist classmates, I would announce I was going to adopt black babies. This pledge forgotten immediately, of course. ooooo-wheeeee-ooooooo.

Of course I drank and smoked pot! They were the only tools I had to deal with an overwhelming sense of anxiety. What was I supposed to do with all this input????? Through some miracle of circumstance or luck or fate, I haven't touched the stuff in almost 19 years. What a relief.

Through some other miracle of circumstance, luck or fate, here I am living in Costa Rica in a big affordable house overlooking the valley with my adoring brilliant husband (IF he adores me, THEN he's brilliant), two remarkable teenagers and a great dog. If you knew me growing up, none of this was ever remotely a possibility. I feel like I've been led down a garden path. To a garden.

I am so completely grateful to be living here now. We have actually escaped the rat race. Because we did it, I know it's possible for anyone to do. Even by accident and even with no money. There are trade-offs to be made. Not sacrifices because a sacrifice is giving up something better for something lesser. Living here, like we live, is not that. I can't really tell anyone else how-to because how we ended up here is still kind of a mystery. I can tell you we're not leaving until some other miracle leads us down the next path. Because these are our good old days.

Weather & Time

Costa Rica time is GMT -6, what the U.S. calls Central Time without Daylight Savings. So summers we are two hours behind Key West and winters we are only one. Très confusing... Daylight Savings with a twist!

On the simple side, Costa Rica is so close to the equator at latitude 9°, the sun rises around 5:15a and sets around 6p. Everyday. 365. You don't get those delicious long evenings, but it's predictable! For the longest time, we never went anywhere at night... we would fall asleep when it got dark! Who knew we were so wired to the sun?

Costa Rica has two seasons: wet or "green" as the tourist industry calls it, our winter, from May thru November. And dry, or summer, from December thru April. Like sunrise and sunset, temperatures are pretty constant, though winters tend to be a little cooler.

We were told to expect daily gushing rain storms throughout the rainy season. But here in the central valley around San Jose, it just ain't so... global warming? After months of occasional gushing rain storms, we are finally seeing daily rain but not an overwhelming amount. On the coasts and in the jungles, it rains appreciably more and reports of flooding are frequent. Apparently October and November are drenched around here. I'll keep you posted on that. You definitely want to remember your umbrella if you are coming during the green season and leave the nice leather pumps at home.

We live in the mountains near San Jose at 3900' according to our GPS. Freed from the AC jailhouse, this is our idea of perfect weather! The tourist industry defines it as "t-shirt days, comforter nights". Absolutely, gloriously true!

People who have not lived in the tropics for 30 years, like us, think San Jose at 3000' is perfect, but that sea level is just too hot for us. And forget the coast for living. Thirty years living in a sauna is enough for this city girl! If you are coming from Siberia, coastal weather will probably seem perfect: HOT and steamy!

In fact, we are going to Manuel Antonio this week for a couple of days... just to check out the weather details for you. Yeah, that's it. Staying at La Posada in the Monkey Room... should I warn them that Criticia Voluptua Right-Right is headed their way? Nah!!! Takes the fun out of it.

If you are visiting, all the guidebooks we've read cover the weather in minute detail and advise what to bring. I say keep it casual: umbrella, sweatshirt and flip flops in the green season. Sunscreen in the dry. I would NOT bring one of those complete rubber rain-gear outfits unless it really turns you on or you decide to become a motorscooter messenger. Because a) you'll look ridiculous and b) you'll be the only one wearing one. Besides the motorscooter drivers. Besides, they are hot as hell. Umbrella, flip flips. Done.

Birthday Wish List

Next Thursday is my birthday. I'm a Libra. Libras are the beautiful and just people in the world, for those of you who do not know me. Please, don't send presents. (If you must, please don't spend over $50.) Or money. It will just get lost in the international two-step. Take yourself to dinner and then tell me all about it, that would make me happy! Here's what I really want:

1. An end to the war in Iraq. Yes, just walk away. We inflict less damage by staying?

2. An end to the drug war. Don't even get me started on this ridiculous endeavor. Let adults sell drugs to adults, let adults get addicted if they want. They are probably control freaks anyway and it's their only hope of getting into a good 12-step program. Besides, it's their choice.

The only crime that comes from a drug war was created because it's illegal and therefore ridiculously expensive. If you can buy cocaine for $2/pop at Walgreens, you don't need to break into someone's house to steal their ipod for a fix. And crack would be history.

I SAID don't get me started. But since you have, check out how much we spend fighting the WOD... putting consenting adults in jail, building and staffing (and pensioning) said jails, lawyers, judges, courthouses, the DEA, entire bureaucracies created and staffed (and pensioned) to keep people over 21 from using and selling drugs to each other... Your tax dollar at work.

3. Have Bush's resignation on my desk by 9am tomorrow morning. (Make sure you wait for the "Have" link to fully load... enjoy the tune!) (The two periods are links also.)

See? I don't want much.