Dawn of a New Day

Good morning, Better Lifers!  What a glorious day.  I hope you take a moment from your busy Saturdays to simply breathe, look around you, and smile.

I've been rather contemplative lately.  I just feel so FULL of Life, in a quiet, contented way.  I think perhaps my senses are becoming more finely tuned to the little things in each day that bring me peace and happiness.  Combined, they can outweigh the moments of the blechy stuff - the chaos and frustrations of everyday life.

Anyway, in this spirit of contented contemplation, I awoke this morning with a clear mission in mind . . .

First of all, keep in mind that I don't use alarm clocks anymore.  Beau might as well be an alarm clock because he wakes so early and regularly.  Angel, too.  I love waking slowly to the quiet sounds of their morning stirrings, the buzz of an early boat carrying someone to work on a neighboring island, the darkness slowly dispersing as I blink my way into the day.

So, at 6:30 a.m. this morning, I was sleepily making coffee and giving Angel her breakfast.  However, already having my mission in mind, I skipped other morning routines (dishes, email, etc.), put on some clothes, grabbed my camera and headed out the door.  Angel scampered happily along with me toward the golf cart, excited to go for a ride and likely curious about this deviation from our usual morning routines.

Our mission?  To experience the sunrise, up close and personal.

On this small island, I face west and enjoy glorious sunsets on a near-daily basis.  As much as I love and appreciate such beauty at the close of the day, there's just something special about the peaceful quiet of morning and the anticipation of a new day that prompted me to go get a sunrise fix.

Five minutes after we left home, Angel and I arrived on the eastern side of the island, the "ocean ridge" where the waters are less protected and rougher.  From here, we enjoyed the dawn of this new day . . .

6:45 a.m.  

The sun has not yet shown her face, but her advance team has begun to brighten the eastern sky.

Turning slightly southeast, the sky pinkens and the sea grass blows in the wind down the long stretch of empty beach.
 

We walk down the sand dunes and onto the beach.  Not another soul in sight, we enjoy the serenity of the beach with only the sounds of the wind and the waves.

Well, I am serene.  Angel is beyond excited at this big-beach freedom.  She races down the beach, then gallops back toward me with a happy, panting grin.

As the sun continues her journey toward the horizon, I am struck by the beauty of a large rock jutting out of the sand at the shoreline.  It's glossy surface and ragged edges are beautiful.  The pretty and peaceful symbolism of a rock in the midst of a stormy sea comes to mind for me as well.

As Angel and I stroll along, I am also reminded of a beloved childhood poem that used to hang on my bedroom wall, Footprints in the Sand.  Do you remember it?

I turn back to look at our path, and I see Angel's tiny paw prints next to mine.



We return to our starting point and sit down to take in the rest of the sunrise.



 

 Here she comes!  The sun rises, a tiny orange ball sitting on the horizon.

 And now, getting larger . . .

 And higher in the sky . . .

 Beautiful.  A new Dawn.

Sated, Angel and I strolled from the water's edge, through the soft sand, up the dunes to the golf cart waiting on the rocky road up high on the ridge.

I brushed the sand from her pink belly and off of her paws, deposited her on the seat, took a swig of coffee, and turned the golf cart toward home.

As we drove back to the western side of the island, I continued to enjoy the brightening sky, noticing how the pinks and oranges bounced off the clouds reflected in the western sky.

So imagine my delight when I arrived home to a breathtaking rainbow!

Angel and I went out back, to the calm shallow water, and I could see the rainbow emerging from a little cay and stretching into the clouds . . .

 . . . ending only when it encountered the brilliant blue sky.

A rainbow!  What a glorious finale to our sunrise experience!

Then, as a delightful post-script, Angel and I enjoyed a visit from our neighbor dog, Billie Girl.  They sniffed each other, tails wagging, then Billie came over to give me kisses and check out the trail of scents in our yard.

After more doggie kisses (and a wave to Billie's Momma to let her know where Billie was), I headed back inside.  Angel cooled down from her adventure, and I continued to nurse my coffee.  (I also ate a piece of chocolate cake for breakfast.  Just because.  Oh glorious day!)

On this quiet morning, I give thanks for so much:  the simplicity of the day, the inspiration to go on our excursion, the majestic beauty of the sunrise, the startling surprise of a rainbow, the friendship of neighbors, the love of dogs, the delicious decadence of chocolate cake, the peace of the ocean and sky, the Grace that brought me here and so much more.

And as I write, I think of you, my beloved family and friends and my dear Better Life readers, and I give thanks for each of you, too.  Have a wonderful weekend.

Fragments of a Thursday: Golf Carts, Dogs and Aloe

G'day, Better Lifers!  I'm having a delightful Thursday and thought I'd share some of it with you.  This isn't a comprehensive view of the day, but is a glimpse into some of the little snippets that are blending together to bring me joy today.

First of all, this post is a labor of love because my rapid typing skills are on a major slow-down today.  I cut my index finger, and it remains sore on the typing tip.  BUT, what led to the cut is most excellent - I was cleaning Beau's new golf cart!  Yup, Beau got a new-to-us used golf cart that I'll be able to drive in lieu of the extremely temperamental and mostly brakeless 15-year-old one I've been using!  The golf cart was shipped from Florida, so I had to wash it down really well to make sure no saltwater splash residue remained - the salt is so corrosive.  Anyway, it's well worth a temporarily sore finger.

This is how I ride.

Today is a delightful, blustery day on the island.  We're enjoying the clouds and breeze and respite from late summer heat.  With the various clouds rolling around, we've enjoyed particularly spectacular sunsets and sunrises lately.  I was still sleepily nursing my coffee during this morning's brilliant displays of reds and purples, but here is a glimpse at one of our sunsets earlier this week.

View from the back deck with a glass of sunset wine.

I'm pleased to report that Angel is healthy and happy after her recent near-death experience.  (Now that she's safe, I find myself entertained by such exaggerations.)

The only residual effect is that my lick-at-everything dog proceeded to pick the shaved area of her arm until it was red and raw.  Sigh.  In order to keep her off of it, Angel has been relegated to the green cone.

My little conehead.

While telling my neighbor and friend how pathetic she looks in this cone, he made a brilliant suggestion - put aloe on her leg!  Apparently, dogs don't like the taste, so it will keep her from licking the area.  Plus, of course, aloe has good healing properties.

So, with a pair of scissors in hand, I marched to the aloe plant in my front yard and took a little snip.

Bush medicine.

Curious as to how it tasted myself, I flicked my tongue across the cut end - blech!  Bitter.  Terrible, lingering aftertaste.  Don't let curiosity get the best of you.  Trust my neighbor.  Trust me.  It tastes bad.

After a few swigs of coffee to cleanse my palate, I squeezed the aloe and applied it to the sore spot on Angel's leg.  A sniff.  A lick.  No more.  Voila!

Meanwhile, it was time to turn my attention to Milo.  After disappearing for a few days to roam and play with the other island dogs (eating by Brooks' cousin and generous others, I suspect), he has returned home.  But before he is allowed entry . . . bath time!

Drying on the deck.

Perhaps the most exciting part of my morning was the long overdue set-up of my little office area!  For the past year and a half, I've been using my laptop, usually at the kitchen counter with a variety of papers spread around.

But, from my former life in the States with a big home office, I still had one unpacked box of goodies - all the makings for a desktop setup.  Huge monitor, keyboard, wireless mouse, battery backup, external hard drive, etc.  After laying it all out, I realized that my tech-challenged self had forgotten how it all went back together.  This, despite my Type-A post-it notes on most of the components!

So I arranged a remote service call with my favorite techie - my brother.  We made a Skype date, and I proceeded to show him all the stuff, and he talked me through how to put it all together.  I think I mostly remembered after all, but it was good to have "professional" back-up, and it's always a delight to talk to my brother.

So, now I'm ready!  Having gotten my home in order, so to speak, I'm mentally ready and inspired to focus more on my writing.  It feels fun and exciting to me!

My new "office" enjoys plenty of light and an ocean view.

Since the glare in the above photo prevents you from seeing outside, I'll give you a more direct picture of my view - the very best part of this office!

Ahhhhhh.

I mean, how can I not write my little heart out in this setting?!

I had just sat down at my new set-up to email my friend and thank him for his brilliant aloe suggestion when I realized - oh no - Angel is licking her leg!  I grabbed the aloe to reapply a fresh patch.  No matter.  My always-hungry-will-eat-anything-and-everything dog apparently acclimated herself to the bitter taste and was calmly licking away.  Sigh.  Back to the cone!

But it's not all bad.  Angel in the cone provides endless chuckles for me and Beau, and she is fairly comfortable in it.

Napping, for example.

And on high alert, per usual, when anyone has food nearby.



I recognize this is a very random smattering of disjointed tidbits from my day.  But all of these little pleasures add up to one giant Better Life!

A Mother's Love (or, How to Not Kill Your Dog)

Oh Boy.  What a week.  Why did I disappear again, just after I'd told you I was excited to be writing again?  Well, I was busy keeping my dog alive . . .

After a whirlwind of travel last month, followed by a friendly visit from Tropical Storm Isaac, I was finally enjoying getting settled in to our island routine again.  This is a particularly quiet time of year on the island - turns out hurricane season is not a draw for the tourists - and I was enjoying the slow summer pace.  After posting last Monday, I decided to take advantage of the deliciously warm summer sea and go for a swim.

After wrapping up various chores late afternoon, I threw on a swimsuit, grabbed a beach towel and called out to Angel, "Wanna go swimming?"  As this phrase is well-recognized in her little dog vocabulary, she came trotting to the screen door, and out we went.  Traipsing down the back steps, our feet hit the sand and we strolled - well, I strolled and she scampered - to the water's edge.  I walked right in.  No need to dance the toes to get used to a chilly temperature.  No, the water is bathtub warm and so clear that I can see everything clearly in the 1-3 feet depth out back.

Angel waded in with me to her chest, then waded back out and raced around on the sand and coral rock.  Eventually, I walked back to the beach, scooped her up and carried her out to float with me in the slightly deeper water.  Ahhh, so relaxing.

Swimming in the backyard on another day.

After half an hour or so, I headed in.  Angel ran ahead of me and up the steps, probably attempting to escape the mandatory post-saltwater-sea-and-sand bath on the downstairs patio.  I walked up to retrieve her for her bath.  As I reached the top of the steps, I vaguely remember seeing her on the deck by the chaise lounges - had she just jumped up and slipped or fallen off?  I'm still not entirely clear.  All I know is that my baby began screaming in pain.

I don't mean whimpering or crying or even howling.  She was screaming, eyes wild with pain and terror and locked onto mine.  However, she wouldn't let me near her.  I kept looking at her, got down to her level and told her in soothing tones that she would be okay.

Today those big 'ol eyes are calm.

Finally, she let me pick her up gently.  I gave her a quick rinse with the hose.  Less for cleanliness concerns and more because in my desperation to help her, I wondered if the salt water was somehow stinging her.  That is not particularly logical, but is likely tied in my mind to the only other time I've heard Angel scream in pain - when rock salt on City sidewalks in our former winter world got in her paws.

Anyway, once I rinsed her and swaddled her in a towel, I simply held her until she calmed down.  At this point, I was sitting on the bedroom floor - away from the chill of the living room A/C - and both of us were dripping all over the tile floor.

After she calmed, I attempted to trouble-shoot the source of her pain.  I already knew she wasn't bleeding, although she did have a bad scrape on her inside thigh.  I also had felt her enough to know there were no broken bones apparent.  Did she throw her sensitive back out?  Did she fall and badly bruise her leg?

I just couldn't be sure.  All I knew was that my darling dog, who usually lets me poke and prod her with the nonchalant patience of a saint, wouldn't let me touch her anywhere on her back end.  Nor could she get comfortable to lie down or even sit.  She whimpered and was clearly in pain.

Desperate to ease her pain, but aware of her small size, I gave her a quarter tablet of Excedrin, the only pain relief medicine I had around.  Angel eventually was able to lie down, but she remained uncomfortable.  I had to carry her up and down the steps to go potty outside, and, even with my super-careful maneuvering, she winced every time I touched her.

The next day, I continued my Excedrin regimen.  Angel was eating and going about her business as usual, but she was very subdued and clearly still in discomfort.

Then, we reached Phase 2.  Angel began vomiting late Tuesday afternoon.  Hmmm, I presumed the Excedrin was upsetting her stomach, so I knew to discontinue that, but thought I'd look up online how to ease her tummy.  I hadn't even finished entering my key words "Excedrin" "dog" before other terrifying words and links started popping up.

Toxic.

Liver Failure.

Fatal.

No. No. No!  What had I done?!  Frantically, I began to read.  

(And why I hadn't googled this BEFORE I gave Excedrin to Angel, I'll never know!  I mean, I used to research for a living, for heaven's sake, and I remain queen of the google.  I guess I was just so focused on getting her relief that it didn't occur to me that my baby is not, in fact, a person and that I should check out the over-the-counter medicine she was about to trustingly take from me.  Sigh.)

So, it turns out that acetaminophen is extremely toxic to dogs (and caffeine ain't so great either).  It can cause liver failure and all kinds of dangers, even - gulp - death.  I was simultaneously reading everything I could at a rapid pace, instant messaging with an online vet service, and - after a tearful phone call to my father who worked decades in the pharmaceutical industry - reading the pharmacology information he sent me.  (If you're curious for the details, the vet "bible" gives the technical information here.)

Thankfully, I'd given her very small doses.  Even so, I was terrified that I'd done serious harm to her, and I was stricken with guilt and remorse at being the one to have done this to her!  I managed to reach my vet in Florida by phone and discussed this with him.  Unfortunately, all of the remedial steps recommended by my vet (and the online vet and my father) were simply impossible.  I had zero access to any of the veterinary medicines they discussed.   (Of course, no vet on this tiny island.)  I didn't even have access to a store that carried enough variety of human medications to get acceptable alternatives.

My only course of action was to withhold food, encourage water, get through the night and see how she was in the morning.  UGH.  (I even considered flying out with a private pilot that night, but we wouldn't have been able to land in the U.S. before Customs closed.)  By this time, Angel had stopped vomiting (after six episodes!).  She was listless, but not totally out of it.  She was also still in pain so it was difficult to tell if she was subdued from the pain, or because I poisoned her, or both!

Beau encouraged me to just make plans to take her to the vet the next morning - for my own peace of mind, to do whatever they could for her, and since she was still in pain anyway.  We first contemplated going to a vet in Nassau - it's a shorter flight and far cheaper than flying to the States.  But I decided I'd be more comfortable taking her to her regular vet in Florida rather than an unknown vet in Nassau (where we've had less-than-stellar vet experiences before, I hate to say).

Because it's the slow season, I didn't even know if I'd be able to get a flight out the next day.  It was after-hours, and the local charter service was closed.  Fortunately, one of the friendly staffers answered my after-hours email; they had a flight the next morning, and she put me and Angel on it!

I didn't sleep much that night, checking on Angel every time I heard her - and also when she was too quiet! - and making sure she wasn't showing other dangerous symptoms:  drooling, gum color change, jaundiced eyes, etc.  She seemed okay and, while I was sad that she was hungry, I was relieved to see her roaming the kitchen in search of breakfast, demonstrating that she still had her ever-present appetite.

After a heads up to the vet that we were headed in, Angel and I spent the morning in an airplane.  Upon landing, I went straight to the vet.  He had me leave her there so he could administer an iv with fluids, cleanse her liver, check her blood levels, give her a full xray, etc.  At the end of the day, I picked her up.  Good report!  He couldn't see permanent damage and her blood levels were okay.  He gave me a variety of medicines and homeopathic remedies to maintain with her, and we returned the next day to confirm the blood levels were still okay.  PHEW.

The vet shaved her little arm for the iv.  See her freckles/spots?!

He also surmised that her pain stemmed from an historically "bad knee" which has gotten worse, and he showed me the details on her little xray.  Thankfully, she seemed to have gotten herself righted again.  Although she still seemed a little sensitive, she was no longer in pain.

SO.  Moral of this story?  NO ACETAMINOPHEN FOR ANIMALS!  And really, don't give anything without checking it through the vet, or at least the almighty Google.  Duh.

Back home and relaxed today, shaved arm and all.

This story had a good ending.  As much as I ascribe human characteristics to Angel, even I don't think she is highly evolved enough to appreciate that I almost killed her (okay, that's a little dramatic, but I still feel terrible about it!) and that she, therefore, can be appreciative of her own Better Life!  :)

Kibble ball breakfast today, perky as ever.

Another good ending to this story is that it gave me the opportunity to see my dad, brother, grandparents, a good friend and to spend my mother's birthday weekend celebrating in person with her!

As a final aside, the unplanned trip also ended up with me attending a dynamic and entertaining presentation by Paul Efron about "Hope."  Paul, a guest speaker at my church that day, usually works in a recovery setting, and he is a wildly popular speaker about overcoming adversity.  In a delightful chat with him afterward, Paul also tuned me in to an intriguing book series and community of people - all coming from a place of gratitude and sharing their stories of triumph.  It's called Thank God I . . . and it has a definite Better Life philosophy!  Check it out at www.thankgodi.com

Now, I'm pleased to report that Angel and I are happily home. After arriving yesterday morning, I delighted in putting away Stateside groceries, starting the never-ending laundry, cooking for Beau who seems to have been subsisting largely on takeout and the mercy of others, enjoying the warm sun combined with a strong cool breeze, and relishing the HAPPY feeling of being home!

Angel back to her Better Life today, napping per usual.

What's So Special About French Toast?

What's so special about French Toast?  Well, nothing really.  It's delicious, but it's not particularly unique, nor is it difficult to make.  So why write about it?  

I dunno, just because I feel like it.

Okay, but that's kind of a weak answer.  WHY do I feel like writing about it?  Perhaps because some of you are curious about what I do in the course of any given day on the island.  Others of you are interested in the concept of choosing a better life for yourselves and are searching for clues in the experience of others.  And some of you, like me, just like food!

So today's post is simply about French Toast.  And it's the "simply" part that's most important to me and part of my Better Life.

So, let's talk.

Yesterday, my beau was visiting a neighboring island after work, and one of the women sent him home with a loaf of fresh-baked bread for me - cinnamon raisin, mmmmm.

Fresh, homemade cinnamon raisin bread.

Many of the women in the islands bake their own bread.  My mother even baked bread with a bread-maker machine in years past.  My darling ex-pat neighbor, normally a fantastic cook, even called me one day to tell me not to worry if I saw smoke pouring out of her kitchen window - her bread-maker was having a bad day!

Many of the Bahamian women bake the oh-so-delicious "Bahamian Bread."  One of these days, I'd like to tackle that.  For now, I enjoy the fruits, errr breads, of their labors.  The classic Bahamian bread is white, thick, dense and sweet.  In this health era, women bake whole wheat, too.  Coconut bread is a local favorite which, as you may suspect, has grated coconut in the bread for a scrumptious flavor.  Cinnamon bread, pictured above, is the last of the four standard varieties.

Many of the women bake for their own families.  Others have turned it into a business.  Local bakeries, often selling out of their own homes, are delightful places to visit with the warm sweet scents emanating from the kitchen.  Generally, Bahamian Bread (white) sells for $5 per loaf, and the other varieties sell for $6 per loaf.

So, yesterday, I was delighted at our friend's thoughtfulness in sending bread to me, and I immediately thought how tasty the cinnamon raisin bread would be as french toast.  This morning, those thoughts were still on my mind.

It is another hot day, with a slight breeze, but it still feels like a warm damp blanket wrapped around me and everything in the house.  I do have A/C units in each room, but electricity is expensive, and I don't want to get so used to the A/C that I can no longer function in the ever-present heat!  Summer is just beginning, after all.  So most days, I sweat it out until late afternoon or early evening, then indulge in cooling off the main room for dinner and evening relaxation, and the bedroom for sleeping.

But I digress.

On this hot morning, I just felt like taking a break from the usual busy pace of cleaning, prepping lunch and dinner, running errands, dealing with online stuff, and all the usual details of the day.  Nope, today I felt like treating myself a little bit - and French Toast was the way to go.

I laid out everything I would need and threw together the egg/milk batter.  I pulled out my all-time favorite Mrs. Butterworth's syrup.  Funny the things we like.  My beau and I have friends from New England who brought us The Real Deal in the form of Vermont maple syrup.  While all-natural and absolutely delicious, sometimes I just want Mrs. Butterworth's.

Side note: the little red-topped container that lives on my counter contains pure rock salt, hand-gathered locally by a friend!

Let the cooking commence!  I won't even attempt to frame this as a "recipe" since I can tell you nothing about French Toast that you haven't already learned from your own family or the almighty internet.  Approximately one egg with 1/4 cup milk or so, sprinkles of cinnamon powder, stir together, dunk the bread on each side and plop onto a hot griddle, flipping to cook each side until done to your liking.

French toast in process.

Not having made it with cinnamon bread before, it didn't occur to me that it might brown faster or burn around the raisins.  Whatever.  I'm not claiming excellence - it tasted better than it looks!  Same goes for the egg yolk that broke when I flipped it, but it still ended up over medium, as I was hoping.

Final touch - fresh strawberries purchased on a day-run to Nassau yesterday for errands and groceries.  Occasionally, fresh strawberries will come through our local stores, but it's a treat, so I grabbed a box of pretty-looking ones in Nassau.

Breakfast is served.

As always, Angel maintained an alert post beside me while I ate, anxious for accidental droppings or not-so-accidental handouts.

Anything for me?

And this pic just because she's so doggone cute.

I wasn't giving her any handouts, but - with the camera taking her picture and all - she knew I was still paying attention to her.  So she diligently held her "sit" position to show me what a good girl deserving of treats she must be.  In fact, she was so intent on holding her pose that her back legs were slowly sliding out from underneath her!  Cracks me up . . .

Still waiting - and slowly spread-eagling.

Eventually, she gave up on the pose, got more comfortable, but still stayed right beside me - just in case.

I'm right here if you change your mind.

I didn't change my mind, and I polished off the whole plate.

Mmmmmmm.

So, that's been my morning so far.  Well, that plus the dishes and blogging about it all.

It just made me HAPPY this morning to make French Toast.  Temporary, fleeting, minor, low-key, whatever.  But every little bit of happiness must surely be a good thing.  Today, for me, I found happiness in "treating" myself to postpone laundry and computer errands.  I found happiness in a friend's generosity of gifting me bread.  I found happiness in the fresh homemade goodness itself.  I found happiness in satisfying a craving for French Toast.  I found happiness in a childhood favorite syrup.  I found happiness in fresh berries.  I found happiness in Angel's antics.  I found happiness in the view of the sea as I cooked.  I found happiness in the contentment of a full belly.  

Realizing that I couldn't remember a single day of making mid-week French Toast for myself in more than a decade of lawyering, I found appreciation and happiness in simply having the time to putter with all of this today.

The "big" things in life are momentous, important and sometimes life-changing.  But it's the little things in every single day that give shape to how we feel on that particular day.  Those little moments accumulate into the whole of the day.  Mine is off to a good start!  I hope you find some little pleasures in your day, too.  Cheers, friends!

Things I Could Do All Day Long

This blog post was prompted by two things I was doing the other day when I happened to think about each of them, “I could do this all day long and never tire of it.”  So I set pen to paper (err, fingers to keyboard) and started to write about it.  What were those two things that were so special as to inspire a blog post?  Well, let me set the scene for you . . . 

It was an early evening on the island.  The sun was performing a beautiful slow dance toward the horizon, and the sea sparkled her farewell to the day.  My beau had departed a few hours earlier – off with “the guys” to an island 40 miles away to hunt goats to supply food for a friend’s upcoming wedding feast.  (And, by the way, I’m pretty sure I’ve never described that scenario ever before in my life!)  I was blissed out, having the house to myself.  I mean, I looooove spending time with my beau, and I miss him when he is away.  But I was glad he had the chance to engage in one of his favorite activities (hunting for food, not sport).  Plus, a guys’ hunting weekend that entails guns and game and sleeping with the guys on a boat on a deserted island engenders far more favor with me than, say, a wild bachelor party in Las Vegas or New Orleans.

So there I was, sprawled out on the couch with my laptop, Angel snoring on the floor beside me.  I’d been surfing the internet for hours, Tweeting more than usual, researching various blogging how-to, reading other blogs and generally feeling inspired to write – albeit in a prone-on-the-pillows, in-my-mind-only kind of way.  It was at that point that my battery indicator went off.  Time to plug in and recharge the laptop.

I walked to the bar at the kitchen counter – my usual writing spot – and plugged in.  Angel, awakened by my movements, was prancing around the kitchen to remind me that it was 6:00 p.m. – her DINNER TIME!  As I do almost anytime I cook or clean or putter in the kitchen, I pressed play on my ipod.  The speakers started to blast ABBA’s Gold album, which I’d already listened to a couple of times earlier in the day.  I sang along anyway, thinking “I could listen to ABBA all day long.”  (FINALLY, I’m getting to the point here.  I’m apparently extra chatty with my beau gone, too!)

After feeding Angel (and my beau’s potcake, Milo, who was stretched out on the front porch), I realized I should probably eat, too.  

Milo is having a leisurely evening, too.

Although I enjoy cooking for my beau or guests or family, I don’t usually enjoy it just for myself, and I was relishing my “night off” anyway.  So I grabbed an avocado and a lime from the refrigerator and quickly turned it into guacamole.  Yummmm.  

Back when I was a working stiff, my evening meal after arriving home late was very frequently just a bowl of hastily-made guacamole, bag of restaurant-style tortilla chips and a glass of white wine – all consumed in my big, fluffy bathrobe on the couch in front of recorded episodes of West Wing, Modern Family, Glee, True Blood, Mad Men, Rachel Ray, Ellen or Oprah.  (By the way, I don’t have a DVR on the island, and I don’t get network channels or HBO, so my tv-viewing these days is limited to occasional news or weather, and tv movies with my beau.  I never watch regular programming, and I don’t miss it one bit!  Go figure.)

Oops, I devoured the bowl of guacamole before I thought to take its picture!

At some point during the ravishing of the guacamole, I thought, “I could eat guacamole all day long.”  (Ahhh, finally back on point again.)

I started to wonder what else I could do all day long without getting tired of it.  Here’s what I came up with:

• Listen to ABBA’s Gold album (or Carrie Underwood, Jimmy Buffett, The Eagles, Jim Brickman, Jackson 5, Rascal Flatts, the Mamas & the Papas, Kelly Clarkson, Bob Marley, Rebecca Lynn Howard, Zac Brown Band, Dixie Chicks and certain other go-to’s).

• Eat freshly made guacamole (or brownies, fettucine alfredo, gnocchi in pesto sauce, fresh Bahamian lobster, macaroni –n-cheese, cornbread, a good cheeseburger, strawberries, quesadillas, conch fritters or any kind of cheese). 

• Enjoy the playful antics or sweet snuggling of beloved dog, Angel.

• Read a good book.

• Simply look at my beau - sappy, but true.

• Gaze at the sea, or be on or in or near the water in almost any fashion.

• Hang freshly washed clothes on the line to dry (so long as no mosquitoes are around).

• Subject myself to a foot rub or massage.

• Talk to a best girlfriend.

• Sing.

• Dance (well, until my body gave up anyway).

• Write.  I might have to mix up WHAT I was writing over the course of an entire day (e.g., blog posts, professional writing, journal, poetry, song lyrics, etc.), but I could write all day and not get tired of it.

• Receive sincere compliments or a genuine hug.  (Okay, neither of those could go on all day without it getting weird, but you know what I mean.)

• Smile. 

Much to smile about!

What things could YOU do all day long?  (PG-rated, of course!)

Post-Script re Goats.  The hunting trip was a happy success.  My beau got six goats.  He prides himself on clean shots to the head, which I also like because it kills them instantly, without needless suffering.  The other guys got a few, too.  They cleaned them all well and put them on ice - the makings of souse, stew, grill and other wedding entrees, along with plenty of fresh fish and conch!

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to my own wonderful mother (and grandmother and aunts and cousins and mommy friends)!  

In honor of my mother, I am breaking my usual weekend silence on the blog to wish her and all of the Better Life mamas a wonderful Mother's Day.  You mothers do so very much for your children and families, and you deserve to be celebrated!

To my own mother, thank you for your unconditional love, ever-ready smile, intuition, comforting hugs, steadfast support, exuberant enthusiasm, patience, understanding, playfulness, wisdom, beauty, life lessons, address-sharing, island errands and grandpuppy-sitting!  You're my number one cheerleader, and I love you so very much.

My mother relaxing with her grandpuppy, Angel, during a recent island visit.

 Happy Mother's Day!

Hunting Large Sea Snails

Recently, I wrote about an evening boat excursion, which included hunting large sea snails.  I promised a fuller description of what that entails, so here you go!

By way of background, I was never a huge fan of escargot (snails) when I would occasionally encounter them at a fancy restaurant in my former life in the States.  (However, if you saturate anything in butter and garlic, I'm likely to find it tasty!)  So, when an island local offered me bites of an even bigger Bahamian variety a while back, I was even less keen.  However, in the spirit of Choosing the Better Life, I wanted to be open and try new things.  Plus, buttery garlic was offered up simultaneously as a dipping sauce!  While it doesn't hit my love-ometer at the same high scale as lobster or hogfish, I did like it.

Since then, I've learned more about these critters.  Bahamians pronounce the name so that it sounds like "Wilts" or "Vilts."  You may know them as Wilks or Whilks or Whelks.  Or, you may have never heard of these large Caribbean sea snails!  I'll let Wikipedia provide the technical descriptions, but here is my layman's version . . .

We headed out in the boat toward little rock formations jutting out of the sea.  The wilks can be found on our island, too, but not as many these days.

Tide was low so we knew that the wilks, which adhere to the rock near the water line, would be exposed.

Before we focus on snails, let's take a moment to admire the spectacular water.  I never tire of looking at it.

See the different rock coloration marking the high water line?

We maneuvered as close to the rock as possible, leaned in (or got out of the boat on larger rocks), used a knife to pry the wilk's suction loose and dropped it into the bucket.

Approaching with knife in hand.

Our first wilk in the bucket!

While my beau hunts in this photo, I was manning the camera and holding the boat off of the rock at the same time!

As soon as you pry it lose, the wilk squirts salt water out of the shell and quickly retreats back inside.  If you look closely, the center with rings around it is the suction cup portion of the snail.

Up close and personal.

In ten short minutes, we'd gathered a great snack!

But we weren't done.   We kept cruising through the sparkling blue water along the line of little cays in search of more wilks.  When driving closely - and knowing what you're looking for - you can spot the wilks clinging to the rock before heading in closer with the knife.

In a very shallow cove with rock in a semicircle around us.  Engine is turned off and up - we're walking the boat along.

The next round of hunting took longer than our initial score.  We passed several cays that had already been cleaned out by others.  Or, as my beau put it, "Dis is hog road. Ain't nuttin' dere."  Translation from Bahamian dialect:  "This is 'hog road' (meaning, well traveled).  Ain't nothing there."

Still, in about an hour's time - and with us trading spots while he drove and I gathered some wilks - we had a nice bucket of "groceries."

I contributed about 10 to this pile.

As an aside, this excursion was also a great boat lesson for me.  We were in choppy water and I had to slowly approach the rock, throw it into reverse at times, reach the targeted wilk without the current pushing me aside, watch the prop where it got shallow, keep the boat off the rock while he got the snails, sometimes even circle around on my own to retrieve my beau from the rock if he got out of the boat, and otherwise test my new skills.  Challenging, but exhilarating and great practice!

Another line of small cays in the distance, over the choppy water.

Just another example.

As the sun dropped, we called it quits on the hunting and enjoyed the rest of the boat excursion.  Eventually, we made it home.  While I prepared a salad and sauteed the freshly caught Wahoo fillets from our friend for fish sandwiches, my beau prepared our appetizer - wilks!

We brought only a few home with us.  (The rest, we put in an onion bag - strong netting with plenty of holes for water, but small enough that the wilks can't escape.  We sunk the onion bag in water near home and tied it up so the wilks wouldn't crawl off.  This kept them alive overnight until we could share them with other friends in the coming days.)

First, he put the wilks and some water in a pot to boil.

That's salt and seawater scum that boiled off around the edge of the pan.

After 30 minutes or so, he deemed them ready.  I confess I'm not entirely sure how he knew!  After draining them, he took them one by one and popped the snail out by knocking the shell against the cutting board.

The part in the center of the photo is the snail's tail that pushes it along.  We discarded those.

With a kitchen knife, he then took each snail and removed the suction cup and tail.  With the remaining meat, he sliced it into bite sizes for us to dunk in melted butter with lime and garlic.  We did all of this standing up - it didn't last long enough to make it into a bowl at the table.

The dark round discs in the middle of the photo are the suction cups, hardened after being boiled.

These are large, good-sized shells.  Any that were smaller, we left on the rock to keep growing.  We don't hunt babies!

Of course, throughout this entire preparation, Angel was never far from the action.  The smells of the fish in the pan and the wilks on the counter tantalized her quivering nose.  In case you had any question about it, fish is not just for cats.  Angel and the other island dogs love all varieties of seafood!

If I sit nicely, maybe he'll take pity on me or at least drop some little morsel?

So, the next time you hear about or see escargot, you can forget the fancy French stuff and remember our island-style wilks!