Dear FML-

I've been off the net for so long that folks are starting to ask what's
been up. EVERYTHING! I can't keep up with it all! The last three weeks
have made me feel like one of those Russian Sables that bounce off of
the walls,the furniture, their hoomin...bing, bang, bzap!

My two week vacation in Mexico turned out to be more like a two and
a half week vacation in Mexico. It was drawn out because 1) Cancun
Airport shut down for a few days due to a tropical storm, and then 2)
Basically the whole N.E. here shut down due to winter storms. And a
good thing, too. One of the last planes allowed to land at T.F. Greene
in Providence, R.I. slid off of the runway when it landed. Very
exciting, but no one hurt, luckily. (I think the pilot probably had to
beat out his shorts when the sideways plane finally slid to a stop.)

I won't even dwell on the week my Mother spent in Mexico with us before
she went back home, leaving my husband and me to have some time to
ourselves. She thought it would be a fun idea to drive twelve hours
each way over the mountains in a rental car through Chiapas state, the
poorest one in Mexico. I knew we were in trouble when we came to a big
sign by the side of the road informing us that we were now in Zapotista
Rebel Territory, which did not recognize the sovereignty of the nation
of Mexico. Think National Geographic for that trip. Dead horses in the
road. Machine guns. Landslides that have poured drifts of stones and
sand across the road. Places where the road itself has crumbled and
slid down the mountain. Cold rainforest jungle as we climbed higher
and higher in altitude to the coffee growing regions. Swarms of small,
filthy children who would run into the road without warning in an
attempt to stop the car and sell us plastic bags full of cut sugar
cane or sweet chestnuts, still steaming hot. It was insane, insane.
Of course. My mother was involved. Thank god she only stayed a week.

Fortunately, we had a place to stay in Mexico (Quintana Roo state,
where they do respect the sovereignty of the federal government), so
we didn't need to cough up the money for extra hotel stays once the
airports closed. There were a lot of stranded, angry Gringos on the
Mexican Riviera and if they had had enough brains to blow their noses,
they should have gotten down on their knees and thanked the Creator
for a few more days in the sunshine and plam trees! But Gringos aren't
exactly known for their brains down there. The Mexicans just watch, and
shake their heads, and think about us having access to nuclear weapons.
And they shiver in the bright sun.

We finally got home and I didn't feel too good. The next day, I felt
much, much worse. I certainly didn't deserve whatever pathogen I picked
up in the sunny south. I puuuuked and puuuuked for 24 hours,(worse than
if I were watching Jean-Claude Van Damme action movies on a loop.) I
was prepared to go the hospital E.R. the next morning if things didn't
improve, but they did. And then I had to finish unpacking, to restock
the fridge, etc. To take care of any last minute gifts that remained
un-purchased. Pant. Pant. Pant. Wrap wrap wrap.

And THEN, my little sister called and asked if I would take my four
year old nephew Alexander not overnight, no no no. Not for a day. Not
two. But THREE days. Three overnights. The last day being Christmas.
OoooKaaay...I got used to a little voice blasting me out of bed each
morning before the sun came up saying "Aunt! Aunt! You make me pancakes
now, Aunt?" Now I know why pancake mix comes in boxes. Because you CAN
make pancakes in your sleep that way. Just add water. Pour slop in pan.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. (It's a lot easier than dodging upside-down
dead horses in the road, hooves pointing skyward, on the Pan-American
Highway.)

I did get *one* quiet moment in those five days after I got home to
the U.S... One. But it was a good 'un. Thank you Ping, you are a good
friend. When I let him and Puma out of their cages the morning after we
got back home (and before I started puking), they immediately ran to
the cat and dog's water bowl. Not because they had no water in their
cage, but because someone else's water is a hundred times better than
cage water. I understand. I set about downloading my HUNDREDS of
e-mails in my chair in front of the computer. And after a few minutes
there was a gentle pawing at my ankle. I pulled my foot up quickly, in
case it was Puma, wanting to chew on my feet. I looked down and it was
Ping, who often asks for a pick up by standing on a hoomin foot and
looking up, hopefully. I looked down and he was looking up, hopefully.
I reached down and gave him a boost onto my lap. He lay down and yawned
and stretched while I stroked him in the way that he likes. He looked
up at me with that trusting little honest face. I stroked him some
more, and then he did something that he has never, ever done before. He
curled up in a little circle, sighed happily, and closed his eyes. Nose
to tail, he fell deeply, deeply asleeep on my lap. In perfect trust and
contentment. I think maybe, just maybe, he missed me while I was gone.
Two and a half weeks is forever for a ferret. Forever.

And through the puking that followed the nect day, the little naked
child running shrieking through the house waving a tiny pair of
Spiderman underpants in his hand like a flag as he went, the demands
for dawn pancakes, the family Christmas party a hundred miles away in
the slush, the endless house-cleaning for guests who were already ON
THE WAY! OMIGOD! The last minute emergency trips for more milk and
butter, eggnog, etc...The realization that the Christmas turkey we
thawed next to the woodstove had gone bad and fermented in its plastic
wrap and my mother in law was ON THE WAY for Christmas dinner...I
remembered that magic time that Ping slept in my lap as if it were the
best place in the world to lie down and catch a few Z's. That small
sigh of contentment he gave was even louder in its own way than the
ripping of holiday wrap, the pop of green wood in the woodstove, the
endless opening and closing of the front door to admit rosy cheeked
guests wrapped up against the cold so that they looked like bulky New
England Polar Bears...I held onto the memory of that little sigh.

I always will. I missed you too, Ping, my old friend.

Alexandra in Ma

[Posted in FML 5833]