Okay, so this particular blog will be boring. I'm changing my email address and must go through this long, involved process in order to import my blogs from one email address to another. I'm cancelling my Juno account, which costs me $10.95/month and have gotten a Google account, which costs me nothing. When I had my old computer, I needed the Juno to provide me with Internet access. Now that I have a laptop, I can get free wi-fi at coffee shops, at work, and...once I'm in Utila...free with my apartment rental. A much-improved scenario!
A very busy weekend in store. I must get started filling out the paperwork to receive my pension, go online to apply for social security, place more items for sale on the bulletin at work, and box up all my winter clothes for donation next week. Hooray!!! I will never again need a winter jacket, gloves or boots. I think it will be one of the happiest days of my life when I discard them.
More in a few days. Hope this silly import works!
Friday, May 27, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
Shedding the Layers of My Life
I sold my mother's small dresser to the parents of a lovely little girl named Hope on Saturday. She is old enough now to have a grown-up bed and needs a dresser for her clothes. Her mom said she always buys old furniture because the quality is so much better. The dresser she bought from me had a serpentine front with four drawers and was very sturdy and quite heavy for such a small dresser. I had painted it white and decoupaged an ocean scene on the drawer fronts...perfect for a little girl's room. Knowing that a sweet little girl like Hope was getting my mother's dresser made it much easier to part with it.
Later in the day my friend, Melva, came by for a visit. We chatted about my move to Utila, shared a pizza, and then she took my best friend, Oliver, home to live with her and her female cat, Pixie. The pain I felt was every bit as intense as the pain I felt when my first son died in infancy. Oliver knew something was up when I packed up his toys and his food & water dishes. The first attempt at getting him into the cat carrier was a bust. He's not a good traveler and hates being enclosed in small spaces.
He flew out of the carrier and bounded up the stairs to hide under the bed. I followed close behind and, with soothing words, coaxed him out from under the bed and carried him downstairs. The second attempt was a success, but at the cost of Oliver's fear, discomfort, and most likely a sense of betrayal. I carried him to Melva's car as he howled and struggled to be free. Placing him on the front passenger seat, I told him I was so sorry, but that I loved him and knew he would be happy at his new home. Sobbing, I hugged Melva and thanked her for giving Oliver a loving home. "I'm sorry, I have to go", I said, then turned and ran to the empty, quiet apartment which has been home for me and Oliver for the past two years.
The tears came swiftly and seemed in no particular hurry to end. My mind flip-flopped between heartbreak, guilt and sheer loneliness. I had two glasses of wine to ensure being able to fall asleep quickly, but I awakened often, reaching to feel where Oliver was laying before I rolled over to change position. Then I would remember that Oliver was no longer with me...no warmth at my side, no soft purring when I would scratch behind his ears, no mewling when he thought it was time for me to get up. The apartment was too quiet.
The next day was unbearable. Just thinking about Oliver brought tears to my eyes and a sick, empty feeling would spread across my mid-section. If I heard birds chirping outside, I immediately looked to see if Oliver was laying in wait by the patio door...his favorite pastime. Something stirring in the soft breeze coming through the patio door would cause me to turn and look, expecting to see him coming toward me...must be time to sit with Mummy in the chair.
I realized just how much I was going to miss feeling his silky fur, his greeting me at the door when I come home from work, his little hugs and kisses, his understanding of my moods and the way he can see into my soul. He was the perfect cat for me, and I think I was the perfect human for him.
I know Melva will love him and take wonderful care of him, and I hope he and Pixie become friends and enjoy playing and keeping one another company. I'm sure once he settles into his new surroundings he will be happy and forget that I betrayed him. You see, I promised him when I brought him home with me that I would always be there for him. Of course I had no idea at that time that my life would change so drastically. I hope he can forgive me. I hope I can learn to forgive myself.
I know the pain will ease, the tears will one day cease and the sadness will diminish. I will always be grateful for the two wonderful years Oliver and I shared. I guess I have to expect that shedding these layers of my life will be challenging. And when I'm done and arrive at my new life in Utila, I'll be that much lighter and newer and, hopefully, stronger.
Later in the day my friend, Melva, came by for a visit. We chatted about my move to Utila, shared a pizza, and then she took my best friend, Oliver, home to live with her and her female cat, Pixie. The pain I felt was every bit as intense as the pain I felt when my first son died in infancy. Oliver knew something was up when I packed up his toys and his food & water dishes. The first attempt at getting him into the cat carrier was a bust. He's not a good traveler and hates being enclosed in small spaces.
He flew out of the carrier and bounded up the stairs to hide under the bed. I followed close behind and, with soothing words, coaxed him out from under the bed and carried him downstairs. The second attempt was a success, but at the cost of Oliver's fear, discomfort, and most likely a sense of betrayal. I carried him to Melva's car as he howled and struggled to be free. Placing him on the front passenger seat, I told him I was so sorry, but that I loved him and knew he would be happy at his new home. Sobbing, I hugged Melva and thanked her for giving Oliver a loving home. "I'm sorry, I have to go", I said, then turned and ran to the empty, quiet apartment which has been home for me and Oliver for the past two years.
The tears came swiftly and seemed in no particular hurry to end. My mind flip-flopped between heartbreak, guilt and sheer loneliness. I had two glasses of wine to ensure being able to fall asleep quickly, but I awakened often, reaching to feel where Oliver was laying before I rolled over to change position. Then I would remember that Oliver was no longer with me...no warmth at my side, no soft purring when I would scratch behind his ears, no mewling when he thought it was time for me to get up. The apartment was too quiet.
The next day was unbearable. Just thinking about Oliver brought tears to my eyes and a sick, empty feeling would spread across my mid-section. If I heard birds chirping outside, I immediately looked to see if Oliver was laying in wait by the patio door...his favorite pastime. Something stirring in the soft breeze coming through the patio door would cause me to turn and look, expecting to see him coming toward me...must be time to sit with Mummy in the chair.
I realized just how much I was going to miss feeling his silky fur, his greeting me at the door when I come home from work, his little hugs and kisses, his understanding of my moods and the way he can see into my soul. He was the perfect cat for me, and I think I was the perfect human for him.
I know Melva will love him and take wonderful care of him, and I hope he and Pixie become friends and enjoy playing and keeping one another company. I'm sure once he settles into his new surroundings he will be happy and forget that I betrayed him. You see, I promised him when I brought him home with me that I would always be there for him. Of course I had no idea at that time that my life would change so drastically. I hope he can forgive me. I hope I can learn to forgive myself.
I know the pain will ease, the tears will one day cease and the sadness will diminish. I will always be grateful for the two wonderful years Oliver and I shared. I guess I have to expect that shedding these layers of my life will be challenging. And when I'm done and arrive at my new life in Utila, I'll be that much lighter and newer and, hopefully, stronger.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
It's Never Too Late...
I happened upon a T. S. Eliot quote the other night that I feel is not only meaningful, but quite apropos of my current status: It's never too late to be what you might have been. That says so much, doesn't it? I think I will make it my new mantra. I've always been an island girl at heart, and very soon I will be one in reality.
I sold a lot of small items at the local community garage sale last weekend, and made over $200 to add to my "Utila Fund". I'm going to need lots of cash when I get there, since a lot of places (maybe most places!) don't take credit/debit cards. I won't get my pension check or social security until a month after I've arrived, so I'll have to plan on having enough cash with me to get by for two months. Then, hopefully, there will be no delays in receiving my money(s)...not that I don't have the utmost faith in my government (!?).
A dear friend has kindly offered to give Oliver a loving home. She has a young female cat and thinks that she (Pixie) and Oliver would become good friends. She will be picking him up a week from Saturday, May 21. I will then have the summer to make sure that everything is working out for all involved and, if not, can make other arrangements before moving. I know she will be a good mom to my sweet Oliver, and I hope that Oliver will adjust quickly and come to love his new owner and new "sister". I expect to cry myself to sleep that night, without my Oliver to snuggle against the small of my back as I lay in the quiet darkness alone. I will grieve for a time, but I will be strong in the face of adversity. I am grateful to have had the love and companionship of this amazing friend for the past two years.
Tomorrow I will post on the bulletin at work my hand-crafted step-back cupboard, the antique desk that I saved from the landfill and transformed into a work of art, and the Singer sewing machine that hasn't been kept very busy of late. I've had good luck selling things on the bulletin, so I'm hoping my luck will hold.
My new friend on the island, Jan, put the $100 deposit on my apartment for me and, when I asked if I should send her a check, replied, "I'll see you in August and get it from you then." I'm hoping everyone on the island is as gracious and trusting!
Mother's Day was bittersweet this year, as it was the last Mother's Day I will get to spend with my children. Next year we will have a "get-together" on the web-cam instead. Hearing their voices and seeing their sweet faces will have to take the place of feeling their warmth as they wrap their arms around me. Things will be different, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. We'll all adjust to the differences, and life will go on, and it will be good.
I sold a lot of small items at the local community garage sale last weekend, and made over $200 to add to my "Utila Fund". I'm going to need lots of cash when I get there, since a lot of places (maybe most places!) don't take credit/debit cards. I won't get my pension check or social security until a month after I've arrived, so I'll have to plan on having enough cash with me to get by for two months. Then, hopefully, there will be no delays in receiving my money(s)...not that I don't have the utmost faith in my government (!?).
A dear friend has kindly offered to give Oliver a loving home. She has a young female cat and thinks that she (Pixie) and Oliver would become good friends. She will be picking him up a week from Saturday, May 21. I will then have the summer to make sure that everything is working out for all involved and, if not, can make other arrangements before moving. I know she will be a good mom to my sweet Oliver, and I hope that Oliver will adjust quickly and come to love his new owner and new "sister". I expect to cry myself to sleep that night, without my Oliver to snuggle against the small of my back as I lay in the quiet darkness alone. I will grieve for a time, but I will be strong in the face of adversity. I am grateful to have had the love and companionship of this amazing friend for the past two years.
Tomorrow I will post on the bulletin at work my hand-crafted step-back cupboard, the antique desk that I saved from the landfill and transformed into a work of art, and the Singer sewing machine that hasn't been kept very busy of late. I've had good luck selling things on the bulletin, so I'm hoping my luck will hold.
My new friend on the island, Jan, put the $100 deposit on my apartment for me and, when I asked if I should send her a check, replied, "I'll see you in August and get it from you then." I'm hoping everyone on the island is as gracious and trusting!
Mother's Day was bittersweet this year, as it was the last Mother's Day I will get to spend with my children. Next year we will have a "get-together" on the web-cam instead. Hearing their voices and seeing their sweet faces will have to take the place of feeling their warmth as they wrap their arms around me. Things will be different, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing. We'll all adjust to the differences, and life will go on, and it will be good.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Riding the Seesaw of Emotions
Most days I'm so excited and filled with anticipation about my move to Utila. But then there are days...moments really...when my heart is doing somersaults and tears come all too easily.
When Oliver...my cat and best friend...turns his head to look at me and places his paw upon my chest as a gesture of love and devotion, I wonder how I can leave him behind. Intellectually I know why I can't bring him with me, but emotionally it will be one of the hardest things I've ever done to leave him with a new owner.
You see, I found Oliver quite by accident, following the implosion of my 44-year marriage. As soon as I spotted him I thought, 'that's my cat', and once we met and sized one another up, I was certain that Oliver and I had known each other "before". Past lives? Reincarnation? I'm not sure. I just knew that we were spiritually connected. He saw me through a difficult time and gave me nothing less than his complete love, loyalty and an occasional hairball. I think I need to find a home for him sooner, rather than later. If he goes to a new home now, I will have the time to grieve before I move to Utila, and I won't be saying goodbye to all my loved ones at once.
On the "up" note, I'm slowly getting rid of my material possessions. My bistro set and bar stools are sold, as is my computer/printer, and this weekend is the first (of many, I'm sure!) garage sale, where I hope to unload lots of smaller items that I can certainly do without during the next few months. I sold the bistro set to a good friend, and we sat on it on my balcony, toasting each other with our glasses of wine, before she took it home with her.
I'm also giving little trinkets to friends as keepsakes. Good friend, Sue, who collects Boyd's Bears, got the stuffed Boyd's Bear given to me by my friend, Ellen, who has since passed away. How do you sell something like that at a garage sale, anyhow? It just wouldn't be right. So you pass it on to someone who is also near and dear to you, knowing that they will give it the same care that you did.
I'll let you know how I'm feeling after the garage sale, when most of my "stuff" has gone to new homes.
When Oliver...my cat and best friend...turns his head to look at me and places his paw upon my chest as a gesture of love and devotion, I wonder how I can leave him behind. Intellectually I know why I can't bring him with me, but emotionally it will be one of the hardest things I've ever done to leave him with a new owner.
You see, I found Oliver quite by accident, following the implosion of my 44-year marriage. As soon as I spotted him I thought, 'that's my cat', and once we met and sized one another up, I was certain that Oliver and I had known each other "before". Past lives? Reincarnation? I'm not sure. I just knew that we were spiritually connected. He saw me through a difficult time and gave me nothing less than his complete love, loyalty and an occasional hairball. I think I need to find a home for him sooner, rather than later. If he goes to a new home now, I will have the time to grieve before I move to Utila, and I won't be saying goodbye to all my loved ones at once.
On the "up" note, I'm slowly getting rid of my material possessions. My bistro set and bar stools are sold, as is my computer/printer, and this weekend is the first (of many, I'm sure!) garage sale, where I hope to unload lots of smaller items that I can certainly do without during the next few months. I sold the bistro set to a good friend, and we sat on it on my balcony, toasting each other with our glasses of wine, before she took it home with her.
I'm also giving little trinkets to friends as keepsakes. Good friend, Sue, who collects Boyd's Bears, got the stuffed Boyd's Bear given to me by my friend, Ellen, who has since passed away. How do you sell something like that at a garage sale, anyhow? It just wouldn't be right. So you pass it on to someone who is also near and dear to you, knowing that they will give it the same care that you did.
I'll let you know how I'm feeling after the garage sale, when most of my "stuff" has gone to new homes.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
The Selling of a Past Life
Yesterday I began the process of selling my past. After having a lengthy spiritual conversation with my father (he passed away when I was 19), I posted a few of his WWII collectibles on eBay in hopes of getting a decent price. I need to fund my move to the island, after all, and I have many vintage items that belonged to my parents which should bring some substantial cash.
Daddy was in the army in WWI and the navy in WWII. He was a patriotic man, who cried during every televised Boston Red Sox game when the national anthem was played. Upon returning home from England, where he served as a Storekeeper during WWII, he brought with him two solid brass ashtrays made from artillery shells. Engraved on the bottom with dates, descriptions and the US Navy seal, Daddy was especially proud of those two treasures. I have no clear idea what they might be worth, but I know what they're worth to me, and I hope someone will treasure them as both my father and I did.
When I decided to make this move, I knew it might be difficult to part with a lot of these memories. For days I tried to steel myself against the impending onslaught of tears I knew would come with each separation. When friends tell me how courageous I am, that they could never do this, I tell them, "oh, yes you could!". It's simply preparing yourself mentally...accepting that there will be painful moments...and knowing that the end will justify the means.
I've been fortunate to have many meaningful pieces of my past with me, but although I must now part with them, the memories themselves will always be a part of me. I choose to look at the transition as a liberating experience. I sometimes feel that Americans are a little too fond of shopping and collecting things that fill some void in our lives. "Things" truly aren't what make us happy. Giving and receiving love, helping others, the many beauties of nature, family and good friends...these are the things that bring true happiness.
So I will leave the United States with a suitcase, a carry-on bag and my laptop...stripped of all other material possessions. My load will be light, and so will my spirit. I will be filled with excitement and anticipation, eager to experience a new culture and a new environment, ready to make new friends, try new foods. But I will bring my memories with me, and the love of family and good friends. I will make a new life, and it will be wonderful.
Daddy was in the army in WWI and the navy in WWII. He was a patriotic man, who cried during every televised Boston Red Sox game when the national anthem was played. Upon returning home from England, where he served as a Storekeeper during WWII, he brought with him two solid brass ashtrays made from artillery shells. Engraved on the bottom with dates, descriptions and the US Navy seal, Daddy was especially proud of those two treasures. I have no clear idea what they might be worth, but I know what they're worth to me, and I hope someone will treasure them as both my father and I did.
When I decided to make this move, I knew it might be difficult to part with a lot of these memories. For days I tried to steel myself against the impending onslaught of tears I knew would come with each separation. When friends tell me how courageous I am, that they could never do this, I tell them, "oh, yes you could!". It's simply preparing yourself mentally...accepting that there will be painful moments...and knowing that the end will justify the means.
I've been fortunate to have many meaningful pieces of my past with me, but although I must now part with them, the memories themselves will always be a part of me. I choose to look at the transition as a liberating experience. I sometimes feel that Americans are a little too fond of shopping and collecting things that fill some void in our lives. "Things" truly aren't what make us happy. Giving and receiving love, helping others, the many beauties of nature, family and good friends...these are the things that bring true happiness.
So I will leave the United States with a suitcase, a carry-on bag and my laptop...stripped of all other material possessions. My load will be light, and so will my spirit. I will be filled with excitement and anticipation, eager to experience a new culture and a new environment, ready to make new friends, try new foods. But I will bring my memories with me, and the love of family and good friends. I will make a new life, and it will be wonderful.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Remembrances
I've become a sentimentalist over the years. I have some of my mother's furniture and personal possessions, a plant stand made of Italian mosaic that belonged to my favorite Aunt Alma, a framed photo taken by my deceased brother in Rockport, Massachusetts, the flag which draped my father's coffin...he being a veteran of both WWI and II. I will pack only my clothes and personal effects when I move to Utila, and I will mail a small box of "remembrances" to myself a couple of weeks before I leave. I understand, from my friend Jan, that mail from the states takes about two weeks to arrive on Utila!
In that box I will have the needed paperwork for filing income tax, insurance and retirement papers, etc. I will also pack the wide-bowled silver spoon with which my mother ate her Cream of Wheat every morning for the last forty or so years of her life. Tarnished and fragile from years of service, it will enable me to have my mother with me in my new home. Also included will be the wine glass from my daughter, Monice...hand painted with various beach paraphernalia and the words "Life's A Beach". Since, for me, it will be, how could I possibly leave that behind?
I'm having a friend and co-worker make a carrying case for my laptop and accessories from a U.S. Navy-issue wool blanket that my father brought back from overseas after WWII. The friend makes wonderful and useful items from felted wool...things such as slippers, mittens, and now a laptop bag. So I will have a piece of my father with me as well.
Because of its size, I can't take my Aunt Alma's mosaic plant stand with me, but I can take the sweet little pair of ceramic shoes that belonged to her. And I'll take the decorative school bus made from a flattened soda (or beer) can and decorated with the little wooden heads of the students in the hand-painted windows...a gift from Ted, a good friend and the talented man who does the body work on the school buses for the Middleton-Cross Plains School District. It will be a reminder, not only of Ted and his friendship, but also of the eight wonderful years spent at a job I loved...transporting some of the most amazing special needs children I've ever had the good fortune to meet, care for and love.
My very talented son, James, made me so many wonderful gifts over the years. I will return most of them so that he may share them with his daughter, Ruby Sophia, who will be born in early June. I will, however, take with me a quirky, primitive looking ceramic mask that should fit in well with "island decor"...very unique, very cool, and made while he was only in elementary school!
My BFF (best friend forever), Marilyn, who I've known since third grade, gave me a small suncatcher when I visited her in Massachusetts last fall. It's a sunburst in blue and purple...two of my favorite colors...and I will hang it in the window of my apartment in Utila and reminisce on a lifetime of memories with my soul sister.
There are numerous small crafts made for me by my grandchildren...magnets, hanging ornaments...that I will pack in the box. And I mustn't forget the heart necklace given to me by my grandson, Zach...that adorable child of the heart who came to us from Russia seven years ago.
I will have small but meaningful remembrances of all my loved ones, past and present, with me. The rest I will sell or give to my children, and I will move...unencumbered...to my new life. At first I wondered if I would be able to do it, sentimentalist that I am, but the more I pondered the closer I came to the realization that this would be a liberating experience for me!
I'm prepared for missing my family and friends like crazy and, easily prone to tears anyhow, I'm sure more than a few will be shed, both during and after the move. But this is the age of technology, and they are only as far away as my computer. I have many friends on Facebook, and we can keep up with one another's activities in that way, as well as with emails. I'm equipped with webcam and Skype on my laptop, so I can talk to...and see...my family and friends from time to time. And I know there are many who will visit me on my island paradise...what could possibly be a better vacation place?! Yes, life can be very, very good...if you're willing to take a chance.
In that box I will have the needed paperwork for filing income tax, insurance and retirement papers, etc. I will also pack the wide-bowled silver spoon with which my mother ate her Cream of Wheat every morning for the last forty or so years of her life. Tarnished and fragile from years of service, it will enable me to have my mother with me in my new home. Also included will be the wine glass from my daughter, Monice...hand painted with various beach paraphernalia and the words "Life's A Beach". Since, for me, it will be, how could I possibly leave that behind?
I'm having a friend and co-worker make a carrying case for my laptop and accessories from a U.S. Navy-issue wool blanket that my father brought back from overseas after WWII. The friend makes wonderful and useful items from felted wool...things such as slippers, mittens, and now a laptop bag. So I will have a piece of my father with me as well.
Because of its size, I can't take my Aunt Alma's mosaic plant stand with me, but I can take the sweet little pair of ceramic shoes that belonged to her. And I'll take the decorative school bus made from a flattened soda (or beer) can and decorated with the little wooden heads of the students in the hand-painted windows...a gift from Ted, a good friend and the talented man who does the body work on the school buses for the Middleton-Cross Plains School District. It will be a reminder, not only of Ted and his friendship, but also of the eight wonderful years spent at a job I loved...transporting some of the most amazing special needs children I've ever had the good fortune to meet, care for and love.
My very talented son, James, made me so many wonderful gifts over the years. I will return most of them so that he may share them with his daughter, Ruby Sophia, who will be born in early June. I will, however, take with me a quirky, primitive looking ceramic mask that should fit in well with "island decor"...very unique, very cool, and made while he was only in elementary school!
My BFF (best friend forever), Marilyn, who I've known since third grade, gave me a small suncatcher when I visited her in Massachusetts last fall. It's a sunburst in blue and purple...two of my favorite colors...and I will hang it in the window of my apartment in Utila and reminisce on a lifetime of memories with my soul sister.
There are numerous small crafts made for me by my grandchildren...magnets, hanging ornaments...that I will pack in the box. And I mustn't forget the heart necklace given to me by my grandson, Zach...that adorable child of the heart who came to us from Russia seven years ago.
I will have small but meaningful remembrances of all my loved ones, past and present, with me. The rest I will sell or give to my children, and I will move...unencumbered...to my new life. At first I wondered if I would be able to do it, sentimentalist that I am, but the more I pondered the closer I came to the realization that this would be a liberating experience for me!
I'm prepared for missing my family and friends like crazy and, easily prone to tears anyhow, I'm sure more than a few will be shed, both during and after the move. But this is the age of technology, and they are only as far away as my computer. I have many friends on Facebook, and we can keep up with one another's activities in that way, as well as with emails. I'm equipped with webcam and Skype on my laptop, so I can talk to...and see...my family and friends from time to time. And I know there are many who will visit me on my island paradise...what could possibly be a better vacation place?! Yes, life can be very, very good...if you're willing to take a chance.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Making Progress
I guess I worried for nothing. I will have a passport before my move. Honduras requires that you have six months REMAINING on your passport before you can enter the country...you don't need to RECEIVE your (new) passport six months prior to entering the country.
I discovered a very cool feature on the Website for the Honduran Embassy in the U.S. If you click on "Contact Us", you can then have a live chat online with an embassy representative. I typed out my question and, in a matter of moments, had my answer! Yulia was very patient with a first-time overseas traveler and quickly put my mind at rest. The Internet is truly a valuable resource, and I encourage anyone who is contemplating a move (or even a trip) outside the U.S. to take advantage of what the Internet can offer. Just do a Google search of ANYTHING and you can have your answer in mere moments.
Passport in hand...theoretically...I firmed up plans with The Sandstone Apts. on Utila. My new email friend, Jan, who moved to Utila from the states seven years ago, had confirmed that The Sandstone would be a good (temporary, at least) option upon my arrival. A fully furnished one-bedroom apartment, including wifi, cable tv and a/c, right by the ocean and away from the "hustle and bustle of the downtown area", I'm certain that I'll be quite happy there. Owner, Rita, told me she would hold it for me with a $100 deposit to be returned whenever I leave.
So, my passport is on its way and I have a place to live. Looks like Utila is quickly becoming a reality!
Today I am off to my lovely daughter, Monice's, where I will have my first class in "Laptop 101". We baby boomers have enough challenges with your everyday PC, and I'm thinking that learning the ins and outs of laptop use will be similar to learning a foreign language! Keep in mind, this laptop will be my connection to family and friends. Not only will I have email and Facebook, but the use of the webcam will allow me to see and talk to those friends who also have it on their computers. I'm going to look into Skype, and friend, Jan, uses a magic jack on her computer, so we'll see which one I decide on.
As you can probably see by now, there's more to moving out of the country than just getting a passport and making plane reservations!
I discovered a very cool feature on the Website for the Honduran Embassy in the U.S. If you click on "Contact Us", you can then have a live chat online with an embassy representative. I typed out my question and, in a matter of moments, had my answer! Yulia was very patient with a first-time overseas traveler and quickly put my mind at rest. The Internet is truly a valuable resource, and I encourage anyone who is contemplating a move (or even a trip) outside the U.S. to take advantage of what the Internet can offer. Just do a Google search of ANYTHING and you can have your answer in mere moments.
Passport in hand...theoretically...I firmed up plans with The Sandstone Apts. on Utila. My new email friend, Jan, who moved to Utila from the states seven years ago, had confirmed that The Sandstone would be a good (temporary, at least) option upon my arrival. A fully furnished one-bedroom apartment, including wifi, cable tv and a/c, right by the ocean and away from the "hustle and bustle of the downtown area", I'm certain that I'll be quite happy there. Owner, Rita, told me she would hold it for me with a $100 deposit to be returned whenever I leave.
So, my passport is on its way and I have a place to live. Looks like Utila is quickly becoming a reality!
Today I am off to my lovely daughter, Monice's, where I will have my first class in "Laptop 101". We baby boomers have enough challenges with your everyday PC, and I'm thinking that learning the ins and outs of laptop use will be similar to learning a foreign language! Keep in mind, this laptop will be my connection to family and friends. Not only will I have email and Facebook, but the use of the webcam will allow me to see and talk to those friends who also have it on their computers. I'm going to look into Skype, and friend, Jan, uses a magic jack on her computer, so we'll see which one I decide on.
As you can probably see by now, there's more to moving out of the country than just getting a passport and making plane reservations!
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