No time for photos right now, but after two solid days of driving we are in Choluteca, Honduras.  This town has little to offer beyond safe parking and mediocre eating.  But it is about halfway between the border of El Guasale and El Amatillo and thus good enough.  We stayed at the Paradise Hotel.  It is neither a hotel nor paradise, but they do offer WiFi.

We'll be getting an early start today with eyes on arriving in Antigua, Guatemala by nightfall.  Which will take some luck, especially at the borders.

Borders, in fact, have been the slow-point of our trip.  Getting two gringos, a dog, and a Land Cruiser through all of the various windows and payments has not been difficult, but has been time-consuming.

Interestingly- the dog has been the expensive part.  For instance- yesterday to enter Honduras it cost $13 for the truck, $3/person, and 250 lempira for the dog, which is nearly $14.   And the car has only three sheets of paper related to being legal whereas the dog has four, plus a vaccination card.  

I certainly value the dog higher than the truck, but....  it seems odd that both Nicaragua and Honduras are being more strict in their canine than automotive controls.

Labels: dog, honduras, land cruiser, nicaragua, travel

Long day, but I think that it was pretty typical of how things go squirrely here and some of the beauty of living in Costa Rica.

I got up around sunrise to get an early start on the day and get a long list of things done.  After making sure that I had the tools and junk that I thought I would need for the day, I loaded up the car and hit the road...

It took me nearly ten minutes to realize that I had forgotten my coffee.   Dangit!   I did not want to take the 20 or so minutes round-trip to go get it, but knew that it was going to be a rough morning without.  Ah, well, such is life.

I arrived in Liberia after an uneventful 80 minute drive into the rising sun, and was sitting at the Revision Technica Gate when they opened for the morning.  I need to do a 'voluntary' annual inspection in order to straighten my vehicle paperwork.  The annual inspection is widely regarded as being slightly better than a dental exam, in terms of overall pleasure.  So there I was, smiling and friendly, chatting with the Person Behind the Glass Divider to get my place in line.  I was extra friendly and nice because I knew that I did not have an appointment (none available until end-of-month) and was thus at the mercy of said Person Behind the Glass Divider.  I knew that the no-appointment detail was unfortunate, but when I had spoken to the Person On the Phone yesterday, she told me that no-appointment status would take longer but was not a problem.

It was a problem.  In Liberia there is no provision for no-appointment status. You simply can't do it.  Would have been good information *before* driving all the way there!    Since the Phone Person was so wrong on the no-appointment status, I decided to ask the Behind the Glass Person to check for available appointments this week.  Pure genius on my part.  There *is* an available appointment.  Tomorrow (Saturday) in Nicoya, which is only an hour from my house.  Disco.

Slightly frustrated by my failure, but buoyed by my potential success on Saturday, I proceeded to the turbo mechanic.  The nice folks at Laboratorio Turbo Diesel are becoming friends of mine.  I see them twice a week this month.   After fully rebuilding my injectors, and accidentally giving me the wrong seats, which required removing/replacing the injectors not once, but twice;  then fully rebuilding my turbo, and not having a correct gasket which required a little fiddling, we were still right back as square one-  my turbo was only producing 5lb of boost when it should give 13.6psi.

It was a head-scratcher, but we rather assumed that the problem was the turbo wastegate, which they did not specifically remember testing when they had the turbo on the bench.  Too bad, the wastegate is pretty well hidden between the turbo housing and the motor and is thus a certified pain in the ass to access without pulling the manifold and turbo off of the vehicle (which is also a PITA, but at least it can be done whereas accessing the wastegate on-vehicle is closer to impossible).

I left the truck in their happy hands and went off in search of coffee.  I was pleased to eat at the bus station for the second time in a week (not sure about the 'States, but in CR, some of the best cheap food is always at public transit hubs: cheap and delicious).   The gallo pinto was fabulous, the coffee strong and hot, and my scrambled eggs with tomato were appropriately scrambled and tomato'ed.  The hand-made tortilla on the side could not be improved upon. 

After thoroughly enjoying my chow and watching the comings and goings of people at the bus station, I packed up and got ready to run some other errands.   Just then I got a call from the LTD guys-  they needed my ignition key to test the turbo.  "Waitaminute.  You've already re-installed it?"    "Yep".   

Now I'm worried.  There's no way that anyone short of a top-flight race mechanic on amphetamines could pull, troubleshoot, and install a turbo in the time it took me to eat my breakfast, it just isn't possible.  But instead of argue with the Office Guy on the phone, I walked back to the shop.  Sure enough, they hadn't pulled/fixed/replaced anything, but just needed to run the engine to trouble-shoot.  Okay.  No worries.  Here's the key, my bad for taking it (habit).

With that done, I walked back into town in the now-rising heat.   I walked to the bank.  Quick non chronological plot development:  Between the RTV and the LTD, I drove out to the COSEVI (similar to the US DMV, in a very broad sense of the word "similar") to see what need be done to renew my soon-to-expire CR driver's license.  Part of the process is to pay 10,000 colones ($20) at the bank and get a receipt.  In typical Costa Rican urban planning, the nearest bank is 10 or so miles away from the COSEVI office.  So I headed into town and here we catch the previous thread of our story....

In the bank I had number 110, number 74 was at the window.  There were eight windows with six of them staffed.  Quick mental math told me "Leave.  Come back later."  Which is precisely what I did.

I walked further into town to find a part for a neighbor.  That is it's own saga and I'll save the story for another day, but it involves many, many phone calls and several visits to Liberia to get a part fixed.  The part was never fixed at all, despite them having said that it was,  and we are back to square one.  Ridiculous.  Typical.

With no progress there, I walked back to the bank.  Not having a car is good exercise.  But hot.

In the bank again (nearly 45 minutes later) they were serving number 97, but there were only five tellers now.  Still, there was AC, so I opted to wait vs. head out to do other errands.   I enjoyed watching a four-year old boy who was playing soccer between the waiting-area chairs and the tellers.  He had a little 4" rubber ball and was aiming at I-don't-know-what, but it involved hitting the backs of complete strangers' legs.  Pay attention: this is one of the things that makes Costa Rica AWESOME:  each time the ball would carom off of a wall and into someone, the Someone would usually look around for the offending object, smile, and kick it back to the young boy. 

Can you imagine what would happen in most places?!?!    I saw this little miracle of getting along played out a dozen times and was impressed by the gentleness and kindness of the people each time.  Children are sacred in Costa Rica.

Eventually a little girl got in on the action, playing with the little boy, and the assault on people doing business came to an end.  The parents?  I don't know who they may have been.  Various adults got involved at various points, but nobody seems to have been in charge.  If I were more energetic, I would tie this story together and better illustrate the metaphor that this experience is for living in Costa Rica.   Maybe in my novel someday.

SNAP: back to reality. The only reason I got to enjoy this heartwarming spectacle is that in order to execute a very simple transaction (pay $20 to the COSEVI to renew my license) I had spent 40 minutes sitting at the bank after a 45 minute walk around two while waiting for my number to come up.

My take-a-number-and-wait ticket said 9:08am.  I walked out at 10:56am and was back on the now-stultifyingly hot street.   TAXI!!!  

I jumped into a nice, new taxi with a big stinky driver.  On the ten minute drive to the COSEVI I asked him about why his meter wasn't running.... and got a mumbled, invented response.  We arrived safely and he extorted too much for the fare.  I talked him down some, but still got a bad deal.  Such is life.

I got an even worse deal from the little "medical exam" place across the street from COSEVI.  See, to get your license renewed, you have to have a doctor (nurse?  quack?) fill out a form that assures that you are alive, and have enough limbs and digits to operate a vehicle.  After checking my blood pressure, height and weight (I didn't write down the bp, but I think that there were numbers like 70 130/XX involved? I'm at the same 66kg that I've occupied for nearly 20 years and unfortunately I'm still 1,70 short with my shoes on)  she asked me for my blood type (A+, I knew, because I had called my mother to check) and if I had any ailments.  That was the "exam".  Oh, wait, she also asked me if I could read aloud a poster that was part way across the room, I could, which was apparently good enough for her.  15,000 colones ($30) and I was on my way.  Complete ripoff.   

I got to COSEVI and the nice guard person behind the desk (GPBD) shepherded me into the inner building.  He and I had talked earlier (remember the non-chronological twist a few paragraphs ago?) and he was very upset then that my driver's license number did not match my residence ID number.  One thing that Costa Rica does well vs. the USA is that they try very hard to have all of your ID numbers *match*.  It makes book keeping much easier for all parties.  In comparison, my recently renewed USA  passport number is totally different than my original passport number and also different than my CA driver's license and my Social Security number.  My library card is different still, but that's ok, I don't go to the library much anyway.  Side to my aside:  you can't even imagine how inconvenient the change of passport number is, in a country where your ID number is yours from birth till death.  It is inconvenient.  

So GPBD was in a little bit of a tizzy because the numbers were different and took it upon himself to Make Things Right.  Which was just plain fantastic for me as I vaulted ahead of twelve other people in line, and instead of trying to talk through a 1" hole in the glass, I got to actually enter the office of the Person With the Computer.  PWC and GPBD had a conversation that couldn't have been more inane, yet amusing, as he explained the situation, she repeated it, he confirmed it, she repeated it to me, I confirmed it with GPBD butting in to confirm my confirmation, then some sighs and literal head scratching, then finally PWC opened one screen, changed the license number to match my ID number, and this massive problem was instantly vaporized.  Ten minutes of 'work' for ten seconds of actually fixing the 'problem'.    But, hey, I was in the air conditioned inner sanctum under the protective wing of GPBD, so ten minutes watching other people sweating in 100*+ heat while my problem was solved... didn't seem so bad.

GPBD's kindness didn't end there. Perhaps he thought I needed special care after the perilous non-matching-numbers episode.  I don't know.  Maybe it was my winning smile?   He took me from PWC to another Person with a Camera and Computer.   I was genuinely impressed that PWCC managed to snap my photo, take my digital fingerprint, and get me to sign a little digital thingy all while speaking in a voice that I doubt even *he* could hear, inside his own head.  Nice fellow, but boy it would help if he could speak up a little.  At least the stuff I had to do was relatively self explanatory.

Maybe this is commonplace in some places, but the next part wowed me:  the machine next to PWCC's computer and camera started whirring and clanking.  It sounded like a sewing machine was mating with a VW bug.  Less than a minute later, a minute filled with Mr. Quiet's lips moving but no way in this earth I could even hear his whisper, let alone understand him, and 'click', my new ID spits out of the machine.  All done.  Nifty!  I signed a little book of his stating that I have my new ID, and I was off again- back into the now *painful* 106* full midday sun heat.   I stopped to show GBPD my new license (correct number) and he seemed touched by my thoughtfulness.  I imagine most people just walk on by.  Poor guy.

Sweating through my shirt after just walking across the street, I took a seat under the shade of the bus stop, and awaited a bus.   After a few minutes,  a cabbie was pulling out and gave me a "What's Up?" gesture.  Sort of a palm upturned with shoulder shrug thing.  Very common here.   He then point towards Liberia.  I rubbed my fingers with my thumb in what I believe to be a more-or-less universal "money" gesture, and he showed me five fingers.  I thumbs-upped him, he drove across the street and stopped.  Still stinging from my earlier cabbie experience, I confirmed 500 colones to get to Liberia.  He said yes, I happily entered the meat-locker cold of his taxi and we were on the way.  He smelled nice, like inexpensive soap.   This was an entirely more pleasant taxi experience and 20% of the cost of the "To" trip.  Happiness reigned.

I got back to my truck (and was immediately drenched in sweat again- 105 with humidity just isn't fair) to find that they had made some progress in that they determined that the turbo was functioning perfectly.  Being a turbo-repair place, they couldn't help but say that with a hint of smug.  After a few more test drives (one without the exhaust in place, wow, that does make a difference on noise and power) we determined the problem:  the fuel filter holder leaks air into the fuel line at a fitting. 

Let me recap the basic situation here:  I've just spent $1,000 on major repair items, as well as about a week of my own time doing the labor for 90% of the repair, only to discover that a $35 fuel filter housing needs to be replaced- about a 1-hr job if you move slowly.    Happiness's reign had ended.  

While they buttoned up the exhaust and removed the old fuel filter housing, I walked (and perspired, a lot) the two blocks to get a new housing.  Along the way, just for giggles, I stopped at the Toyota dealer to find out what Toyota wants for a new housing.  A mere $228 for the housing and filter and water sensor, and it'll take 24 hours to arrive.   At least I got a delicious cup of coffee along with my comedy relief.  I walked another block to the parts store and paid $34 for the housing and a new filter.  I also got some hose, in case you were worried.  And some clamps gotta have clamps.

Israel, the mechanic at LTD, and I put the new filter in, which required drilling some holes, but that only took a little while.  Then took the truck for a spin.  Wooo-hooo!!  Power.  Power like this truck has never shown before.  Plenty of boost, and a whole new driving experience.  The turbo and injector repairs, while not necessarily the cause of what had gotten me into the shop in the first place, have re-awakened this old diesel motor.  I'm very pleased!

My being pleased didn't stop there, however, when I asked the guys at LTD what I owed them for them having put 1 and 1/2 guys on my truck from before 9a.m. until after 3p.m.  they said "Well, you paid for the filter, right?"  I said yes.  "Ok.  Thanks for your business, we're sorry it didn't work for you the first time.  No charge."   Now very very pleased, I left Liberia for the drive home, passing at every opportunity, just to enjoy the surge of power.   I should re-iterate that the fuel filter was in no way their fault/bad call or anything, yet they appreciated my laid-back tolerance of their minor mistakes on the other stuff, and thus I got a nice freebie out of it.  That's sort of how it is supposed to work here--  a lesson that is hard to learn, sometimes.

Unfortunately, the little rubber connector on my boost gauge tore while I was driving home.  Perhaps too much manipulation during the various repairs.  So I didn't get to enjoy watching the gauge zoom up to 13psi, but still wasted a lot of fuel charging up every hill available. 

I also have to reset my idle setting.  The lack of air in the fuel stream means that the injection pump is slighly overfueled now.

I got home before sunset, stopping along the way to pick up some more supplies.  Still joyful, I grabbed the mutt and we had a nice romp on the beach, with a swim.  After that I took my sandy self to a local cafe to deliver some stuff I had picked up on the way home, and enjoyed a nice martini on the outdoor patio, with sand on my toes and the dog happily greeting each customer who came through.  Deposed Happiness leapt sprightly to the throne again.

After a martini, I took us to Sharky's for a burger and beer (where I bumped into some friends and enjoyed a great conversation, and another beer), before finally heading home and into bed, exhausted.

Just a typical day here in what isn't always, but always could be, Paradise.

Labels: Costa Rica, dog, land cruiser, liberia, repair, tamarindo, weather

We are a little surprised that the howler monkeys are still around...  they spent the morning lounging and nibbling leaves.  One came over to check out our bedroom patio, leaving behind a nasty momento and greatly ruffling the dog's composure, but otherwise innocuous.

Eventually we cruised next door to watch from our neighbor's better vantage point and had a great time inventing stories to describe the troop's behavior.   Of the 13 monkeys, we think that we identified the alpha male- other than his absurdly large and dangly bits, we also figured that his general attitude could only be described as "in charge".  There is an infant that was being cared for by what we think is an "aunt", because one of the other females looks much more like a nursing mother with a still-distended belly that could be from a recent birth.

When the "aunt" tried to hand the baby over to the female that we think is the mother, "mom" scurried away and went back to sleep, covering her bosom.   Her actions left us wondering what could be going on.

There was a minor tussle at one point, with one monkey walking up to another who was feeding and giving her a good verbal dressing-down.  The 'victim' ran off to a third monkey, who then went over to the first monkey and told her off.  In the mean time a male moved in between the first two and sat there scratching his butt, perhaps to say "Hey, you two.... settle down."  At least that is how we imagined the conversation to have gone.

Perhaps the most notable part was that a single male was sitting lower and apart from everyone else, once in a while the two other males would hoot and grunt in his general direction, at which point he would look away with what we imagined was a very sad look on his face.  We think that maybe he was either getting cut out of the troop or perhaps just failing to join.  Hard to tell.  As the day wore on he was further from the rest and around midday he seemed to have left to go off on his own.  Such drama.

Labels: Costa Rica, dog, garden, monkey, photo, tamarindo

For many days now Jocelyn has wanted a day trip to Marbella Beach.  Playa Frijolar, to be more precise, named for the gravelly beach that looks like a pile of beans in some spots.  An apt name.

I've been reluctant because I've spent a lot of time on the road recently and didn't particularly want to be in the car on a Sunday unless we were going somewhere new and thrilling, or particularly difficult to reach which involves a reasonably high chance of getting stuck.

Regardless, her feminine wiles overcame my masculine stubborn-ness and so to Marbella we went!

The key to the story is the simplicity.  We drove south for a while (40 minutes or so).  Stopped to snap some photos of my favorite windmill (which I never photograph despite tremendous being tremendously photogenic).  Then proceeded to a beautiful beach with very few other people.  We bathed.  We snacked.  We enjoyed a cold beer.  We strolled.  We read.  We harvested some driftwood.

The breeze was onshore and cooling, the water crystalline.  

We drove home mellow and sunkissed, stopping for another photo or two.

Turns out that Jocelyn was right, it was a great way to spend a Sunday.

Better-than-typical gravel road, Guanacaste	Beach, Wife, Dog. Happines	Goats!! We always yell "Goats!" when we see them, for some reason.	The roads are already dry and dusty, I predict a dry summer.

Labels: beach, Costa Rica, day trip, dog, photo, weather

We awoke early on the first of January... about 5:30, but after listening to fireworks, barking dogs, drunken revelry, and various other noises, 5:30 seemed very early.

We grabbed coffee, dog, and the camera and headed to Langosta Beach to welcome the first sunrise of 2010. We were lucky enough to watch the full moon disappear into the Pacific at about the same time, it was beautiful.

Steve caught what was almost certainly the first wave of the year in Langosta (and Sapo, too). Unless someone was full-moon surfing, that is. Which would have been a pretty cool idea, but probably not such a safe thing to do in Langy. The surf was decent and Steve enjoyed it. While he was doing that, Bb and the dog were doing yoga (and doga?) and playing with sticks and plastic bottles on a nearly-empty beach. It was an idyllic way to start the year.

After a nap, Bb had to do some jewelry work while Steve went next door to enjoy a rum and gingerale with the neighbors. Ginger beer would have been even better, but you gotta do what you can with what you've got, sometimes. It was a hot day- over 100 in the sun, but sitting in a breezy (windy!) patio in the shade talking with friends was just about perfect.

We finished off the day with a bbq and a few more glasses of cheer, then came home to sleep soundly, looking forward to the weekend (also, a great way to start a new year!).

Labels: 4wd, 4x4, beach, Costa Rica, dog, photo, tamarindo, weather

"Let's run down to the beach for a few minutes".

Seems like such an innocuous phrase.   An hour later, in mud up to my knees, hopelessly mired in who-knows-how-many feet of clay I found myself thinking, "Maybe we should have chosen a different route."

Mea Culpa.  There, that's out of the way.  Nobody to blame but myself.  I drove the truck into a mud pit, we lost traction, got stuck.

If you're satisfied with my admission of guilt, stop reading now, because I'm going to offer some excuses as to why I did what I did (and some thanks to those who participated with a smile and those who ultimately saved our bacon).

Before I go further, I'd like to share this image   <------
It was taken in the almost the exact spot where we got stuck last weekend.  The difference is that this image was taken back in the *wet season*, when you expect mud (notice the water, and thus, mud).

I drove over the same spot in the *dry season*, expecting that the mud would be less of a problem.   As it turns out, instead of muddy ground, it had turned into a clay pit without a bottom.  If you want to get into pottery, this is the stuff you want.  Nothing but slippery, slimy, clay.  Wonderful.  But not so much wonderful for driving a car on it.  No-sir-ree.  In fact, not so much good at all.

But I can't even blame the clay (completely) because while we were stuck there digging around trying to free ourselves it was brought to my attention by my long-suffering and utterly wonderful wife that there was a route through the middle of the clay muck that was a little bit higher and a lot firmer than the lower and softer goo through which I foolishly tried to drive.  I'm going to blame a lack of seeing clearly through the dirty windshield and the 8am sunshine, but probably it was a lack of taking sufficient time to really look at where I was going.

After spending some time with logs and sticks and shovels and mud and airing down tires (which isn't so easy to do when the tire is mostly underneath the mud), I accepted the obvious truth that we were good and mired.   Fortunately we were good and mired within a mile or two of home, and had cellphone coverage.   I called our pal Donny, who drove down and with minimal effort, pulled us out.  Amazing what a difference it makes to have a few tons of Land Cruiser tugging on a vehicle.   If I haven't said it recently:  the best recovery device is still.... another vehicle!

Quick side note:  Bb was pretty bummed that we were stuck, as she just wanted some beach time.  But within a few minutes, she and the pooch were playing fetch along a really pretty stretch of a nice little jungle road, enjoying cool morning breezes and the sights and sounds of nature.  I'm a fortunate fellow to have such a wonderful spouse.   The dog, incidentally, thought that the whole experience was peachy-keen.  "Play in the mud?  And a creek?"  "Okay!!"   "Wait, now we're going to the beach too?"   "Okay!!"   "Oh, back home for a shower and a swim in the pool?"  "Okay!!"

Oh, to be a dog. 

Once unstuck (thanks again, Donny), we proceeded down a different (grassy, not muddy) back route to get to Playa Avellanas.   It was a postcard-perfect day, we played with the dog, swam in the estuary, rolled in the surf, and washed away the mud and any worries that may have lingered.


I then spent an hour with a pressure washer trying to get most (not all) of the mud off of the bottom of the truck.  Wow.  Must have had 100lbs of that stuff gunked onto and into every possible nook and cranny below the body.  Impressive.

As it turns out, getting stuck where we were was a blessing:  the following day we went horseback riding along the same route and saw that there were at least two subsequent mudholes that would have been much more difficult to drive through and much more of a serious problem to get out of.  Not to mention that anyone coming to help would have had to negotiate the difficult spot in which we were stuck in order to get to the even-more-difficult holes later on.

Clearly the reason we got stuck where we did was an amazing act of prognostication on my part.





See: That's how good I am.

Labels: 4wd, 4x4, avellanas, day trip, dog, land cruiser, mud, photo, tamarindo

Another hot one yesterday. I spent the day finishing phase II of my gate project while catching the cellphone every so often*. I am feeling proud of the difference- note the old wood on the main portion of the gate vs. the newly refinished wood on the smaller gate. Yes, I know it has imperfections. Now that phase II is done, it doesn't look like as much work as it felt like while I was doing it! I'm sure that the heat played a role. Also stopping to catch the phone takes its toll on productivity. Occasional play breaks with the pooches didn't make it go any faster either.

This project has been a good reminder of the efficiency of specialized work. Once I figured out the best way to do a particular aspect of the job, and assembled the correct tools, it went much more smoothly. Of course, by the time I got all of that figured out, I was also done ;P One of the hazards of doing it yourself.

*Sometimes I like to take a second to enjoy technological advances. While I did have several very important business phone calls to handle, I was able to do so while doing some much-needed home maintenance. It was awfully convenient to be untethered from my desk!

In contrast to the gate project, I think I've pretty much got basic bread making down to a simple, efficient system. For those that aren't interested in a lot of time invested but do enjoy homemade bread, I think you'll have a hard time getting more streamlined than the following:

1. Grab flour container, yeast, and salt from wherever you store them. (this requires pre-planning in that I keep my flours in rubbermaid plastic bins that are large enough to dip a measuring cup, makes it easier to get the flour later and keeps it fresh).
2. Put ingredients on counter with 1C liquid measuring cup, 1 1/2 C dry measure cup, 1 teaspoon, 1 mixing spoon, 1 medium mixing bowl.
3. Put 2 tsp of dry yeast into 1 C liquid measuring cup, fill with hot tap water, set aside.
4. Put 2 tsp of salt into bowl
5. Put 3 Cups of flour(s) into bowl.
6. Go do something else that takes at least 5 minutes.
7. Add yeasty water to flour, mix well. If too dry, add a very very little bit more water. For me, it is usually a near-perfect wetness if I do it as above.
8. Cover with a towel, let sit for an hour, put in fridge.
9. Get up in the morning, pull dough out of fridge, pour a cup of coffee and go do something that takes 15-30 minutes (so the dough can warm up a little).
10. Remove dough, fold it two or three times, put it onto a cookie sheet or pie tin with some olive oil rubbed onto dough and pan, sprinkle a pinch of salt on top.
11. Set a timer for 45 minutes. Go do something else.
12. When timer rings, turn on oven to 475 degrees. If your oven chimes when it hits temp (mine does), then go do something else.
13. When oven is hot, slice some lines on top of the bread, add to oven, spritz oven with some water to increase humidity for a nicer crust (alternately, throw a handful of icecubes on the bottom of the oven, no bowl needed).
14. Set cooking time to 27 minutes (cooking time may vary). Go do something else.
15. Done. If you want a darker crust, let it sit in the cooling oven for a little while- you can basically toast the loaf like in this photo.

That's it. The actual "work" part is probably less than 15 minutes. You just have to start it the night before and also be around to do the little parts in the morning. Fresh bread is worth it.

Labels: bread, dog, food, house, weather

While pulling laundry from the line on account of rain, Jocelyn came across this little stunner. Not sure if it is a butterfly or a moth-- typically butterflies rest with their wings vertical, moths horizontal. But... moths are more typically 'hairy'.

Based on how disinclined it seemed to fly, I suspect that we have a freshly emerged moth that was drying its wings while thinking something akin to "Please don't eat me". It may also have been thinking "I blend in so well with this white tshirt", which is, of course, completely untrue and leads me to ask: Why on earth would a critter have such amazing markings?

Just another slice of beauty. Exactly the type of thing to keep in mind next time I'm stuck at the hardware store waiting an hour to find out that the stuff I custom-ordered was delivered wrong, again, and so I can't finish my simple roofing project.

Also the type of thing to consider when we get a few mozzie bites and consider the notion of spraying the yard. I think that a few itches are worth this incomparable living gem. Just need to build a couple of ponds/fountains with mosquito fish so we can enjoy the yard that much more.

Meanwhile, Caly seems to think by burying her snout in the rocks, she can somehow catch/wait-out the iguana that is probably on the other side of the pool munching our flowers. I suspect that there is a lesson in there somewhere, but fail to produce a pithy caption just now.

Labels: Costa Rica, dog, garden, photo

Steve's older brother and his wife and kids came for a visit. It was wonderful to have them here and I think it is safe to say that everyone had a good time together.

Because I backed up their photos prior to their departure, I've got a few highlights to share, in no particular order and without any particular agenda, here we go!

Nothing says "great start to a vacation" like an air conditioner failure!	A/C or no, the pool worked fine	I'm just as tall as my 13 year old neice, unless we both stand flat-footed :(	Austin was enthralled by the complete works of Calvin & Hobbes (thanks Ky!)
	Steve's first attempt at homemade pasta. His dough came out well, his ravioli looked a little like a poached egg, in a bad way. Isabelle is much more skilled in that arena.	Clue. Good fun for everyone. (Wine helps)	Marty rolls pasta
...wine helps...	Lazy Saturday, a little beach and surf in the morning... some darts in the afternoon	Such form! Such Grace (I lost)	Brave photographer
There was also a game of Scrabble	Breezy and shady	Austin throws well for his first time
Caly: keeping it real	everybody wins at Scrabble!	Sorting beach treasure

Labels: dog, family, food, house, photo, tamarindo, visitor, weather