Thursday, May 28, 2009

Warning...PG-13 for violence and gross images

Hi everybody, this is Connely. I was the one who killed de chicken. I am here to give you a chicken hunting lesson.

Number Uno: Go and buy a slingshot from a sporting goods store. Preferebly a wristrocket.

Then get some marbles, or led hunting pellets.

Number Dos: Find an area where the chickens roam. Do not go on somebodies property unless if they are not home or not looking.

Number Tres: Look for a chicken. Then slowly sneak up on it and try not to let it see you. If you have been practicing, you should know how to aim pretty well.

Number Quatro: As soon as you are about ten feet away, shoot it with a marble. Go for the head if you can but otherwise aim for one of the legs or the wings.

Number Cinco: Chase it down and shoot it once or twice more marbles while running. Try to corner it against a wall or something that it cannot get through.

Number Sies: Grab hold of it firmly by the body and do not let go. Then move to a spot where people dont have to watch.

Number Ocho: Now is the good part! Find a sharp knife and cut it's head off. Hold it upside down and let all of its blood drip out. Then pull up the wing and make a slit in the skin. Keep on cutting until all the skin is off. Then cut off the part next to the throat with all the half-digested food. Using your fingers pull out its guts and place then next to the skin. Break it's feet off, unless you wish to eat them. Bury the skin and guts. Wash or rinse all the feathers off of the meat and bones.

Number Nueve: Cook the meat in water and then pull it off the bones. Throw away the bones. You may cook this in soup.

Number Dies: If you know anybody in the area that gardens, tell them. They will probably be happy because the chickens destroy their gardens. I know this from expirience.

There is your whole lesson for free. It is a fun sport. Both me and my brother have wristrockets. So does my friend on the island. He told me he is getting a pellet gun. With a scope. Man it's going to get wild here. Enjoy your shriveling heat!


Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Please Pass the Handle!

For those of you, which is many, who don't think it is possible for the Packards to get a vehicle any worse than a couple that we have recently unloaded, you are gravely mistaken. This one has to top the cake. A Hyundai Atos (not sold in the states) it was the least expensive car available, and it was a good idea not to get anything too nice, since so many of the cars on the island are completely hammered anyway. This way there is no stress to keep it looking good an aviod the imminent accident....and this whole experience is about no stress!

The car seats five, but has a nice little hatchback, which makes the most luxurious and wonderful seat any precocious four-year old could want. In Statia, no one wears seat belts, so this is entirely possible. There is no seat belt or car seat law, due to the slow traffic. We rarely go faster than 25 MPH around here. Much of the time it is about 10 MPH because roads are so bad and also you have to watch for goats, iguanas, and cows and such creatures that might jump out of the bushes in your way!

Charles is thrilled with his new situation, altogether too aware of the fact that he dodged his final 3 months in a car seat and 16 months in a seat belt. I however, am not so thrilled. See, the car has a few problems. For one, the windows in the back get stuck and don't go up sometimes. This isn't a problem most of the time because the weather is pretty nice. But two weeks ago it was a big problem, as it rained for nearly a week off and on. And when it rains here, it pours! Most of the handles are broken and when I want to get out of the car, I have to reach my hand outside the car and open it from the outside. I can't help being polite and thanking myself. Then, the radio falls backwards and into a deep hole and I can't find it. This annoys me in the mornings when I drive the kids to school because i like to listen to the French station that broadcasts out of St. Martin, and I have to find the radio first. Finally, there are a couple of missing handles on the windows. So when someone wants to roll a window down, we simply have to ask to please pass it, you know, like passing the salt.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

The black Spot

Today I am quite sure that my ship has sunk.

I know it. I could see it a mile away.

Picture this drama: A warm, seemingly inconsequential day at the beach. Renee, the med student-island -animal -advocate walking toward me decidedly. A cute nine-year old girl skipping aside of her with a giant smile on her face. A tiny, multi-colored ball of fur cradled in her palm. two giant shiny grey eyes placed directly on that ball of fur. getting closer. Crooked teeth smiling bigger and, piggy tails bouncing higher, the fur is beginning to take a clear form. One I have seen before. I take my new glasses off, sure that they are decieving me. Maybe if if I blink it will go away.

"Mom, look what renee found! She's all alone and she's sooooooo ca-youte! Can we keep her can we keep her can we keep her? Pleeeeeeeze! pretty pleeze? PA_LEEEEEZE!"

I think it was all a ploy

Spot and her favorite horse- toy

I am trying not to glare at Renee......we've done this before. Everyone knows how desperate we were until only a day before moving out of our house to find a home for our two cats (thanks Partridges and Kauffmans). I can feel it, I can see it. but then comes the poor- little- thing -she'll -be- euthanized schpiel. yeah I know that one too. She'll starve. She'll get hit. She'll be eaten by the Chinese. Yeah, I've heard them all.

In the end I am a sucker. She is purring the instant she is placed in my hands. Everyone knows I wanted another baby anyway. here she is. The little calico with a giant black spot on the back of her neck. A perfect name for the Caribbean-pirate kiss of death.

How do you know...

Question: How do you know when you are far from home?
Answer: When during a discussion on "expressing emotions" you ask your four-year old what kinds of things make him sad and he replies,"when a coconut falls on my head !"

Welcome to our blog! Welcome to the Caribbean! Welcome to a remote island in a far corner of the world that few people visit on vacation. Welcome to a place rich in history and diverse in culture. We hope your stay with us, which will continue 16 months, will allow you to close your eyes and take you to a world far away, where you can only dream you are during those long, hot summer days. Come fly away to an imaginary world, which is actually only imaginary to you, but real to us, where coconuts and bananas and mangoes grow wild, where the ocean is warm and the breeze is cool, where no one has to go to work and there are no responsibilities, no appointments, lessons, meetings, or tournaments, no answering machines or phone calls, where every day is a beach day, where there is no pressure to do anything you don't want to....and you can dream and dream to your heart's content but this is our reality! Whoopee!

OK, okay, to be fair, and so you don't think that we are entirely cruel and heartless in doing the victory dance while you suffer another boiling hot Arizona summer, the previous two years were not exactly a picnic for us. In fact, many times I would find Ed in the closet, banging his head against the wall, chanting,"I don't want to be a butler when I grow up, I don't want to be a butler when I grow up..."

So I guess rather than an in-your-face, neener- neener- neener attitude, it would be more precise to say that we are dancing a jig around the mango alter because we are so happy and relieved with the change of circumstances and great opportunity! We have so many wonderful people to thank, and chances are 98.3% that if you have been invited to this blog, you are one of them. And we do thank you all, so many times over.

So sit back, relax, and join us on this adventure. And if you dare face the falling coconuts, save your pennies and come visit!