Odd Juxtapositions

Here are a pair of post-scripta that deserve to be included and may be filed under "odd juxtapositions."

Yesterday, we lost our electricity for most of the day. Before we lost power, I had noticed a couple of plump ticks attached to Brynn, and as she is highly distrustful of my efforts to sneak up and pull them off, I dosed her with a teaspoon of children's benedryl. I  planned to do a load of laundry in the morning and hoped she would doze off at some point. No power equals no washing machine, so I settled myself in the hammock with my Nexus to continue the F. Scott Fitzgerald novel (This Side of Paradise) I'd started the night before, only to find that my Nexus was itself out of energy. Great, I grumbled. I'll have to get a real book.

I did manage to cart a few boxes of old faves and classics to Nicaragua, and, why, if it wasn't old Homer calling out to me! I opened The Odyssey, to find that I had inadvertently filched a high school debate team gift to my son from his team advisor (and wonderful English teacher), Mrs. Bowman. I happily cracked its spine, perused the forward, and launched myself into the absolutely worst trip home ever.

Just as Telemachus was setting sail for Pylos in search of word of his father's whereabouts, I noticed that Brynn was sleeping deeply nearby on the porch. I quietly attached a leash to her collar JUST IN CASE and then chickened out and asked Salvador, our cuidador, to try and remove the ticks, one of which was attached to HER EYE! Of course she woke up and struggled to get away and showed her teeth and growled, but Salvador has a way with dogs. He calmed her and deftly pulled out the tick from the eye. Which immediately began dripping blood -- the eye, not the tick. I raced for wet paper towels and Brynn actually allowed me to put some pressure on her eye, and all was solved. She even let Salvador to remove the other tick without complaint.  And unlike Odysseus, I did not anger Poseidon for shoving a hot poker into the eye of Polyphemus. Just mopped up a little blood and all was well.

Today, I did yesterday's laundry, put it on the line, and grabbed a bus to Diriamba to pick up a few necessities. When I settled my self and my shopping bags into a seat for the return trip, I opened my now-charged Nexus and rejoined the aforementioned F. Scott Fitzgerald. As the bus filled up -- it has a slot at the Diriamba mercado, and does not leave for La Boquita until the bus is full-- somebody in the rear had a rooster in a covered basket, and an evangelist got up in the front to begin his cant, as they do. A group of children giggled when the rooster crowed, and I do not think anyone was actually listening to the man with his Bible, but after about ten minutes, he finished his lecture, and thanked everybody for their attention. There was a moment of silence, and then the rooster crowed very loudly, and the whole bus laughed. The motor started and we began the trip home. It was not easy getting back to daiquiris and foxtrots, I promise you.