Today is my birthday, and I’ve reached a milestone. I’m 50. I really never imagined myself at this age. It’s sort of snuck on me. But here I am, looking forward to the next stage of life, gray hairs and all.
So how have I been? Two years ago (I gave myself some extra time), I made the resolution to be fit at fifty. I have to admit, I don’t have those Victorian babe arms just yet, but I am more toned than previously and nearly ready to move up a hand weight level. Whoop!
I also have gone nearly completely gray. It’s a bit premature, but I decided during social isolation that I would stop dyeing my hair, and that’s the unsurprising result. It does shine terribly when it reflects the light during my online classes, and it’s become wispy and unmanageable, but what are ya goin’ to do?
Although there were some setbacks in my 40s, health issues, unemployment, Covid, and my mom’s death, I managed to write and publish a whole slew of books, install electricity and internet at the house, and adopt this motley crew of animal companions (I’m not an animal hoarder–nope).
Most days are full and satisfying, allowing me to flex my creativity, and my pets make sure to let me know I’m valued (even if it’s just to open the food packets for them.)
My life here in off-grid rural Mexico is still challenging. Everything takes twice the effort with half the result. I don’t expect that to change anytime soon. I am grateful for what I have, though, and that’s enough for now.
The Nahuatl word for this plant was chimalxochitl (shield-flower) and was intimately associated with Huitzilopochtli, a sun warrior god. The names used in modern times, girasol (turns toward the sun) and mirasol (looks at the sun), refer to the plant’s movement following the sun. Mirasol and girasol morado are also names used for the purple cosmos (Cosmos bipinnatus) while the chile mirasol (Capsicum annuum) is more commonly known in its dry form, chile guajillo.
Traditionally, girasol is used as an anti-inflammatory agent for arthritis, rheumatism, and sore muscles. The Mayo people use girasol to treat tuberculosis and respiratory ailments with proven effectiveness.
Girasol is antioxidant, antibiotic, anti-fungal, anti-diabetic, and antiglycative. It has nephroprotective, cardioprotective, and haematoprotective effects. The seed is antihypertensive, skin-protective, analgesic, and antibacterial. Nutritionally dense, it is a good source of unsaturated fatty acids, vitamins E, B1, B5, and B6, selenium, magnesium, phosphorus, copper, manganese, folate, fiber, iron, zinc, amino acids, and diterpenoids. Helianthus annuus bee pollen has also been found to have high antimicrobial and antioxidant properties.
The stems and leaves are steeped in alcohol for 3 days to make the tincture to use as a rub for arthritis. For gout pain, 10 grams of flower petals are soaked in ½ liter of caña (Saccharum officinarum) alcohol for three days.
An infusion for rheumatism is made with 100 grams of leaves boiled in a liter of water for an hour and drunk before meals. A tea for nerves is made by boiling 15 seeds in one liter of water for ten minutes. Allow it to cool and serve sweeten with miel (honey).
So a few weeks ago, my husband came home with another puppy. I was not amused. We tried to find a good home for him the first few days, but as soon as he had a name, well, that was it. Canine #5 joined our family.
He came from Azul, the vet’s compound. His father is Blackie, who is huge and hairy but well-behaved. From what I can tell, he’s also Cocoa and Puppy’s brother from the same mother. Bear (his name because of his HUGE paws) has Puppy’s eyebrows and coloring that Fred has. Fred and George are most likely Puppy’s offspring. So we’re one big happy family.
Lil’ Bear (or Osito) is still learning his name and where it’s ok to pee and poop and where it’s not. Lots of “clean up on aisle 5” going on.
He’s also not convinced that taking a walk is something he really needs to do, unlike Cocoa, who could happily take 8-10 short walks a day in any weather.
Lil’Bear wants to go outside and will let me put the harness on (one that Bruce outgrew before it even arrived) but then finds a breezy, shady spot and lays down. The more I tug, the more he turns to dead weight. So I’ve had to modify our walk schedule. Cocoa still gets the majority of the walks. He’s good about keeping me from working too long without a break. Then at least twice a day, Lil’Bear goes with us. He’s our Zen reminder to stop and enjoy nature rather than the brisk and serious patrol duty that is Cocoa’s job.
As my son is already walking Cerebus, Fred, George, and Bruce (who is technically still a puppy but has outgrown both of the older Puppers). So that means Cocoa and Lil’Bear are my responsibility.
Lil’Bear is also very fussy when he’s tired. He moans and whines and flips and flops until he settles down for his nap. I had ordered a “cat” bed during the Black Friday sales last year that neither cat felt suitable, and Bear has claimed it as his own.
He’s not fond of the cats. He has a high-pitched bark that seems to be his “I’m telling on you” bark when they are up on something, and he thinks they shouldn’t be. Fuzz typically ignores him, but Manchas hisses and growls, which just further intensifies Bear’s tattling.
Although Cocoa won’t admit it, he loves having Lil’Bear around. The sacred guarding of the house is no longer Cocoa’s sole responsibility, although Bear is still a rookie. Most mornings, during my exercise routine, the boys are upstairs with me, wrestling like those televised professionals on WWF. It often turns into a session of the zoomies with Cocoa launching himself from my bed over Bear’s head and then racing back. Lil’Bear isn’t quite big enough to jump on the furniture, but I’m sure that’s only a week or two away at most.
Despite being not quite big enough for the beds, he has discovered that if he pulls the tablecloth, blanket, or mat down, he’ll be rewarded with some sort of prize (the cat’s still full food dish, the cozy comforter that’s way better than his own, or some leftover bits of people food.)
Lil’Bear has also found Cocoa’s discarded (or limbless) toy basket. He loves spreading them about and making those detached monkey arms squeak. Cocoa seems ok with that. He’s too old to play with toys, after all.
So here we are, nearly classifying as animal hoarders in our little ranchito. I hope this is the last puppy for quite some time.
Ma, how could you?
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From the hilarious antics of their pet rabbits to the unexpected challenges of raising a donkey, Animal Antics South of the Border Series is a true celebration of the joys and struggles of rural life.
Surviving Mexico 