Jamie's been overruled

In defiance of my daughter, but in deference to my friends, I’m reverting to emails. I received many messages preferring inbox clutter to using one’s fading memory to remember to search out blogspot.com. I simply removed my children from the mass emails. I’m sorry I don’t have an “unsubscribe” option, but you can simply ignore me. Casa Pilar is on the market. The rental agency asked if they could show it on Saturday. A gringo couple from California. The asking price is $450,000. A lot of money for a Nica house, even one as nice as this. The owners have stepped up their game w/ some new furniture, art work, and plants. They didn’t, however, do anything about the lousy overhead fan in my office or the lack of a fan in the kitchen or the crappy kitchen lighting. I have to prepare dinner before it gets dark or I don’t tell salt from pepper. I have avoided the lamp cords. And last night Daniel finally gave me an oven tutorial. I’ve cooked 2 meals, both stovetop, because I was afraid of the oven. I was all set to bake chicken. I tried to light the pilot. Someone was shooting off fireworks in the street, and I jumped 6 feet w/ each one. I gave up and cooked the chicken in a frying pan. I’m chicken shit. Everything I unpacked from the cartons stored here had bugs in it. A shower cap had a lizard. It was a little lizard. Daniel is happy because he has a job. Temporary, but a job. He’s joined the circus. No tightrope; he paroles the city by car with an annoying loudspeaker, advising the population that the circus is in town. There are 3 drivers w/ different routes. He was with them for a month here in Granada, then they moved to Diriomo near here, so he went w/ them. Now they’re in Managua, an hour away. Daniel has a friend w/ a car who works in a factor in Managua so Daniel hitches a ride w/ him daily. He drives from 9 a.m. until 2 p.m., when he returns to the circus for lunch. Then continues driving from 3 p.m. until 5 p.m. No air conditioned car, so it’s really really hot and uncomfortable, not to mention he has to listen to the recorded circus commercial on a loop all day. He gets back to Granada by 7:30 p.m. and then leaves again in the morning at 6 a.m. No days off. The circus works 7 days a week. The poor performers have 3 shows on Saturdays and Sundays. And when they move to the next city, they have to do it w/o missing a beat. They talked to him about getting him a passport and taking him to Panama. I’m sure there was a look of horror on my face when he told me. But he assures me he won’t leave me. Maybe the circus people need an English teacher?