Hot Golf, Cool Baseball, Green Dreams

My mom's parched backyard

Only a few days remaining in our stateside travels before a most welcome return to Costa Rica. It’s amazing just how good the “green season” sounds, even with its promise of thunderstorms, after a couple of weeks of West Texas weather: bone dry, boiling hot days of 100+ temperatures and long, slow-roasting evenings in the 90’s. How do people live here, I ask myself over and over. In fact, I’ve asked a few residents and no one seems to have an answer. They get a silly grin on their faces, roll their eyes and shrug their shoulders.

        

But live here they do and incredibly, they even go outside during the day and survive -- grocery shopping, going to work, visiting the library, running errands. They even play golf!

         

Goodwill golf clubs

Which leads me to my topic for the day, my new golf clubs. Layne and I had transported our good clubs and bigheaded drivers from California to Portland last summer, thinking that with all the family golf players in Oregon, we’d probably get the most use out of them there. Climate change has made us re-think that notion since during most of our June visit this year, the weather was rainy and chilly -- not exactly my idea of good golf weather. We had a few nice days and managed to make the most of them with nine holes at King City one day and eighteen at Tri Mountain another. But we also had in mind putting together a set of clubs for use here in Texas so we could play when visiting my mom and perhaps even transporting some down to Costa Rica as well.

         

Since I’m not a terribly serious or skilled golfer, it had occurred to me that I might find an inexpensive set of clubs here in Texas on Craigslist. Indeed, there were some offered but none that fit the bill. I needed women’s clubs and didn’t want to spend much. But I never expected to find the clubs I needed at Goodwill.

         

Mother and I had gone to an enormous thrift store in town, Christians in Action. They had huge racks of clubs, organized only by size -- all 4 irons, 5 irons, etc. jammed together on stacked wooden frames. To figure out which were women’s clubs was a gargantuan project. Although the clubs were bargain-priced at $2.39 each, I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of clubs and the undertaking I faced in finding what I wanted from the hundreds there.

         

So-called "fairway" on the 5th hole

So on we went to Goodwill to see what they might have. What a surprise to find only a small number of clubs, easy to sort through, standing in a large open box. I quickly noticed “First Lady” on an iron and realized it was a woman’s club. It looked in pretty good shape so I continued looking through the selection and found the entire set was there, from the driver to 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 irons and a wedge -- all of the same brand, all in darned good condition. The price? Wait for it… 99 cents each! And if that wasn’t bonanza enough, I also found a nice bag, in better condition than my own, for $2.98. I got the whole set for about $12.

         

That’s the good news. The bad news was the condition of the municipal course I played on. Fairway? What fairway? Oh, you mean that dried out corridor with scraggly grass here and there and hard dirt everywhere else? Given the desperate drought conditions hereabouts, however, one could expect nothing else. So I’ve played twice now, early in the morning to avoid the heat, making the best of the course conditions and finding myself quite satisfied with my new irons. The driver leaves much to be desired but that may just be “operator error.”

         

It seems the secret to survival in this weather is to find something fun to do inside an air-conditioned building. To that end, Mother and I jumped in her air-conditioned car and drove a few blocks over to the air-conditioned Quartermaster Building at Fort Concho where a fascinating exhibit is on display depicting the history of women in baseball. Linedrives and Lipstick: The Untold Story of Women’s Baseball dispels the myth of women’s baseball as only a brief phenomenon of the 1940’s when the All-American Girls Professional Baseball League was in its heyday, later celebrated in the movie, “A League of Their Own,” starring Tom Hanks, Madonna and Geena Davis. Through photos, original posters, framed postcards, game programs and magazine articles, the exhibit reveals the birth of women’s ball in the mid-1800’s through the onset of the sport at women’s colleges, such as Vassar in 1866 and Smith College in 1879, and on to the present day crop of outstanding athletes swinging bats and hurling balls. Organized by Mid-America Arts Alliance, which takes their exhibitions into just 100 small and medium-sized communities each year, the exhibit in San Angelo is the only stop for the show in Texas. If Linedrives and Lipstick comes to your area, don’t miss it. It was well worth going out in the heat.

         

Now it’s on to Costa Rica and the luscious tropical weather I love. Pura Vida, here we come! 

Party Time in Portland!

It was an entertainment edifice unlike any I’d ever seen. We basically had a four-lane bowling alley all to ourselves. The unusual facility was called Players and was located just a block away from the excellent Tigard West Motel 6 where Layne’s and my children were staying this past weekend. The family group included my son Damian, his vivacious friend Santina and her adorable baby girl Zaya, plus my lovable 13-year-old grandson Kai and their dog Achilles; then there was Layne’s son Jess and his family, amazing wife April, beautiful Sierra and precocious 10-year-old Orion.

Sierra and April 

Damian had discovered the place and found that it included a large video game arcade, shuffleboard, billiards, food, drink and the bowling alleys, all under one roof.  After a big extended family afternoon party at Layne’s sister Annie’s house on Saturday, Damian and Kai had wanted to check out Players and perhaps bowl awhile. Soon Jess and April joined them and when Layne and I arrived, the post-party party was in full swing - literally, as everyone took their turn swinging, rolling, throwing or guttering their balls down the lane. The younger kids, of course, found the game a challenge so when Kai stepped up for his turn and knocked down eight balls, leaving a split, he groaned in dismay at the odds of getting the spare. But he lined up carefully, made his approach and threw the ball, slicing the edge of the left pin just enough to flick it over and knock down the other one. A perfect spare! An even more unlikely occurrence came when Santina urged me to take her turn, just to see how I could do. So discarding my wedge heels in favor of bare feet, I picked up a couple of balls until I found a nice red one I thought I could handle. Now mind you, the only bowling I’ve done in some 30 years has been on our Wii game so it’s not like I expected to help Santina’s score much. But in a moment of Zen I threw the ball, and as we all watched with mouths agape, that red ball rolled straight and true and slid into the pocket for a strike! Nothing short of a miracle.

Grandma Kat & Kai - photo by Kai

Both our kid’s families are gone now, Damian and Kai headed back to San Francisco, Jess and April already back in Spokane, Santina and Zaya on a plane today going home to Spokane as well. But I’m sure all would agree that it was a fantastic weekend.

After Layne and I flew in late Wednesday night, the fun began on Thursday when he and I and Damian and Kai went out in a drizzling rain to play a round of golf at the nearby King City course. But by the sixth hole, Kai and I had had enough of such cold, wet “fun” so we headed back to the hotel to dry out and dog-sit Achilles. Meanwhile, hardcore golfers Layne and Damian continued on for the full 18 holes, preparing themselves for the more difficult course facing them on Friday.

Zaya graces us all with her smile

On Friday with Damian and Layne out on the golf course with Layne’s brother Ray, Kai and I spent the morning together, walking Achilles, playing video games (well, I watched) and having a leisurely breakfast -- from a grandma’s point of view, the perfect way to spend time! The golfers eventually returned, Ray having won as usual, and Damian headed to the airport to collect Santina and Zaya. That evening, we all went out for some excellent Thai food at Pacific Breeze near Annie’s house. Precious little Zaya kept us well entertained, bestowing her sweet smile on us from her purple throne perched up on the table. With the arrival of Jess and April and their children by car later that evening, the family flock was complete. We were up late that night drinking wine, laughing, talking and strumming a clever “backpacker” guitar Jess had brought along and gave to his dad.

Layne and his new guitar

But the highlight of the weekend had to be the Saturday afternoon gathering of the clan and long-time friends from all over the Portland area. From the youngest, Troy and Julie’s energetic twins Berik and Bowen, to the family matriarch Hazel, who proudly claims to be “98 and feeling great!” -- the backyard was brimming over with laughter and chatter, footballs and water pistols, good food and good cheer.

Friends & family:  Photo by Santina - thanks, Santina!

 Even the weather cooperated with a picture-perfect blue sky and a nice breeze. Layne and I got credit for bringing the good Costa Rican weather with us but perhaps the honor really belongs to the simple magic of a loving family. Pura Vida to all!!

Weather Woes and Family Fun

         Well, Toto, we’re not in Costa Rica anymore! In fact, we’re huddled indoors in Portland, Oregon, in a cold rainstorm following a hurried drive across Mount Hood to miss the foot of snow in the forecast. After the balmy weather we’ve become accustomed to in beautiful Atenas, Alajuela Province, Costa Rica, the return to the United States has been a rough adjustment. Who would have thought, here in mid-May, that we’d need muck boots and down coats?

         Tomorrow, leaving Layne behind here in the frigid Northwest, I will fly to warmer climes in Texas. The mid-80’s forecast combined with typical Texas humidity should feel more like Costa Rican weather. From San Angelo in the west, my mom and I will drive to Austin in Central Texas for still more residency work. In the Capital city, I will take my birth certificate to the Secretary of State for certification in my home state. Next, we’ll drive on to Houston to deliver my now-certified birth certificate to the Costa Rican consulate there, which has jurisdiction over Arkansas, Colorado, Kansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Nebraska, New Mexico, Oklahoma as well as Texas. With $40 and a self-addressed, stamped envelope, I should obtain my authenticated document by mail within a few days. If all goes well at the consulate, Mother and I will continue on to Galveston for a short vacation at the beach.

         All of this comes on the heels of other residency adventures last week when Layne and I headed for the local Sheriff’s Department for what we thought would be a simple task: to obtain a “clearance letter” stating that we have a clean police record. Foolishly, we assumed it would be a matter of looking us up online and printing out a computerized report. But, no. If it’s not the bizarre and convoluted requirements of the Costa Rican Immigration Department we’re dealing with, it’s American bureaucratic idiocy we face. In this case, we arrived at the Sheriff’s office only to learn that we needed an appointment and that they were booking dates two weeks out. Not only that, but since the person who would be signing our letter was not a public official, such as the Sheriff himself, but only a “sheriff’s technician,” the signature must be notarized to meet Costa Rican immigration requirements. Therefore we must bring along to our appointment a Notary Public because the Sheriff’s office doesn’t have one on staff. Go figure. Undaunted, we made our appointment for after we return from this trip to Oregon and Texas and we even found a “mobile Notary” online who agreed to meet us there for a reasonable fee.

         Reasonable fee in that case but still the various fees are quickly adding up as we found on our next task, the trip to get our marriage certificate authenticated. The following day we headed up the High Sierras into Nevada where Layne and I were married. At the County Recorder’s office in Minden, we easily obtained a dated and embossed copy of our marriage certificate. Ka-ching, another $15. But the fee at the Secretary of State’s office was where we really faced sticker shock: either pay $95 for 24-hour expedited service or wait five weeks or more for the authenticated document. And if you actually need to obtain the document in one hour, get ready to pay $1000! And you thought slot machines were the only form of legalized highway robbery in Nevada.

         We are determined to get these documents pulled together, certified and authenticated and mailed off to our attorney Monika Valerio de Ford in Costa Rica by mid-June but it has been, and continues to be, a challenge with obstacles at every turn. Yet these confusions pale in comparison to the still-unsettled state of the new residency law in Costa Rica. Earlier this year, our attorney understood the new law to require applicants to join the Caja, the national medical insurance group, as part of the application process. But in a phone conversation with Monika a few days ago, we learned that the latest interpretation of the new regulations indicate that membership in Caja must wait until after residency is achieved. That information, however, was only in a La Nacion newspaper report so next week Monika plans to check with the officials at Caja and with Immigration to see if she can get a definitive answer. In the interim, Layne’s status is unclear since he joined Caja before we left Costa Rica! And to further complicate things, we find that Banco Nacional’s online payment system is not set up for payments by non-residents into Caja and yet Layne’s June payment will soon be due. Wurra, wurra.

         Still, when we look outside at the weather and we calculate the added expenses we face here in the States, our little chalet in Costa Rica looks very good indeed and we can hardly wait to return. Visits with family and friends are the delightful rewards for enduring the trials and tribulations of these frozen northlands!