Hey Internal Revenue Service, what's shakin?
Just call me Waldo. It appears that the IRS had no trouble whatsoevah finding me when they thought I owed them 16 THOUSAND dollars. Now, just a few months later, when it turns out that they owe me money, they can't seem to figure out where I live.
Go fig.
But really, friends at the IRS, I have updated my address with you. I have sent you letters. I have filed my tax returns. You have even sent me mail at my PO Box in Mexico. You have called me at my house here in San Juan... what do you mean you don't know where I am?
Ah, but wait, that was all back when you thought I owed you money. Now that the shoe is on the other hand you can't seem to figure out where I am.
I'm in Mexico! I'm right where you left me two months ago! Send me my money already.
Monday, November 9, 2009
A Post About Mucking Around
Sometimes I hesitate to post the personal. I'm sure it'd be a lot more interesting if I got my lazy fingers to type up a nice piece about el dia de los muertos or our little jaunt to the coast. But then I remember that I'm selfish and I'm posting because that's what I feel like doing, and frankly it's other topics that are on my mind.
I guess in a lot of ways life has settled down here. I've become a whole lot more content being here, though maybe it's not so much contentment that I feel as acceptance or resignation. Or maybe I've just been happily distracted by visitors, friends from home who've kept my spirits buoyed. Or maybe I'm just too busy and too exhausted taking care of my baby to think about much else. Any way I spin it, I'm not living in the pits of woe I was in nine months ago.
Blogging has helped. I guess it's therapeutic. I always knew I was blogging for my own benefit not because I thought anyone else would be entertained much by what little I have to say. Still, I started blogging, and just getting it all out in English was a big help. And then, oh and then, I found all these other American women living in Mexico with their husbands, many of them with young kids, and they're all blogging away about all this crap we're all facing, and all the wonderful stuff too, and suddenly I had this weird feeling of community or that at least I wasn't alone. And misery: it sure do love its company. So here I am reading these other blogos every day, half the time the posts are about exactly what's been going on in my head, and I want to write one big "I know exactly what you mean!" comment over and over again, and "Thank you so much for blogging. It means so much to me." and suddenly I find myself, still not thrilled to be here, but somehow managing it a whole hell of a lot better.
And then there are all my amazing friends - who send me email or come visit or send little gifts for my fat man child, and every gesture, every laugh, means so much.
And maybe it's just time - that I'm getting used to living with cockroaches and rats and the smell of burning garbage and sewage in the streets and constant noise and sexism and machoism and being stared at and not having any friends down here, and having to explain and defend every assumption, value and opinion and just being really lonely. At least a little bit used to them. Those things still drive me crazy.
I'm still frustrated a lot of the time. It bothers me how Hernan forgot how to do any housework since moving back in with his mother, how he now expects me to do it all. I still have no idea what to do about him going out all the time with dudes and leaving me alone and lonely, and I have to nearly break his arm just to hang out with me, because I used to think we enjoyed each other's company. It's hard that I feel like the freak all the time because I don't have anyone who shares my persectives on child raising (or anything else), and I feel like a bad mother for holding my baby "too much", for nursing him, for using cloth diapers. And I wish I had friends here. And I wish I had money and a job. And I wish sometimes for a whole lot of things.
But then I know too that I'm handling those things better than when I first got here. That I've come to really value the company of my in-laws, and I'm daily thankful I like them so much, and they're so accepting of me, and that my little Hanix can grow up with a big, loving family. And I've started liking a lot of things about being here and maybe I'm a little less uptight than I used to be. And probably this is all character-building anyway, right? So I'll look back on it all and feel it was a good thing in the end. Right?
So why am I sharing this (unintersting, poorly written, overly-personal) brain fart with you all? (Because I'm selfish. I think we alrady covered that.) Because (here's where I make up a reason for the time you just wasted reading it), in the end I guess we're all just mucking around in our lives, trying to make them satisfying and pleasing, or maybe noble and good, or maybe just entertaining. But somehow we're trying to do it right. And for me to "do it right", this whole living business, I guess I've needed a lot of practice and a lot of support. The practice I'm still getting, but the support I've had. So I guess, in a way, this is one big "thank you" to all the great people who've been rooting for us, and to all the strangers who support me by sharing their stories. And I guess I'm just saying I'm trying not to let you all down, and I swear I'm starting to get the hang of it.
I guess in a lot of ways life has settled down here. I've become a whole lot more content being here, though maybe it's not so much contentment that I feel as acceptance or resignation. Or maybe I've just been happily distracted by visitors, friends from home who've kept my spirits buoyed. Or maybe I'm just too busy and too exhausted taking care of my baby to think about much else. Any way I spin it, I'm not living in the pits of woe I was in nine months ago.
Blogging has helped. I guess it's therapeutic. I always knew I was blogging for my own benefit not because I thought anyone else would be entertained much by what little I have to say. Still, I started blogging, and just getting it all out in English was a big help. And then, oh and then, I found all these other American women living in Mexico with their husbands, many of them with young kids, and they're all blogging away about all this crap we're all facing, and all the wonderful stuff too, and suddenly I had this weird feeling of community or that at least I wasn't alone. And misery: it sure do love its company. So here I am reading these other blogos every day, half the time the posts are about exactly what's been going on in my head, and I want to write one big "I know exactly what you mean!" comment over and over again, and "Thank you so much for blogging. It means so much to me." and suddenly I find myself, still not thrilled to be here, but somehow managing it a whole hell of a lot better.
And then there are all my amazing friends - who send me email or come visit or send little gifts for my fat man child, and every gesture, every laugh, means so much.
And maybe it's just time - that I'm getting used to living with cockroaches and rats and the smell of burning garbage and sewage in the streets and constant noise and sexism and machoism and being stared at and not having any friends down here, and having to explain and defend every assumption, value and opinion and just being really lonely. At least a little bit used to them. Those things still drive me crazy.
I'm still frustrated a lot of the time. It bothers me how Hernan forgot how to do any housework since moving back in with his mother, how he now expects me to do it all. I still have no idea what to do about him going out all the time with dudes and leaving me alone and lonely, and I have to nearly break his arm just to hang out with me, because I used to think we enjoyed each other's company. It's hard that I feel like the freak all the time because I don't have anyone who shares my persectives on child raising (or anything else), and I feel like a bad mother for holding my baby "too much", for nursing him, for using cloth diapers. And I wish I had friends here. And I wish I had money and a job. And I wish sometimes for a whole lot of things.
But then I know too that I'm handling those things better than when I first got here. That I've come to really value the company of my in-laws, and I'm daily thankful I like them so much, and they're so accepting of me, and that my little Hanix can grow up with a big, loving family. And I've started liking a lot of things about being here and maybe I'm a little less uptight than I used to be. And probably this is all character-building anyway, right? So I'll look back on it all and feel it was a good thing in the end. Right?
So why am I sharing this (unintersting, poorly written, overly-personal) brain fart with you all? (Because I'm selfish. I think we alrady covered that.) Because (here's where I make up a reason for the time you just wasted reading it), in the end I guess we're all just mucking around in our lives, trying to make them satisfying and pleasing, or maybe noble and good, or maybe just entertaining. But somehow we're trying to do it right. And for me to "do it right", this whole living business, I guess I've needed a lot of practice and a lot of support. The practice I'm still getting, but the support I've had. So I guess, in a way, this is one big "thank you" to all the great people who've been rooting for us, and to all the strangers who support me by sharing their stories. And I guess I'm just saying I'm trying not to let you all down, and I swear I'm starting to get the hang of it.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Fishing For Criminals?
So I took Hanix, my giant baby, for a walk today. Sported him in the Baby Bjorn carry pack thang my sister sent me. I frickin love carry packs for babies. The hands free thing is just a bonus. The real deal is that I can no longer carry my baby in my arms for any significant period of time without my arms going numb. I should probably start working out so I keep up with his weight gain.
Anyway, this post is not about my baby or my weak mom arms. This post is about police fishermen. As in: I walked down to the malecon (boardwalk thing), and the only people down there were two men fishing. They were each holding a coke bottle, around which they had wrapped some kind of wire or twine, to the ends of which were attached hooks, I assume. Coke bottle in one hand, they would swing the loose end of the wire laso-style in the air and then toss it out into the lake.
The funny part of this is that both men were police officers dressed in full uniform. Full uniform down here means they had big ol' rifles slung over their backs.
Oh how I wish I'd had my camera!
It just makes me wonder... were they on duty? I assume so, given their fancy getups and their rifles! So... were they bored and thought, "Hey, let's go see if there's any crime happening at the malecon. Plus we can pick up dinner." Or maybe, "Hey, partner, it's lame we haven't gotten to shoot anything all day, let's go catch some fish and then shoot 'em." Or perhaps, "The people in this town or so poor, we'll have better luck getting bribes from the fish in the lake."
Who knows? I certainly wasn't going to ask.
Anyway, this post is not about my baby or my weak mom arms. This post is about police fishermen. As in: I walked down to the malecon (boardwalk thing), and the only people down there were two men fishing. They were each holding a coke bottle, around which they had wrapped some kind of wire or twine, to the ends of which were attached hooks, I assume. Coke bottle in one hand, they would swing the loose end of the wire laso-style in the air and then toss it out into the lake.
The funny part of this is that both men were police officers dressed in full uniform. Full uniform down here means they had big ol' rifles slung over their backs.
Oh how I wish I'd had my camera!
It just makes me wonder... were they on duty? I assume so, given their fancy getups and their rifles! So... were they bored and thought, "Hey, let's go see if there's any crime happening at the malecon. Plus we can pick up dinner." Or maybe, "Hey, partner, it's lame we haven't gotten to shoot anything all day, let's go catch some fish and then shoot 'em." Or perhaps, "The people in this town or so poor, we'll have better luck getting bribes from the fish in the lake."
Who knows? I certainly wasn't going to ask.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Less Poop In My Life
Out brief stint as pet owners has come to an end. While I was away, Goblin the Puppy got attacked by a bigger dog and ended up buried in the back yard.
No more cute puppy pics.
No more cute puppy pics.
Baby Giant
This is my baby update. If you don't like babies, and stuff, don't bother.
So my baby is a giant.
He's four months old and weighs over 20 pounds - the average for an 11 or 12 month old baby (so say the Internets). How did he grow that much in so short a time?? He's not that chubby, just really long and ... can you call a baby "strapping"? You know, he's just big boned! Apparently he's over the 95th weight percentile. He dwarfs his 5 month old cousin.
And I think he's got super powers because he totally sits by himself and can support all of his weight when standing on his legs, though he needs help getting into that position and maintaining his balance. Kind of like a drunkard. Maybe that's not that crazy. What do I know about babies' physical development? Maybe every mama thinks her baby is growing crazy fast. What if I told you he were already running and doing back flips? Would you call me a dirty liar?
But the oddest thing is that he's growing one long, white hair out of the top of his head, right in the middle. It's ridiculous.
Ah, well, it's entertaining. Have I mention that San Juan is boring?
Today I got belly laughs out of him by doing the following hilarious activities: tickling him, blowing raspberries, singing nursery rhymes, banging a spoon on a pot, hanging laundry, getting peed on, and chopping an onion. I should be an entertainer, because apparently I'm a riot. (This is also a tip off of just how thrilling my life is these days.)
He has also learned to screech like I imagine a velociraptor might have screeched when expressing annoyance at its velociraptor buddy for having made off with the whole kill. He enjoys this new skill and uses it whenever boredom sets in. Or whenever he wants help getting onto his feet (to do his buoy dance.)
So that's my baby: a giant, screeching, wobbly, super-powered, bundle of cuteness with one long, white hair growing out his head. Makes a mama so proud!
So my baby is a giant.
He's four months old and weighs over 20 pounds - the average for an 11 or 12 month old baby (so say the Internets). How did he grow that much in so short a time?? He's not that chubby, just really long and ... can you call a baby "strapping"? You know, he's just big boned! Apparently he's over the 95th weight percentile. He dwarfs his 5 month old cousin.
And I think he's got super powers because he totally sits by himself and can support all of his weight when standing on his legs, though he needs help getting into that position and maintaining his balance. Kind of like a drunkard. Maybe that's not that crazy. What do I know about babies' physical development? Maybe every mama thinks her baby is growing crazy fast. What if I told you he were already running and doing back flips? Would you call me a dirty liar?
But the oddest thing is that he's growing one long, white hair out of the top of his head, right in the middle. It's ridiculous.
Ah, well, it's entertaining. Have I mention that San Juan is boring?
Today I got belly laughs out of him by doing the following hilarious activities: tickling him, blowing raspberries, singing nursery rhymes, banging a spoon on a pot, hanging laundry, getting peed on, and chopping an onion. I should be an entertainer, because apparently I'm a riot. (This is also a tip off of just how thrilling my life is these days.)
He has also learned to screech like I imagine a velociraptor might have screeched when expressing annoyance at its velociraptor buddy for having made off with the whole kill. He enjoys this new skill and uses it whenever boredom sets in. Or whenever he wants help getting onto his feet (to do his buoy dance.)
So that's my baby: a giant, screeching, wobbly, super-powered, bundle of cuteness with one long, white hair growing out his head. Makes a mama so proud!
Thursday, October 15, 2009
I Heart Interacting With Government Agencies, Except Not Really
I've been getting lots of practice filling out forms and filing applications and running around government buildings which only allow me to bring in one (ONE!) diaper with my baby (thank you, US Consulate).
Throw this at ya:
Hernan's immigration paperwork
Hanix's Mexican paperwork (birth certificate, health card, etc.)
Hanix's American paperwork (passport, birth abroad certificate, etc.)
My paperwork to get a residency visa (including registering our marriage in Mexico)
Plus, hello! IRS wants to know why I didn't file taxes back in '03 or '04.
Fan. Tastic.
I didn't file back then because I was a student and was earning approximately, give or take, more or less, ballpark figure, rounded to the nearest dollar, about "jack".
Turns out they got it in their heads that I had earned my father's income, because he was still claiming me as a dependent back then. Let me assure you, one and all, that that was not the case. So, plus fees and fines and interest, they reckoned out a debt of more than 16,000 dollars.
And they've been withholding my 2008 refund.
Makes me so mad. I need that refund! I'm broke, damnit! I have no 16,000 US dollars to give up. Give me my measly refund so I can buy tortillas!
Jerks.
This all kind of came to a head right around Hanix's birth, but has been stewing ever since, what with Mexico's rapid mail system and all. Plus the IRS can't seem to figure out where I live even though I've thrice given them my address. Maybe they just don't want to pay the extra postage, so they just keep sending my mail to my folks' place.
I will say that it seems to be settling down now. They've agreed I didn't have to file for 2003, and for 2004 they're assessing me fees and fines and interest and spankings summing just under 300 US Dollars, which I also don't really have, but not in the same way I don't have 16,000. So I consider this a win.
And hopefully one of these days I'll be seeing my 2008 refund. Wish I could charge them interest on that. And late fees.
So tired of dealing with government agencies.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
In Oregon
Here's my mini-update. I'm in Eugene with my fam. I'm pretty bummed that I didn't get to do my California tour and visit everyone in SC, MV, OAK, SF, etc. Since we pretty much just went from the US Consulate in GDL (to get Hanix's passport) to the airport I didn't have much of a chance to plan anything out. And then I was dependent on Hernan's in-laws for putting me up. My broke ass can't afford a rental car or a cell phone, and I didn't have much access to the internets, so I had a boohard time getting ahold of anyone. Boohard- yep I just made that up, but it's a good word I suggest you adopt (PRO). I didn't even call my brother!
So instead of my magical mystery tour of friends and food in California I was worried I'd end up having to spring for some shady Santa Cruz motel. So I jumped on a train and now I'm in Eugene. Ah well, at least we made it to the funeral.
It's not the trip I'd been hoping to make Dec. or Jan, which is almost certainly off the table now. But I am appreciating being back in the US.
I like flushing my TP. That's fun.
And I like drinking tap water - it's so clean and tasty! and won't give me hepatitis!
It smells so god damn good here - like trees and flowers instead of sewage and car exhaust.
Food Fantasia
I get to feel so smart using my complex English syntax.
I saw the ocean, and it was real pretty
I saw snow and tall trees
It's so quiet here without bullhorns.
Newspapers.
I just miss my friends. Dag nabbit. Boo hard. Well... next time , I s'pose.
Now it's time for a walk through the neighborhood. We're going to look for any blackberries that might have lingered.
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