Being Connected

I changed from a black berry to an I-phone the day before yesterday and really liked it until I got to St. Martin where it no longer works. No phone service. No access to emails. No connectivity. No worries.

At some point yesterday, I did get in touch with Keller Deal and told her to get it fixed. I have a lot of work to do and a lot of phone calls to return. I borrowed a friend's french phone and while I do not speak french, I somehow managed to get through. So hopefully that will be worked out.

After about half an hour of trying to figure out internet access, I was able to log on and manage 157 emails this morning. Then I jumped on Face Book to let the kids know that I am ok, and now I sit writing this.

This is a special place for me. It is an old place and has no television. The phones in the rooms only connect to the other rooms. The small studio that I am in is tiny with a kitchen, a bathroom, room for a chair and a bed. Of course, I hardly spend any time there so it is enough. Julie and I have a container that stays here and it holds a radio, my mask and fins, assorted Christmas decorations and kitchen ware. The radio plays old music that is in keeping with the ambiance.

My friend Conner is here and he keeps me laughing. Nancy is also here and Carlos about caused an accident when he saw us, slamming on his breaks, jumping out of his still moving vehicle, and runing over to give me a giant bear hug in the middle of the road. Karmia did the same when we arrived, running around from the other side of the desk to hug us welcome.

So I guess that I am connected, just in a different sort of way. A more basic sort of way. So Keller Deal will figure out how to get me connected back to the universe, but in the meantime I'll just heal in this tiny corner of the world.

And Trolly Joe, yes, I am having coffee and watching my neighbors. And enjoying myself as I find healing.