That guy right there, he's pretty great.

And no, I don't ALWAYS wear that dress.

One moving day down; can't wait for the next.

Our mad scramble to find a new home came almost down to the wire. A few weeks before we had to move out on October 15, we made arrangements to move into a rental. The owner of the home was planning to travel, perhaps to be gone even through the entire high season, so we were assured a place until January, possibly even until March or April. In fact, the owner kept implying that she would indeed be gone that long and we would be fine through high season -- which is not a time you want to be looking for a place to live in Coronado.

Hooray! The property is an older Panamanian-style home, but well-kept with a gorgeous backyard. There are also a few casitas on the property that the owner rents out, so we would have revolving neighbors throughout our stay. No problem -- great opportunity to meet people!

The price was right, for high season in Coronado, and we agreed. We paid the first month. Our stay was to include a daily housekeeper who would wash the dishes, as well as a few nights in a second property that the owner has in the city.

You know this doesn't have a super-happy ending-so-far, right?

By move-in day, things had changed. The owner had taken a job as a real estate agent, so she wasn't planning to travel after all. She didn't really want to move out of her place, but we were coming in, so she was stuck. She had just bought a brand new condo in one of the towers, so she was going to move there, but it wasn't ready yet -- so she moved into one of her own casitas. Then she got a renter, so she changed casitas.

What this meant for us was that she was constantly on the back porch, stomping around and sighing repeatedly, exaggeratedly. We cowered inside.

Oh, and the television doesn't work (not a huge deal for us; we mostly watch movies via the internet, but there's a principle at stake, because she didn't mention a non-working television). Oh, and that Vitamix blender (you KNOW how much I love blenders) that was mentioned to us as a selling point when we were deciding whether or not to move in is going with her to the new condo. Oh, and that daily housekeeper? Not so much.

The rent didn't change, though.

By this time, we'd already paid the remainder of what we owed, which would get us through until December 15 (10 days after we leave for our trip to the States). But then she introduced me to a friend of hers one day and said that we'd be living there until December 1. Time for a talk.

I stationed myself on the back porch to work at the table, waiting for her to emerge from the casita and begin her stomping routine, which she did. Calmly, I asked her for a chat. She was quite busy for a few minutes, but then managed to find the time to sit down with me.

I told her we'd move out tomorrow if we had a place to go, but we did not, so we would settle for getting some money back and leaving on December 1. She apologized, and admitted that she hadn't wanted to move, but she felt like she had to since she'd agreed to rent to us. I told her I would have rather known about that when we still had time to find a new place, and maybe we could have figured something out. Anything would be better than feeling terribly like an unwanted prisoner in what was supposed to be our own temporary home.

I have slept better from then on out, but the situation hasn't improved that much. She still lingers on the back porch. She's still here more often than not. And she has become most definitely not my favorite person. Looking forward to December 1, with no intention of using our nights at her city condo.

The birthday boy looks forward to another year.

Brent's birthday falls within a few days of Denise's birthday, so we all celebrated together with a beach barbecue and volleyball extravaganza. Happy birthday, babe.

Big beach crowd to celebrate Brent and Denise.

No beach birthday is complete without volleyball.

The birthday royalty: Denise and Brent.