Dry season hits you harder the second time around.

We arrived in Panama at the start of the dry season. I remember nonstop hot, sunny days, and trying to go on a run before 7:00am. Then rainy season arrived in April, and that was great.

Now we're well into dry season again, and I'm wondering how in the heck I could have forgotten exactly what it was like.  We're back to those non-stop hot, sunny days -- they just seem to be more intense this time around.

Maybe it was because we were so busy settling in to life here, we didn't really notice. Or maybe we've just gotten so spoiled on rainy season (it does last about eight months, after all). I don't know, but what I do know is that even though this is our second time through the dry season, it feels brand new.

Another thing I had sort of forgotten was the wind. I do remember last March, how it would whip through the Bahia lobby, but I don't remember it being everywhere, all season long.

It's actually kind of nice -- it's not too strong (yet), and it creates a great breeze through our condo and keeps it at a pretty comfortable temperature even though we don't have air conditioning in the main room.

But...  I will be glad when the rainy season rolls around again, and we're gifted with overcast days, thunderstorms, and a green landscape. And probably some bugs.

Back to Boquete: Jazz Fest!

We got to Panama last year just in time to know about Boquete's annual jazz and blues festival, but too late to really get our act together and take the five-hour trip. As you know, we've since been to Boquete twice, but we've been planning on going to this festival ever since we missed it last year.

It also happens to coincide with Valentine's Day (not a Brent favorite) and our third anniversary.

Sheldon lives in Boquete, so even though we had tentative plans and wishes to stay at a hostel that has a tree house, we decided to stay with him instead -- which is, of course, an excellent choice.

With the warm days, we ended up deciding not to go to the festival during the day at all. However, every night there are a few official and unofficial festival activities -- mostly jam sessions at various bars around town -- and they were wonderful.

We met a guy with a little trumpet (called a pocket trumpet, I learned), and we asked what band he was with. He said he wasn't with a band, he just happened to be traveling there at the right time. Then what's with the trumpet, we asked.

"I carry this with me everywhere," he said. A true musician. Indeed, he hopped on stage during the jam sessions a couple of times.

During the day, we opted for hiking and, of course, true to Boquete form, eating. We took a hike to waterfall and on the way we saw the rare and elusive quetzals as well as several glass-winged butterflies, another rare species. It was a beautiful day for a hike, and it was such a treat to see those creatures.

On the third day, we enjoyed one last breakfast with Sheldon at Sugar & Spice, and started the drive back to Coronado.

Verve MoJoe on the way!

83% of adult Americans are coffee drinkers. (I became one of them myself, after meeting Brent and very nearly freezing ourselves into a coma in Chile.) As a nation we consume 146 billion cups per year.

Now, being in a coffee-producing nation, we have access to some really fantastic coffee. Gotta say, though, that I'm still really excited about Verve's latest incarnation: MoJoe, an iced coffee beverage. Coming soon -- it'll have all the same stellar nutrition you can expect from Vemma with premium natural coffee and 80mg of natural caffeine, no artificial sweeteners/colors/flavors, no high fructose corn syrup, and no dairy.

As an official coffee drinker of three years, I can. Not. Wait.

Nothing matters when we're dancing.

Incredibly, there's now a ballet studio in tiny little Coronado.

As certain family members know, I had this thing for being on my toes when I was little. I remember wanting to take ballet classes so badly, but if there were any available, they would have been at least an hour away, so it never happened. Plus, I had basketballs and stuff to play with.

So I had to do it. I joined ballet class.

With 10-year-old girls.

The idea was to have an adult class twice a week, but there are only two of us -- so we get one day to ourselves (Tuesdays) and one day with the crazy flexible little girls (Monday).

I've only done a couple of classes so far, but I'm loving it. It's difficult physically, of course, but it also requires so much concentration on my part (new steps, new ways of moving, lots of body parts to coordinate) that it becomes an hour and a half of meditation, as well. I've found it impossible to think of anything else while I'm in class. Only ballet, and how somewhat awkward I am at it.

The Local Locos

I stopped helping out at the restaurant in Gorgona in order to start helping out at their new location, which opened in Coronado.

Doing things like opening a restaurant in Panama is no easy task, and so it was that it seemed like we weren't going to pull it off, and I only ever know half the story of what's going on.

But we had invited about 60 people to have a dinner featuring some of the highlights on the new menu, as well as five carefully chosen glasses of wine. (I got stuck on the Pinot Noir.) So we plowed ahead.

Despite our careful consideration when it came to inviting guests, and an explicit notice on the invitation that each was being invited because of how laid back and understanding he or she was of what it's like to open a restaurant in Panama, we still ended up with a few complainers. Unfortunate, to be sure, but the food was good, the wine was good, and people danced. This is going to be fun.

An ode to the resolution.

I don't normally set new year's resolutions, as I've found it easier to just implement those changes throughout the year as they occur to me or as I realize they need to be done. But I still love and respect the resolution, because I love when people make a decision to change their lives for the better -- and I love it even more when they follow through.

As a fitness instructor, I've had a front-row seat for many resolution successes and failures. I noticed a few trends that seemed to indicate whether or not people would give up or not.

Some of those who quit the gym after a couple of weeks were so focused on speeding toward their desired result. Every day that they weighed the same as they did the day before was frustrating and painful. They couldn't seem to wrap their heads around the fact that it took them a long time to gain weight or to fall out of shape -- and it would take awhile to lose it or to increase their fitness.

The exercisers who were able to focus on each workout and appreciate where they were, those who were able to congratulate themselves for a job well done on each particular day, were still in the gym by March, by July, and beyond. It's what yoga has been teaching me all along: the best place to live is in the present.

You can't be plagued by guilt if you're not dwelling on the past -- on too many chocolate chip cookies and too many missed workouts. You can't be frustrated if you're not dwelling on the future -- the hopes of a possibly unattainable body or the fear that you might never get where you want to be. Taking each day at a time was a huge factor in those successfully executed resolutions.

I haven't had a gym for about a year. For awhile, I really missed those workouts -- I missed lifting weights. But I'm starting to appreciate what not having a gym is doing for me.

At first, I felt like those failed resolutionists, freaked out that I was failing my body by not doing the sorts of workouts I was accustomed to. Then I got back to my roots. I ran more (the most portable workout), took long walks, and did a lot more yoga and pilates. Even though my cardiovascular and muscular endurance aren't what they used to be, I'm thrilled with the creative crosstraining I've been doing. I work out every day, but I don't have a routine: I do what feels good. I don't feel guilty if I only run one time this week. And based on what I learned from the successful and failed resolutions, I think this approach is going to do me just fine.

So once again this year, I don't really have a resolution. But if you do, I hope you take it day by day -- and then one of those days, you'll look back and go, wow: that change set in, and I didn't even realize it.

Each year happier than the last.

It was down to the wire before we knew how and where we'd be celebrating the new year. Our friend's invited us to join them at another friend's place, so it was sort of a third-party invitation, but we were welcomed and we had a great time.

The fireworks stole the show, as they did when Jack, Joel, and I rang in 2007 in Vienna. My only regret is that we were in a backyard rather than on a rooftop somewhere, though I have since heard that every rooftop was incredibly crowded. I appreciated the breathing room we had.

After the fireworks died down, we went out to the beach for a few minutes, listening to the waves and staring at that dark, starry sky.

Happy 2014 -- to the best yet.

Is it still called dinner if I haven't stopped eating since breakfast?

Eating lightly, but still.

We got up on Christmas and invited Larry over for a gift exchange. Brent wasn't feeling well, and even in the minutes as we waited for Larry to arrive, he deteriorated until it became obvious that he would not be joining in the day's many festivities. I was so disappointed, as I love holidays and I love spending them with that guy.

Brent knows me well: I got a blender (YAYAYAY!!!) and a necklace he made himself using a perfectly triangular green rock we'd found in Playa Venao last month. Love it.

He went back to bed, and I went to Don and Jill's for brunch. This is a yearly tradition at their place, and it has grown to include a large number of community members. The food was excellent, and I lingered until after 1:00pm, drinking entirely too much coffee.

The next stop was back to Cat's place for Christmas dinner. We had a smaller group that evening, and we'd all agreed to wear our pajamas. I made Mom's date balls and the most delightful key lime fudge.

Merry Christmas Eve, now with sand toys.

On Christmas Eve, we went to Cat's place in Gorgona to enjoy a beautiful sunset view of the Pacific Ocean, the company of great people, and a killer meal like only Cat can prepare.

(Seriously, when it comes to hostessing, there is no better role model.)

We each brought a white elephant gift and played a gift exchange game.

I'm a huge fan of gift exchange games, as you might remember from my Sinterklaas experience in 2006. This one was a little different, but every bit as fun.

First, we all drew playing cards. The number on the card indicated who was first, second, third, and so on. The first person was allowed to choose a gift to unwrap. Each person afterward was allowed either to choose a new gift, or to steal one that had already been opened.  However a gift could only be stolen so many times before it forever belonged to the last person holding it.

With so many couples present, it became incredibly strategic, as one partner stole a present so that the other partner could steal it from them, and so on. We kept a close watch on the bottle of rum, and we came home with it in the end. That, and a bucket of sand toys and other random dollar-store items.

Other gems that our friends took home included five rolls of colorful duct tape, volleyballs, and blow-up pool toys.

Tropical Christmases

It's funny how, even though I've never been a fan of the snow and cold, I like it when Christmas is in the winter.

Maybe it's just because it doesn't quite feel like Christmas here. Like in Argentina, there aren't so many decorations and specialty food items around to constantly remind you that Christmas is approaching. Even though the malls here did the big Black Friday nonsense, locally it has all been much more low key.

That's not to say we don't have some lovely gatherings planned. I do love the holidays, wherever I am.

The case of the too-short vacation.

Not that we really need a vacation from Panama, but it's always nice to be home.

Less than two weeks, though, just isn't enough. Even in the holy-freaking cold.

I arrived and went straight up to South Dakota -- Brent drove me to Cheyenne, and Mom picked me up there. Unfortunately, Jack and Avery weren't able to come visit with the little boys, so I wasn't able to see them.

A few lovely days later, we did a similar swap in Cheyenne and I returned to Denver for a few days with Brent and Jody.

Whenever we plan a trip, we try to schedule it around work commitments as best we can. Brent wasn't wanting to miss a lot of days at the chiropractic office, because it really kills momentum, and with the holidays it's all a little bit screwy anyway. So we booked this short little trip, 12 days, and it just went so crazy fast. Anything less than two weeks just isn't enough, especially when you're splitting time between two places. Next time, we'll stay longer.

The holiday season is full of gifts.

First gift. MOVING DAY!

Our Australian friends Dave and Vicki lived in a lovely condo in a small complex just across the street from the beach. Turns out, they were leaving on December 1, exactly when we needed a new home. So today, we moved into our 2nd floor three-bedroom lofted condo. We love it. And, naturally, we are wildly relieved to be out of that other place which shall no longer be named.

The rest of the condos here are owned by Panamanians from the city who come spend the occasional weekend here. So, we pretty much have the place to ourselves.

Second gift: TRAVEL DAY!

Coming up on December 5, we are going to visit the States for the first time in nearly a year...

The Second Thanksgiving

For the real Thanksgiving day, we wanted to spend time with Larry. We were invited to Angie's place for a small gathering. (Angie was a regular in the water aerobics class I taught over the summer in her building.) It was just us, Angie, Bruce and Robin, Bruce and Robin's landlords, and a lovely Argentine/German couple. And, supposedly, Larry, but he didn't show up! We called him, and he just said he wasn't coming. We were disappointed, and still unsure as to why, but we still had a great time.

Highlight: there were two sweet potato casseroles, but the one with the candied pecans on top was my favorite, and I could have lived on that for days. We ended up staying late that evening, speaking a mixture of English and Spanish, and reminiscing a bit about Argentina with the Argentinian half of the young couple.

The First Thanksgiving (this week)

With so many people to see and so much love to spread, one Thanksgiving just wasn't enough this year, so yesterday we got the Thanksgiving season started with a wonderful meal. Denise is house-sitting for a couple of months, so we had a fantastic location for the party.

I had my first taste of imported Turducken (a turkey stuffed with a duck stuffed with a chicken). A little too much meat for me, what with so many mashed potatoes lying around. I made pecan pie bars, which are every bit as good as pecan pie except that you can eat them with your hands.

As always, lots to be thankful for.

My birthday's not over, and it hasn't even started yet.

Well played, Brent.

On Saturday, I was feeling good, so we were going to keep our plans to have an early birthday dinner with our friends at Lunarossa, a popular Italian restaurant that we still haven't managed to try.

On our way to the restaurant, Brent said he wanted to stop by Picasso for a drink. I grumbled, because I was already a bit headachey from being hungry (and only recently not being wiped-out sick), and we were just minutes away from the time we were supposed to meet Bruce and Robin at the restaurant. I mean, COME ON. A drink at Picasso never takes just a couple of minutes.

But, I'm a team player, so I got out of the car and followed Brent. As we passed the bar, Claire, our friend and owner of the restaurant, started saying something into the microphone. I looked up and realized everyone was looking at us. And they started singing Happy Birthday.

My first ever surprise party! And Brent managed to plan it all in a town where stories spread like wildfire!

All my favorite people were there, minus a few who couldn't make it. We had a great cake, which came with a story: the first cake Brent commissioned fell apart when Larry went to pick it up, so they had to scramble and get another one at the last minute. It also came with amaretto ice cream.

Not really the best meal to bring myself out of the last dredges of my illness, but I made it work.

It was a beautiful evening, so full of joy and love. I am a lucky girl to know these great people.

Road to recovery.

Yesterday, I woke up feeling quite a lot better. I started eating again, but I'm still taking lemon juice, cranberry juice, and colloidal silver. Today, I'm better yet, though not normal. We have long-held plans to meet some friends for dinner tonight, and it looks like I'm going to make it.

Testing my immune system.

On Saturday, when we were in Playa Venao, I started feeling sick. Really weak. Tired. And my back hurt like crazy.

We went on a walk, like we tend to do, and I couldn't even keep up with Brent. Everything just hurt.  I trudged along, determined to make it to the beach from our starting point in Pedasi. Luckily, a local offered us a ride into town shortly after we'd started back (after a break at a beachfront restaurant).

I had expected to feel better by day three, as these sorts of things tend to work their way through my body pretty quickly (go, immune system, go!), but when I wasn't, I went into full-on holistic self-healing.

Doctors are not really an option in my world. I mean, they're available and all, I just don't care to go to them. I think they're too quick to throw drugs at things your body will take care of on its own if you give it the space to do that. Emergency medicine -- now, that stuff is freaking incredible. But antibiotics? Thanks, no thanks.

At some point, I realized the terrible ache in my back wasn't my back at all -- it was inside. It was...my kidneys, perhaps. Without ever having had a kidney infection in my life, I figured that's what it had to be.

I started fasting on Tuesday, just drinking lots of water and lemon juice and pure cranberry. I'm taking colloidal silver at regular intervals and Vemma every night. And I'm trying not to move.

This, too, will pass. I believe in my body's ability to take care of this. But I do wish it would hurry up.

Birthday trip to Playa Venao.

With my birthday coming up, Brent continued the tradition of not buying me jewelry by taking me on a trip. (This totally works out in my favor, by the way -- I'll take the trip over the jewels any day.)

We've been hearing great things about Playa Venao, the surfer's hot spot near the town of Pedasi on the Azuero Peninsula. Brent planned the whole thing, which made it especially awesome.

It was about a four-hour drive -- easy, except for getting through the city of Las Tablas, because there aren't a lot of signs indicating where you should go -- and we arrived at our gorgeous hotel very near Playa Venao.

Brent picked out an incredible place. It was still a bit under construction, so there were men working and very few other guests, but it was really coming along. Our room was enormous, with two beds and lots of rustic, handmade wooden furniture. The room and the hotel grounds were full of intricate tile mosaics on the floors, walls, and benches. We had a charming balcony with a hammock and a view of the water.

They served food, but there was no real menu. They just rattled off a few things when we said we were hungry, and we made some choices.

The highlight was the many animals on the property: emus, chickens, iguanas, and even visiting monkeys and parrots high in the trees every morning and night.

We had direct access to a private beach (made private only because the rocks on each side sort of boxed it in), which was full of scuttling creatures (crabs, crabs, crabs) and beautiful smooth rocks. We found several keepers. Grandpa would have been proud.

We spent the weekend exploring the area, trying various restaurants and walking around Pedasi. (And getting sick. Oh, so sick. More on that soon.)

Bye, Ken and Karen!

Our good friends Ken and Karen have decided to move to Florida. We'll miss them! We always had a great time with them -- and when taking care of their two fantastic little dogs.

Brent and I with Karen at a pool party/potluck at their house.

Driving in Panama: Not really optional, but also not really advisable.

Our little beach town is spread out enough to very nearly require the use of a car. You could get by with just a bike, but not conveniently. I love walking, but you have to consider your final destination. Are you okay with showing up sweaty? No? Then you need a car.

Driving in Panama is one of those things you find a little hard to get used to. Why? This:

1. Blinkers seem to be optional.

2. Hazard lights, though, are in regular use, and usually indicate that the driver is about to do something inadvisable.

3. I have seen a car going backward up an on-ramp.

4. I have seen a car going backward on the shoulder of the Panamerican highway.

5. If someone tries to get quickly through a busy intersection, it's not unusual for the oncoming drivers to actually speed up and honk to punish them.

6. There are too many speed bumps, which makes driving incredibly uncomfortable and painfully slow on certain streets -- but then you realize how necessary they are when you're on a smooth street and you see people driving entirely too fast.

7. The city. That's another story entirely. I have not yet driven in the city and I don't want to, but I have served as co-pilot when Brent was driving, and I honestly don't know how anyone manages without a navigator. Brent was watching the traffic and I was looking for signs, landmarks, turns, cars coming from another direction, hazard lights, and more. It's really a two-person job, driving in the city.

8. There are not a lot of street signs. If you don't know where you're going, you can't count on help.

All this means that I avoid driving when I can. I walk to the yoga studio. The grocery store is on this side of the highway, so it's easy to drive there. In fact, most of what we do happens right here in town, so it's easy for me to go a few weeks without having to drive very far. Brent drives more than I do, but he doesn't mind it as much. And in the end, from grocery trips to city trips to across-the-country trips, we're super grateful to have a car.

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.

Potluck? I'm in.

One of the most incredible things about our life in Panama is our friends.

This community has been so warm, welcoming, and supportive. When I look at the numbers in my phone, I think that I could call any one of them at any time if I needed help. I lived in Denver for about three years, and I couldn't say the same about my little directory there. Not that I didn't know great people in Denver -- they were, are, very great, and I love many of them very much -- but for the most part, In Case of Minor Emergency, they lived too far away or I wouldn't have wanted to bother them or we just weren't THAT close, or something.

Here, everyone supports one another, everyone is very helpful, and we regularly get together and have a fantastic time. There are beautiful ocean views, great food, and like-minded conversation every time.

Just call me Iron Man. (No. Don't. Not even close.)

Every year, Coronado hosts a triathlon, and there's a group of friends and colleagues here who are really getting into the triathlon scene. They have been training together and were very excited about this upcoming event.

Myself, not so much.

I can't really swim. I don't much like to bike. I've been a reluctant runner lately because of my hamstring, which has been causing me some pain. But, as it turns out, you can enter the competition as a team of three, each person doing one leg.

Our friend Rudi would swim, Brent would bike, and I would run the 5k.

Race day was pretty exciting: super high-energy, casual athletes warming up alongside professionals. Rudi is a strong swimmer, so we expected him to do really well on that first leg.

The swim is two laps around the buoys in the ocean, and as people started finishing the first lap, we didn't see him. Finally, we caught site of him still out to sea, really lagging behind. He came out of the water huffing and puffing -- and kind of blue in the face, saying that he was done, he couldn't do the next lap. 

We were really disappointed, but as his breath came back he explained that he had been kicked in the face early on (a common problem during a triathlon swim) and had swallowed a bunch of water. We were disqualified, but the officials let us finish the race.

So Brent took off on his bike, and I did the run. I passed a lot of people, which is fun even when you know that they've already completed a swim and a bike ride, and you're totally fresh. Everyone was encouraging and positive, and I had a great day even though we weren't awarded an official time.

We all went to a friend's house afterward for some champagne and an incredible breakfast. The true triathletes among us were already planning for the next one. I could definitely see getting in as a team again -- but the "sprint" distance was good enough for me.

Just when you think you know what's going on...

I sure do like these ladies! Nobody does pool parties like my Panama friends do pool parties.