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Those few of you who have persisted in visiting my blog despite the recent dearth of change—and in particular those several who have decried my turning it into an advertisement for a used vehicle–will perhaps be pleased to learn that I’ve finally sold my car. As for the rest of you, trust me—there’s plenty of joy to share in this event.

Buying or selling a car is not as simple a process here in the Republic as it is in the States. There are many more steps involved, administrative and otherwise. Many, many more steps.  And paper. Not a lot of paper copies, but a lot of official rubber stamps. (I have two of my own.)

It probably didn’t help matters that every time I managed to successfully advertise the car here I turned around and left for the United States. The eventual buyer actually tracked me down in the mid-west and then volunteered to wait for several weeks until I returned to Las Galeras!

Anyway, I have the money, if not yet the $7,000p transfer tax. The buyer has the car, if not the current matricula (title) in their name. The transaction should be all wrapped in another couple of weeks. I think.

During the hiatus from me writing on this blog several of you have had heart attacks, at least one has retired, and another (my mom) has moved into assisted living. A couple of babies have cropped up too, and not just here in the RD, So, tell me, what’s new in your world?

In the “passages of life department” my mother has finally given up the Internet after succumbing at the age of 86 to yet one more bout of frustration with Windows. I understand the temptation. I’ll bet that I get an “Amen” to that?

Here in Las Galeras it is now very slow, very quiet. It is hot and breezy in a tropical way. This village is generally a good place to be (despite the hyperbole one might find in certain backwaters of the Internet, spread by an alarmist or two.) Perhaps I will take it upon myself to correct some of the factual misrepresentations about my little village that appear in one discussion forum or another. Perhaps I will not.

It does feel like home here in Las Galeras, even if more than one person did say to me “welcome home” when I was in Richland Center, Wisconsin recently. One woman was even prepared to argue when I denied that RC was home. Home in Takoma Park is also more than “where the cat is” even though the cat is indeed in Takoma.

This leads me to wonder offhandly what it is that I mean when I refer to “home.” If, as Robert Frost said “home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in,” then I suppose that I’m blessed with a number of homes.

Come to think of it, increasing the number of such homes isn’t a half-bad goal in life.

I hope that all is well with you.

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