I pooped in a cup. Again.

(Some forgotten medical reference, but now I am feeling much better, thanks).

Ah yes, February. The shortest month, by far. Days of informal meetings and passings and sitting in the street talking about things and the prices of things and the changes in the prices of things and the situations that lead to the changes in the prices of things. Three or more political parties came to town, including Hipólito with the PRD, Leonel with the PLD and Josecito with the PRSC. And of course everyone changes political association the day that Fulano comes to town with tal y cual cosa to offer, and now electricity is coming to El Pinar.

The ladies have their seeds for their huertos caseros thanks to CEDEMUR in Ocoa, and now we are just waiting for some rain to fall. We formed a youth group in El Pinar with a chicken vaccination project I sponsered and planned. 522 chickens, guineas, and turkeys later we have RD$284.5 in our treasury which we will blow next Sunday on a picnic in the mountains. Also, I am teaching English every week to the 3rd and 4th grades of high school, and will perhaps teach English at CEDEMUR. Also with CEDEMUR I am producing a brochure and am making a website (crude and basic, but fitting to the organization). So I am feeling somewhat productive even if I do spend the majority of my time wondering what to do with myself.

Days spent playing casino and retosando with Angel. We make wagers about who will win, and he still owes me a work of art, a poem, a back massage, and a new fruit. Meanwhile I had to climb a hillside and gather him a basket of wild caimitos... and things like that. Angel is the most caring, playful, and considerate boyfriend I have ever known. I treasure our long walks, hours spend gnawing on sugarcane and chatting through fiberous mouthfulls, bolas in trucks or motorcycle rides to various local galleras, and watching him concentrate among the bettors <<¡Azúl!¡Azúl!¡Azúl!>>. Angel glimpsed shirtless between leaves balanced high up in the mamón tree tumbándome mamones. The way Angel, when I say something rediculous of questionable basis in reality, will perhaps cock his head, make a whirring sound in my ear, and kiss me anyway. Ai, Angel, Angel, Angel.