two slices of meatloaf

It is a bad fighter who telegraphs his punches.


It is a worse writer who telegraphs his punch lines.


But Tuesday was truly a Meatloaf type of day. You know: "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad."


Theresa of ¿What do I do all day? set a benchmark for expatriates in Mexico. In "Tempting Fate by attempting too much in one day...," she set out to accomplish three major projects in one day.


We, dear friends who we are, counseled caution. Try too many, and you will fail at all.


But, she showed us all up. In one day, she did all three.


I knew, on Tuesday, I could not best her, not even tie her. After all, I only had two tasks. But I set out with the same optimism.


I arrived at the Immigration office in Manzanillo right at 9. When I walked inside, I took #3; they were serving #1.


I have learned enough when taking on one of these tasks to bring reading material and refreshments. Just as I was ready to crack my book -- and the top of my water bottle -- two windows opened. It was 9:05, and a live person was talking with me.


I handed over my temporary FM3, and the woman behind the window disappeared. I could see her occasionally helping the two other clerks with copies.


I stood there patiently expecting to hear that I would need to bring a note from my First Grade teacher before my FM3 could be registered.


Instead, around 9:17, she handed me an official-looking document, and asked me to sign it. I did. She then gave me my FM3 booklet and reminded me to return in just under a year to renew my visa.


In less than 20 minutes, I was done. I was stunned.


If I had it to do over, I think I would still go through the initial process in the States. There was something comforting when I crossed the border knowing that I was entering on something other than a tourist card.


It is true that I had to do almost everything twice -- once in Portland, and then in Manzanillo, with the exception that Manzanillo did not ask for a police clearance letter nor did Manzanillo need to re-verify my income.


The income verification issues will arise next year when I will undoubtedly not have whatever records I will need to show that I am not on the verge of becoming a ward of the state. But, I will most likely be living in a different part of Mexico then.


Pushing my luck, I decided to slip in an additional task. I have not been getting my magazines at the Melaque address -- even though I changed my subscriptions address over a month ago.


Because they are about an $800 investment, I decided to get a mailbox at Mailboxes, Etc. I had visited the office twice. So, I knew what I needed: money and a piece of identification. Being satisfied with what I gave him, the fellow at the store set me up with a mailbox. My magazines should now be heading this way -- very soon.


Two tasks successfully completed -- even though one was an improvisation.


The next step was to talk with the veterinarian about Jiggs's tumor, and to take Jiggs home.


I picked up the sainted New Beginnings in Manzanillo. She had already seen Jiggs, and was impressed with his haircut (it made him look younger, she said) and his ability to get around.


My first impression was not as sanguine. To me, he looked what he is: a tired, old dog -- a dog that I thoroughly love. But I will leave the conclusions to you.




His Mexico buzz cut is very short, and shows all of his physical flaws. But it is certainly much cooler than his full Oregon coat.


The veterinarian carefully went through each of the steps he took to bring Jiggs's fever down. He is now taking Jiggs off cortisone and his thyroid medicine.


He asked if he could keep Jiggs for two more nights -- in an attempt to reduce the fat around the hard tumor on Jiggs's abdomen. He will then take three x-rays on Thursday morning. I will consult with the veterinarian on Thursday afternoon.


No matter what course of treatment we decide on, I will bring Jiggs home on Thursday. He is obviously enjoying his stay with the veterinarian and his family. He even fell asleep with a cockatiel between his paws -- the dog who has historically disliked birds in his yard.


When I left, he made no effort to come with me. That did not hurt my feelings because it proved he feels comfortable staying at the clinic.

So, there it is. Two out of three. And it ain't bad.


Because the third task will soon be complete.


And I ain't no Meatloaf.