I loved that show. No, I’d say it was almost religion. (I’m being satirical here.) I didn’t miss an episode. And, I felt like a regular when I placed myself on the couch to watch it every week. I was so sad to see it go, but I forged on.

When I arrived here nine years ago, Costa Rica was my Cheers. I worked for years to develop a neighborhood, “regulars,” a system, and a routine where I felt at home. Many began to know my name.

My show was cancelled. Like Frasier, Ted, and Carla, I found myself written out of the script I had written. In other words, in a matter of very short time, I became a single mother in a foreign country, and of course as many of you know, my son has Down Syndrome.

How did all this happen so fast? This is not as important of the new
life ahead of me.

So, I’ve developed a “spin-off.” There are a few new characters in my play, and a few old familiar faces. My name has changed, but really, I’m still the same. With a few changes to the script, the stories will continue. I’m staying in Costa Rica, and “belly-ing” up to the bar for the new and exciting episodes.

By the way, instead of Susan Carmichael, you can now call me Susan Lutz.

Thanks for tuning in.

This is not a call for millions to log on and watch my films – little ditties about life and Costa Rica – rather, I am just fascinated at what we watch and what we’ll spend time filming. AND – that someone else will spend time – the finite time he/she has on this planet – watching all of this.

91,361 people viewed: How to fold your bra.

Magic? Think Again got 85667 hits. It’s about water and whiskey trading places in a glass.

T-shirt folding got 171,448 hits.

Joshy, a boy with Down Syndrome got 9615 hits.

Mookie and Sam (EP2) got 1,204,040 hits.

I can apply logic to the films and guess to some extent why people choose to watch a women with big breasts take off her shirt and then fold her bra, but why T-Shirt folding? Why the millions of other films?

Though I don’t spend a lot of time on YouTube. I love it. I love that it exists and that each and every film is there. Someone spent the time creating. And, that’s enough for me.

We the people, not guys in a board room, are putting life and humor and sentiment and information in front of the world to see – accessible to make, accessible to see.

This morning I chased around small rodents in hopes of getting a little footage for our next film here at MotherJungle.

Between the poop, screaming baby, and unruly six-year old, there may just be something there that someone will want to see.

Click here to view the embedded video.

To divert his attention from me, we turn on the rock and roll. Addison sits in front of the CD player and wiggles his hands in the air, claps, and scoots. Today, he figured how to turn up the volume.

So, Elvis and the Beach Boys live on – right on into the jungle.

One of the great things about living in Costa Rica is that I can have a person come to my home for massages and haircuts – even the vet comes to our house. (And, for my crazy dogs, staying out of the car is one big bonus.) I set up an appointment with the masseuse; she’d be coming the next day, but I still faced the day ahead. What to do? Run some errands!

After picking up my new pair of glasses, Addison and I stopped for lunch. The waiter asked me if I wanted a high chair. It was the first time I could say yes. This was a new milestone.

“Si,” I said. I hauled Addison out of the stroller and held him while we waited for the high chair. When the waiter appeared with the chair, my heart sank. The high chair was not the kind that would support my son. It was wooden – the kind sold on the roadside – and he could easily slip through the sides. My heart sank. But Addison was much too happy to go back in the stroller. I decided to give the high chair a try.

I had to sit Addison so close to the table, he could reach everything on it. I gave him the menu. He paged through it over and over again, talking and pointing as he looked. I held him with one hand while I ate with the other. Near the restaurant was a playground jammed packed with kids jumping off dinosaurs and running under the plastic tree. Many of the kids were Addison’s age.

I’ve always been different; I never really made it on the “inside.” Kids made fun of my hair in school; my mom put hot dogs in a thermos for my lunch; I wore clothes from the Goodwill; and I played the trumpet.

Addison grabbed a napkin. I asked him to give it to me. He spit it out and put it in my hand. It’s taken me a long time to get comfortable out here on the edge. It’s nice to have such good company.