Stuck in Tegucigalpa, with the Olancho Blues Again

The roads are open to Olancho - about the only place you can get to today according to Karla. Roads South, North and West are closed. But Jose decided last night that we are not going to leave until tomoorrow. I hate to sound negative, but I think we should get out while we can. He seems to have no reason for wanting to postpone until tomorrow. Except he was mad that Honduras lost to the US for the third time since I've been here in futbol. :-') I am frustrated but trying to be patient and understanding.

People are heading in busses to the borders of Nicauragua, where Mel is rumored to make his attempt to cross the border today, so the police are stopping all buses and have closed the roads in an attempt to keep the Mel supporters away from the border. The plan is to arrest him with as little conflict as possible. I think once he crosses the border they will bring him here, to Tegucigalpa, and all hell will break loose in the streets. I'm envisioning that we won't be able to leave home. I wish Jose would change his mind!

It is great to have my computer back. It actually turns on now in 1 of every 6 attempts. But I discovered yesterday that I lost ALL of my photos. Karina's friend had said I lost some, but he saved most. Now I only have the photos that I chose for this blog. I lost all of the photos of my baptism last year, of my brother's wedding, and of Maddie - the cat I had for 18 years who died. Lesson learned. When I have some money I need to buy an outside memory card. Some days here I took 40 photos and put them all on my computer by date. Bummer.

Last night I had a long talk with Karla after dinner. Her father has a house here sitting empty which she knows he would rent to me if I found a job here. He would love to have it occupied, but doesn't want to deal with finding a trustworthy renter. Now I just need a job.

Had a dream last night that I was somewhere in the US in the mountains, I think Colorado. I was traveling with a large group of teenagers, and I was a teen myself. There was some sort of beauty contest and you didn't have to do anything to win it. They just showed off the gown that you would get as the winner on a really skinny model. I remember thinking the dress was gorgeous, but I'd never fit into it and didn't really care about the beauty contest anyway. But the next morning they announced that I had won! I was excited and figured they must have left lots of room to let out the dress to let it out for someone who wasn't stick thin. I was to wear the dress in an interview that evening.

Then I walked in on my mother and brother eatting dinner and asked why they hadn't called me to join them. My mom said she didn't think it was a good idea for me to eat if I was going to fit into the dress. So to spite her I started picking the food on the table out of the bowls with my fingers. Then later I went and put on the dress and it was perfect. The dream ended with me looking at myself in the mirror. I was very happy with the way I looked. Then I turned around and looked at myself from behind. My hair was dark black and goregous - like all of my Honduran friends. That's when I woke up. Am I turning into a Honduran?

Aboiut a month ago John Casey suggested with the political unrest that I die my hair black and wear dark contacts so that I look Honduran. But he didn't say anything about a beauty queen/prom dress. Never knew that deep inside I wanted to be a beauty queen.