WHILE MY surviving Gringa relatives — all two of them — above the Rio Bravo have vanished, lamentably, into the shadows of the past, I have no lack of family that I’ve married into.
I took this shot downtown earlier this week. One of the newer relatives is that smaller example in the middle. Her name is Paula Romina, and she’s very nice, not quite 2 years old.
Paula Romina thinks my child bride hung the moon.
And so do I. That’s not my child bride holding Paula Romina, however. That’s her mama, Margarita.
This young woman is named Alma, which is Spanish for soul. She is the widow of our nephew who died two years ago at 32 from cancer. We took the nephew to the state capital for chemo treatments almost weekly for a year, but it did not work out.
They are good people. Buena gente.* A picnic is scheduled this afternoon, and the main dish will be roasted chicken.
NOW THAT the Jesus Patio has been replaced with simplythe Yard Patio, we’re moving onto other renovations, the largest leap of all, replacing the relatively small, clay-tile roof that has shaded part of the upstairs terraza for 16 years with, well, you’ll see later.
It’s gonna be YUGE!
The guys who renovated the yard patio returned yesterday morning and began dismantling the clay-tile roof. It took them just three hours. It would have taken me three weeks, even with help. Here’s how it looked:
They left after three hours due to having work elsewhere, but they will return this morning to continue.
That space under the clay tiles holds many memories. A hammock hung there for about a decade, and I used to swing in the lovely breezes while reading books. But for some reason I stopped using the hammock and finally it was removed. Habits change.
Most of the upstairs terraza was open to the elements, which are extreme out there. Daily rains for five months, mostly during summer, with insufficient drainage. Glaring sun in winter and spring.
Parts of the ceramic floor were replaced twice because it simply popped up. Then, just a few months ago, water began leaking into our bedroom below. It became clear that a drastic solution was necessary.
We’ll be covering the entire area with steel and tempered glass which, hopefully, will result in the space being useful. It never was very useful before. Stay tuned! It’s gonna be exciting.
LAST NOVEMBER, I wrote about a Sunday drive. If you wish, you can revisit ithere. During most of last month, due to the gasoline crisis that left most gas stations empty, we didn’t drive anywhere for fun, just necessity.
But we’re back to normal with the gas stations, so we took a ride around our huge lake yesterday. The principal objective was to eat lunch in a restaurant named Campestre Alemán. We just call it the German restaurant.
I shot photos and videos so you could feel like you were with us.
I filmed this video from our table which overlooked the restaurant’s man-made lake, complete with geese.
Here are our plates of goulash. Campestre Alemán serves a mean goulash. I intended to order white German sausage, but it wasn’t available.
This is a photo of another of the restaurant customers. I took this shot because I liked the look of the woman. She did not notice me.
Having downed the goulash, we hopped back in the Honda and continued the circular route around the lake. Minutes later, we passed the restaurant where my child bride and I had our first date 18 years ago.
She was so nervous she wanted to bring a niece along for the ride. Luckily, the niece begged off, so we were on our own, as we have remained for almost 17 years.
Continuing along, we passed this odd house, so I braked to take a photo. Some folks exhibit lots of imagination with little money.
I later spotted this clothesline and the lake beyond.
It was at the end of our jaunt that I shot the video at the very top. We were almost home. The Hacienda is only about mile farther.
WEEPY BARRY Obama, as I like to call him, once said, parroting his leftist party line, that “Climate Change” was an existential threat.
This is nonsense. Climate has always changed, and yet here we are.
The climate on my Mexican mountaintop sure changes. In summer, it rains daily. In winter, it doesn’t rain at all with some very rare exceptions. In spring it’s dry and dusty. In fall, it’s quite lovely.
Here’s an interesting, brief video with some sage, clear-thinking, actual scientists setting us straight on the climate-change hysteria.