The first of September

croissant
Dining room table awaits croissants from the oven. I’m the maître d’.

IT’S A MORNING like most mornings, and here’s how it goes.

I get up first and check the news online upstairs. My child bride stays in bed and knits. She doesn’t do this every morning, but mornings over the past couple of months, yes.

Around 8ish, I return downstairs to light the oven where croissants already lie in wait. Then I walk to the bedroom to open the curtains, which were half open all night. I look out the window. Of course, what I see is color, but here it’s just black & white.

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It’s cool, overcast and gray this morning, so black & white seems right. In the other direction, my child bride continues under the covers with her knitting. Or maybe it’s crocheting. I dunno. It all looks the same to me.

knit
Lazybones still in the sack, not noticing I’m taking her picture. Just as well.

I leave the bedroom and head back toward the  kitchen, passing through the living room where I pause to gaze outside. Looking good.

terraza
The living room window.

At last, she puts the handiwork aside, lifts herself out of sack, walks to the kitchen where the timer just sounded that the croissants are nice and hot.

September’s off to a good start. Plus, it’s Sunday, a day of rest.

* * * *

Note: A couple of hours later, the sun was out, and the sky was blue. Still cool, however.

Scenes from over there

youth
Why is that old, pinche pendejo Gringo photographing me?

THE FAMILY coffee shop was closed yesterday (rare) so I was forced to hit the competition. There’s plenty of that around the plaza, competition, but my favorite is way over there, and it was there where I sat with a café expreso for a spell.

It was late afternoon. And quiet.

I never order café expreso at the family joint because the aging machine does not make good café expreso. But since I was sitting at the competition, I ordered expreso.

It’s a small world, they say, and as I sat there solo my sister-in-law walked by — on the way to her dentist  — and a bit later her son, our nephew, the Little Vaquero, walked by in the opposite direction, returning home from the gym. He’s 16.

I also shot the photo below. Like the first, it was while sitting with my café expreso. I didn’t even have to stand up. Call me the Lazy Photographer.

shot

Life on the streets

vendors

I’VE NOT BEEN shooting as many photos as I used to. I’m good at photography, so this is a loss to the art world. The main reason is that my best camera, a Canon, is heavy, and I  weary of lugging it in my man bag.

So I’ve taken to toting the other camera, a Fujifilm Finepix, which is far lighter, but the zoom is significantly less. I have to be closer to things. No matter. I used the Finepix yesterday to get the above shot of street vendors. I’m acquainted with those two. They are very friendly people though they look quite serious in the photo.

paulaframe

I also got this photo of Paula Romina, a great-niece of mine. It appears she was happy to see me. Maybe she was just happy to see the camera. She’s a drama queen.

I’m going to make a matte hard copy of that photo for her parents.

I have no grandchildren, nor nieces and nephews above the border and never will have. My father’s only sister was a lesbian. My only sister is a (grumpy) lesbian. My mother was an only child. My sole offspring, a daughter, is almost 53 and childless.

Our line of the family ends with my daughter. We are so conflictive and nuts, especially the distaff side, perhaps it’s for the best. Dr. Laura pointed out that it’s men who cause problems between nations, but it’s women who cause problems in families. Quite so.

What I lack in living Gringo relatives, I make up in Mexican relatives. While the generation of my child bride has passed beyond child-bearing age, the generation just after is breeding like bunnies, often without the benefit of matrimony.

If you’ve not seen my great collection of black-and-white shots, feel free to see it here.