Embracing the lifestyle

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Felipe relishes his pineapple.

NORMALLY, EVERY weekday morning, I sit on the downstairs veranda with fruit — usually pineapple chunks — following my exercise walk around the neighborhood plaza.

But this morning, I changed my tune. I went upstairs, took a seat atop one of the new chairs that we purchased from Amazon. They are more comfy than the hard rockers on the downstairs veranda, and I ate my fruit. That’s me doing it.

We’ve been enjoying June since the annual monsoon began a couple of weeks ago. The temps have dropped considerably. This morning around 5 a.m., I even rousted myself out of bed to close the windows. It was chilly in there. I went back to sleep.

My child bride might have been in this photo too, but she skipped on the exercise walk because she was busy in the pastry kitchen, baking for her weekly sale tomorrow on the principal plaza downtown. I usually walk solo on Fridays for that reason.

Since this post is solely about the photo, that’s all I have to say right now.

Happiness returns

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The sun is shining. The frog is happy.

IT’S BEEN MIGHTY miserable hereabouts the last few days. No sun, plenty cold, no gasoline. But this day dawned better.

The sun is out and bright. Air is cool, not cold. Gasoline remains hard to find, but it’s an imperfect world in which we reside.

Noonish, I was sitting on the yard patio. That’s its new name, nothing high-falootin’ or esoteric. The intention was to read my Kindle and relax beneath the umbrella, but I took the above photo instead.

Then I came indoors to check on the lunch I was fixing. My child bride was out in her pastry kitchen all morning working on tomorrow’s goodies to hawk on the downtown plaza.

Barbecue chicken in the crock pot, tomato soup (canned Campbell’s. I’m not particular), and a pile of little pastas to round it off.

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Simple meal for simple people.

I spent much of the morning transitioning to a new web browser, Vivaldi, which is quite nice. I shun the big boys, especially anything related to Google. For the last couple of weeks I used Maxthon (second time), but it proved too buggy. Plus, it’s Chinese, and I prefer to dodge stuff from China and Russia. China is communist, and Russia is, well, Russian.

Google is communist too.

Another notable event in this happy day occurred when I heard the garbage truck’s bell  clanging on the back street. Usually, I just ignore it due to laziness because I normally leave garbage bags at a dumpster on my way downtown in the afternoon. But the gas crisis inspired me to get off my duff and walk down the street to the truck with a 15-peso tip.

Late afternoon will find me on the big plaza downtown with a coffee, perhaps a chocolate-chip cookie and the Kindle. A happy day.

Very Good Friday

YESTERDAY AFTERNOON, about 4-ish, I was walking solo down a narrow Colonial street strung above with banners colored purple and white. Are those Good Friday colors, or Jesus colors? I am not versed in the traditions of the Catholic Lord.

My destination was a coffee shop on the main plaza, which is jammed with an Easter market selling all manner of stuff — clothes, the works of artisans, tacos, burritos and sombreros. It’s similar to what transpires here on the Day of the Dead.

I planned to sit there with an espresso and watch the throng of tourists, admiring some, chuckling at others, rolling my eyeballs at times.

But I was still walking on that narrow street and I passed a pastry shop. About 10 paces farther on, I thought: Get something to go with the espresso, so I backtracked, entered, picked up a tray and a set of pincers, which is how you go shopping in pastry shops here, and looked about. The shelves held the typical fare, which normally is good to mediocre.

donutMy eyes stopped on doughnuts. There were chocolate-covered ones and sugar doughnuts too. My first inclination was the chocolate-covered, but I detoured to the sugared. Nearly every doughnut I have eaten in Mexico has disappointed me.* Dry and tasteless for the most part. If you can’t pour cheese over something, they seem to lose interest.

I put one sugar-coated onto the tray, walked to the counter and paid. Three pesos, which ain’t much.

Later, sitting at a sidewalk table with my espresso, I ate the sugar doughnut. To my shock and glee (because I know where the pastry shop is), it was one of the best of my life. It’s good I did not buy a dozen. I must remain sleek.

The doughnut, the throng of passing tourists, some of whom were quite lovely, the blue sky and and cool air made it a very Good Friday.

But especially that doughnut.

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* Note to Don Cuevas: Yes, I know the shop across from La Bodega has great doughnuts. But I have not been there.