Like a dead day

THIS MORNING dawned cool and gray.

At 8 a.m. the thermometer on the upstairs terraza measured 58 degrees. It felt cooler. Fall is in the air.

More notable is that the Day of the Dead is near. As my child bride noted while walking the neighborhood plaza yesterday, practicing her English: It feels like a dead day.

Oh, well. She tries.

Noticing that it looked like a dead day this morning, I toted the Canon out on the terraza to make this sweep. There toward the end, you can see a lamp lit in the left window.

That’s where I sit to write this stuff.

On both dead days and lively ones.

8 thoughts on “Like a dead day

  1. I have said it before; I will say it again: your hacienda is a great place to live. Now that things are a bit different in my life, I may head up your way when the heat returns. (Actually, it has not yet left.)


    1. Señor Cotton: It is a great place to live, and that’s why I show it here so often, likely more often than I should. As for getting out of the sweltering heat of your area, a visit to the mountaintop would be a good idea. It amuses me that you pretend that it’s not always oppressively hot there. You may fool people who live above the Rio Bravo, but I know better.


  2. Your lovely bride’s comment reminds me of the owner of one of my favorite Mexican restaurants. As I dined there one Memorial Day I asked how business was going. She replied “No peoples because of the happy day.”

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  3. And here I thought you had somewhat assimilated into Mexican society. As a citizen you should know better than to show your longings for the U.S.

    As one of only two (I believe) countries in the world, I can’t believe you are still using the ridiculous measure of Mr. Fahrenheit. Every one knows that is 14 degrees this morning. Do you still think you’re living in that place north of the border? Come on, get with it. Change is good, as your buddy, Mr. President, said.


    1. Tancho: My longings for the United States diminish daily. Truth is that now I have virtually none, which I find sad. I have not changed. America has. And the probability of my ever returning is almost zero, which is more than we can say for you, old bean, who return on a regular basis. Can’t kick the habit, can you?

      As for my using Fahrenheit here, I just cannot make the switch. You know how on hearing, say, 90 degrees you have an instantaneous feel for what that means? If someone says the same to me in Celsius, 32 degrees, I have no feeling for it. It’s just a number. I don’t think that will ever change. Kilometers, meters don’t give me any trouble. I can use them. Except when it comes to a person’s height. That also leaves me blank-faced.

      Anyway, most everyone who reads my stuff is a Gringo and accustomed to Fahrenheit. I play to the crowd.

      I will admit this: meters, centimeters, etc., are far better, more exact, than feet and yards. I prefer metric by a mile, or rather, by a kilometer.


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