Behold the smurf

Where but here on The Moon does one encounter such a wide array of topics? The answer is nowhere. So let us pivot from the previous topic, the End of Civilization, to the fun one of smurfs.

But hold your horses!

An online inquiry reveals many definitions of smurf. I was shocked, and maybe you will be too. First, there is the “Belgian comic franchise centered on a fictional colony of small, blue, humanoid creatures who live in mushroom-shaped houses in the forest.”

But in online gaming, a smurf is an experienced player who uses a new account to deceive other players into thinking he’s a noob (newbie). A smurf can also be a money launderer who seeks to evade scrutiny from government agencies by breaking up large transactions.

And there is the latest of my child bride’s crochet art, the smurf you see in the photo. Keep in mind that her work is done from scratch. There are no molds, etc. It all begins and ends with crochet needles. And numerous hours of labor. Her handiwork is for sale. International shipping available. Moon readers eligible for a sweet discount.

Be the first on your block to own a piece of The Moon.

The morning rooster

Walking through the living room just after dawn, I noticed this rooster. The light was coming through the window some distance away, but light travels. It was an illustration of what I had been thinking about earlier. As I head off into dreamland every evening, I hear dogs in the distance. When I wake before dawn, I hear roosters.

It’s usually not a tranquil world here, but you grow accustomed to it.


The garden grows

We’re firmly into March now and, the Goddess willing, there will be no more freezes, so I decided to call Abel the Deadpan Yardman to come over from where he lives on the other side of the sex motel, and trim the Willy-Nilly Zone. That’s the area just off the downstairs terraza where things grow wildly, i.e. willy-nilly.

The Willy-Nilly Zone has two sides because the sidewalk marches through its middle.

Side One, before. The monster aloe vera long lived here.
Side One, after. At the top left are bridal bouquets that haven’t bloomed in a few years.
Side Two, before. Bridal bouquets, red-hot pokers and at the rear, Birds of Paradise.
Side Two, after. Too early for flowers, but now they have space.

Less clutter lets one breathe easier. The days are beautiful here now, but it won’t last long because Springtime is the worst season hereabouts. The landscape gets drier and browner, and dust becomes a problem, which means my child bride wants the windows shut at all times, and they usually are. The only exceptions being at night, especially the bedroom windows, when Springtime stuffiness is challenging.


I say I hope the cold is gone now, but that’s not a given. Look at this photo from March 2016 that I snapped from the upstairs terraza. The milder weather has inspired me to change socks. My winter sock is a wool blend from Costco. My new springtime — and perhaps summer too — sock, also from Costco, are Pumas.

I am fond of pumas, panthers, whatever you want to call them, due to an entheogenic vision I had 25 years ago, which was the inspiration for the Hacienda’s front door, a design of my own making.

Sunlight and tacos

New Image
7:30 a.m. Sunlight hits the arch that separates the living room and dining room.

BACK IN 1999, just before I packed two bags and moved over the southern border for good, an artist and gallery owner acquaintance who sold my stuff in Houston told me he had lived a spell in Puebla and that what most stuck in his mind was the light.

He had the Gauguin eye.

I’m not sure the light is any different here, but at moments it’s more noticeable than at other times. We’re approaching the rainy season right about now, and that should diminish the blinding sun of springtime, which is mostly a good thing.

I need to haul the lawnmower to the shop for servicing.

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9:30 a.m. Stone, big succulent, bridal bouquets, aloe vera and dead grass beyond.

Tuesday was a breakthrough day for us here in the Plague Year. We barreled down the mountainside to the nearby capital city, and we ventured farther afield than just Costco, which has been our sole destination, along with the Chedraui supermarket, since early March, maybe even late February.

Those two stores are on the relative outskirts of town.

We went to a bank. We went to a Soriana supermarket in a shopping center to buy lemon-pepper spice, which is a nightly salad essential, and we ran out last week. Not available at Costco or Chedraui for some reason. While my child bride was in the bank, I entered a monster mall to buy vitamins at GNC. For the first time, I had my temperature checked with one of those pistol things, and I was declared free of Kung Flu.

The day’s high point was going back to our favorite drowned-taco eatery, Las Ahoganitas where we downed four each, accompanied by the best horchata you’re gonna find anywhere in this life or the next.

On returning to our hardscrabble neighborhood on the mountaintop, we noticed it had rained. Perhaps there is some urgency in getting that lawnmower serviced and running. The lawn rejuvenates rapidly with just a few good gulps of rainwater.