Buttcrack baby

(Viewer discretion advised. Video includes appalling moments.)


As has been mentioned here previously, my child bride has turned to other activities over the past year due to the Kung Flu hysteria, temporarily halting her sidewalk pastry sales. She has turned to crochet.

Up to now, she has created elephants, Rotweillers, unicorns, lions, camels and so on, but now she’s tackled the human form. Some of you might want to avert your eyes from the video. You’ve been warned.

The dress is separate and removable as are the sandals and panties.

The child in question is named Matilda. She is a white girl, which means she was born with privilege, giving her a pass through an easy, blessed life. Next on the crochet list, however, will be a chocolate child who will, of course, be oppressed.

I am not making this up. Stay tuned.

Yes, 19 on the 19th

This is how we looked 19 years ago today.

Today, April 19th, marks our 19th anniversary. It was my third wedding that occurred 19 years ago this evening, the third and the best.

The first was a train wreck that lasted a tad over five years. The second was not a train wreck, but ultimately, it just did not pan out. There was a five-year hiatus between the first and the second, and then another five-year hiatus between the second and my move to Mexico.

I am fond of five-year breathers.

Excuse the judge’s hand in the photo above. We did not hire a professional photographer, which was an error. We left it in the hands of a friend, who screwed up, so we lack good photos of the evening, which took place in the interior patio of my sister-in-law’s coffee shop in our mountaintop town.

A year ago.

But we do have a few amateurish photos of the event. Not one photo was taken during either of my previous marriage ceremonies. Memories lost. The first wedding happened in the living room of my parents’ upstairs duplex in New Orleans. The second occurred in a Unitarian Church in Houston with no one present but the two of us and the minister.

For fun, here’s a photo we took about a year ago just as the Kung Flu hysteria was cranking up.

We had just passed our 18th anniversary. I don’t wear masks anymore, but she does.

I hope to make it to the 20th anniversary. I’m not as young and spry as I once was. Maybe we’ll do something special. We celebrated our 10th anniversary in Havana, but we’ll not return to that miserable place.

Now let’s pop open the champagne. It’s a great, bubbly, 19-year-old variety.

Time to pucker up!

My patch of parasitic mistletoe.

A couple of months ago when we were still in winter and the bush — hibiscus, I think — in which this thing resides was still lacking its leaves, I noticed a patch of something green sitting there alone. Looks like mistletoe, I muttered as I continued on with life.

This morning, I took a photo using a plant-identification app and, sure enough, it’s mistletoe. I mentioned this to my child bride and, after the appropriate smootch below the mistletoe, she said she’d never heard of it. It must not be “a thing” in Mexico.

Hibiscus, I think.

The plant on which the mistletoe lives — mistletoe is a parasite — is, I believe, a form of hibiscus. The plant-ID app was unsure. When we moved into the Hacienda 18 years ago, it was living cheek-to-jowl against a loquat tree where some nincompoop had planted it. I uprooted it and planted it over thataway a bit, giving it space.

The hibiscus — and let’s assume that’s what it is — flowers now and then, kinda pretty, and it does not toss trash all over the place, so I’ve left it in peace. Longtime readers here know that I am a plant predator, quite the killer when it suits me, and it suits me when a plant becomes a nuisance, mostly by tossing trash.

When we moved here, there was a fig bush where one of the carports now sits, so it was removed, which is a shame because I like figs.

The skeletal loquat.

Not far off is the loquat tree which grew like mad, tossing loquats all over the place where they rotted on the ground. Tossed big, ugly leaves too, much like those of a magnolia, which is a yucky tree, I think, in spite of my being a son of the Old South.

Rhett Butler and all that.

Alas, my child bride is excessively fond of loquats and the tree on which they grew maniacally. But she didn’t have to deal with the constant mess and work, so her vote was of less value than mine.

I am a kind husband, however, so I did not remove it. I only cut it back, way, way back, and I maintain it as you see in the photo, a half-alive zombie.

When I die, she can let it go whole hog again and, believe me, it will.

It needs a trellis.

Let us further milk the gardening topic today. While the Hacienda was under construction in 2003, I planted five bougainvillea bushes along the property wall you see in these photos. Two promptly died. Of the remainers, one was very different. It does not go berserk, and at times during the year it’s all flowers. It’s my best bougainvillea buddy.

But the best gardening news of the day is that we have mistletoe, which gives my child bride another reason to kiss me, even though she’d never heard of mistletoe. You get your kisses where you can. That’s always been my philosophy.

Votes, death, spiders, mail & flu

I sent my vote for the Blond Bomber toward Houston on October 1, registered mail, figuring it would have plenty of time. This was assuming registered mail here moves at least a bit faster than unregistered mail, a dicey assumption.

It arrived at the Mexico City airport 27 days later. I could have driven there in five hours, give or take. Registered and express mail from here can be tracked on the Mexican postal system’s website, and then it can be tracked on the USPS website using the same number.

It has been visible on the USPS website for a couple of days, so I’m assuming it made it over the Rio Bravo, but there is no further info. I have found the Mexican tracking system better than the USPS. Once I sent a Social Security form, registered mail, and it crossed the border and vanished. Yes, the Gringos lost it.


The Honda was in the shop this week due to a suspension problem. I got it back yesterday and immediately noticed one tire was very low on air, so I drove a couple of blocks today to my tire-repair man who found the leak and fixed it on the spot for $2.50 U.S.


The Night/Day of the Dead arrives Sunday. Both state and city governments have tried to discourage it due to the Kung Flu, so I suspect we’ll see fewer tourists jamming our highways and streets. How much fewer is questionable.


We’re considering a trip to the beach, Zihuatanejo, soon where we have not been in about three years. Probably be a good time due to more folks staying home. Our favorite hotel is the Casa Sun & Moon. We always get a big suite facing the ocean.

It’s time to stop talking about going and actually go.


And she came screaming!

Well, not screaming, but my child bride ran rapid and distressed. There was a big, black spider in the bathtub. I won’t say he was as big as my fist, but he was huge, the second big spider here in the last three days. I trapped him, escorted him to the yard where I smashed him flat. She said it was a brown recluse, but it wasn’t. It did look scary though.


We get a flu shot every October at the Star Medica hospital in the nearby state capital. Alas, the vaccine has yet to arrive there. Next week, we’re always told on the phone. Next week! It costs 800 pesos each at Star Medica, but it’s available free here on the mountaintop at a government clinic. I’ve only gone to a government clinic for a vaccine once, and I received the wrong vaccine. I now look askance at government clinics.

Socialized, government medical care!

But that may be where we get it this year.


The high point of today is that my child bride made a huge pot of green pozole, and no one does it better than her. We’ll enjoy that for lunch, then head down to the government clinic to see if the flu shot is available and, even more important, if there’s a line to stand in. If so, we’ll just keep on trucking. Life’s too short to stand in lines.

Might not get the correct vaccine anyway.


Vaccine update! We went to the government hospital and got the vaccine quicker than we’ve ever done it at Star Medica, and it was free, closer to being actually free than the stuff the leftists promise you above the Rio Bravo. (That free means your neighbors are paying for it.) There was no wait. We were told there’s a shortage of shots, and only certain people get it. Being over 60 did it for us.

By the way, what’s up with the anti-vaccine hysteria? Appears to be something embraced by conservatives more than anyone. I don’t get it. I like vaccines.