Alone, with flowers

In one direction.

My child bride took the bus to Querétaro this morning to check on her brother who’s been recovering from encephalitis since January. It’s an affliction that doesn’t go away rapidly.

After dropping her at the bus station in the state capital at 10 a.m., I stopped at McDonald’s for scrambled eggs with ham, an English muffin and what they think is hash browns.

I buried it all, except the muffins, in ketchup, and it was quite tasty, reminding me that I was once a Gringo. I love ketchup!

On returning to the Hacienda, I did a little vine trimming, and then I sprawled on the sofa with the Kindle, but reading did not last long till I dozed off.

Later I had a lunch of noodle soup she had made and one of her individual-sized tuna pies, the sort she sells out of her basket on the plaza on Saturdays.

Then I watched half of Being John Malkovich on Netflix upstairs, just half because I’ve seen it before, and half was enough. The Spanish title turned it into a question: Are You John Malkovich? Can’t imagine why they did that.

Then I tossed two bags of garbage into the Honda trunk, and drove downtown, stopping off at a dumpster along the way. I went to the main plaza and had a nice espresso, admired the passing lovelies, and read the Kindle.

It’s a good way to live.

Returning to the Hacienda again, I opened the umbrella on the yard patio, took a seat, and continued reading the Kindle. The sun was falling behind the house. The sky was blue. The air was cool, and I admired the growing garden.

I went upstairs for the camera and took these two shots.

Then I read some more, about a fellow in his mid-20s who sailed around the world alone in the mid-1980s. Incredible.

She’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, and my solo time will end.

She thinks I suffer when she’s gone, but overnight is not enough to cause suffering. I like it. The relatively brief change feels interesting.

Plus, I don’t have to feel guilty about snoring.

And the other direction.
And the other direction.