Plague year pleasures

ENOUGH OF GLOOM and doom. Let’s focus on pleasures, which we have quite a few here at the Hacienda on a daily basis.

They start at dawn. The window is open for the cool night air, and when the sun rises, the birds start to sing. Neighborhood chickens too, but the birds are nearer, sweeter.

And waking at age 75 with a sleek, smooth child bride at your side on the king bed is quite the pleasure, believe me. Were I still with wives No. 1 or No. 2, I’d been waking with crones. Let’s not underestimate the pleasure of this.

Then there is food. Neither of us is a foodie, but that doesn’t mean one doesn’t find pleasure in eating. This morning was special in that we had waffles, which we rarely do because we like to remain svelte and healthy.

waff
Aunt Jemima mix makes the best waffles.

Atop the waffles we pour real Canadian maple syrup from Costco.

To burn off the waffle calories, we did the usual morning exercise walk around the neighborhood plaza. We normally don’t encounter many people, but during these trying times we find even fewer folks. The plaza is ours, a pleasure.

A hot shower is great too. That happens later so we smell nice, a pleasure to others.

For lunch today, it’s minestrone, which I tossed together from a very simple recipe I’ve used for decades. It’s a healthy, low-cal version, which was the reason we ate syrup-drenched waffles earlier. We deserved it.

minn
Old Felipe makes the best minestrone.

In the afternoon, I make coffee at home, pour it into a thermos, and off we go to the big plaza downtown where we sit at a sidewalk table. I, of course, read my Kindle, and my child bride gossips with her sister. Bringing our own coffee negates the need to have the coffee house employees involved in the process during this plague year.

The less touchy-touchy you do improves your survival chances, it’s said.

That’s the primary period each day in which we escape the confines of the Hacienda to avoid going stir-crazy. Then it’s home for salads and Netflix before beddy-bye and pleasurably slipping into a world of dreams till it starts over the next day.

Plenty of pleasures available during the Plague Year.

Wide, open spaces

zone

IF YOU STEP from our house out to the street, hang a right, walk about five blocks and look sharply over your left shoulder, this is what you’ll see.

Mountains, some humble homes, trees, wide open spaces and a railroad track that heads to the Pacific coast and the commercial shipping hub at Lázaro Cárdenas.

I took the shot during a 30-minute exercise walk I made yesterday morning with my child bride and our closest nephew, the one I once called the Little Vaquero, the Little Cowboy, but he’s bigger now and no cowboy. He’s a soccer goalie and nearly 15.

He had spent the night with us, which he does every now and then, but not nearly so often as he did when he was much younger.

I’m not sure why this scene caught my eye. Maybe it’s the new year, and this wide-open space represents possibilities to me. To me, a new year is like a clean slate.

And then we walked  home and ate waffles.

Waffles & snowflakes

waffles

WE’RE A HEALTH-conscious couple, and we watch what we eat. It’s partly why we are so slim and beautiful.

Although we love waffles, we rarely eat them because they are not healthy. However, special occasions call for celebration, and we decided Wednesday morning to breakfast on waffles, a Trump fiesta with Canadian maple syrup.

However, just as my child bride was about to turn on the blender and waffle iron, the electricity went out, and it stayed out for an hour due to work in the street.

So we ate the usual cereal, but with a grin. At least I was grinning. My lovely companion still is uncertain about Trump, being Mexican and listening to Mexican news sources, which are just as left-wing as CNN and MSNBC.

There is no Mexican version of Fox or Breitbart.

However, she’s as conservative as I am, and she knows that I always know best, so she’s coming around, slowly.

Mexico has focused entirely on Trump’s border wall and his sometimes ill-phrased statements about Mexicans.

They know nothing about other U.S. issues like tax cuts, veterans’ matters,  federal debt, entitlements, BLM, Islamic terrorism, Mohammedan “refugees,” safe spaces,  PC lunacy, Common Core, joblessness and so on.

Alas, to Mexicans, it’s all about them and their God-given right to sneak across the border whenever they feel like it.

Our waffle extravaganza was delayed one day, but not canceled. We waffled our hearts out yesterday instead.

Like election night, it was very tasty.

* * * *

01_snowflake_1Left-wing snowflakes are in a state of hysteria and meltdown. Here are some hilarious examples:

  1. A guy named Jerry Kang, who is UCLA’s vice chancellor for “equity, diversity and inclusion,” held an event last night to process the shocking election results.
  2. At Cornell University, a “cry-in” was held on the Quad. “I’m quite terrified, honestly,” one snowflake opined.
  3. Thousands of poor losers blocked the entrance to Trump Tower in Chicago. They said they are against fascism, racism and war. Where this stuff is breaking out in the wake of the election is not clear.
  4. Snowflake high school students and teachers, about 1,500 of them,  staged a walkout Wednesday in California to protest Trump’s fair-and-square election victory. They’re just not gonna take it, you hear?
  5. In New York, thousands of leftists took to the streets howling obscenities about Trump’s victory, “rape culture,” racism and all that silly razzmatazz.

I remember the day following the shocking (to conservatives) re-election in 2012 of Weepy Barry.

We were gobsmacked!

But did we stage cry-ins? Did we block entrances to buildings? Did Republican ghetto-dwellers riot in the streets, as happened in Oakland after the Trump victory?

Of course not. We just hoped for a better day.

And here it is!

Object of envy

New Image
How it looked today, June 30 of 2016.

HERE I SIT on the veranda, just in from the morning walk around the neighborhood plaza, something I do most days to maintain my boyish physique and high humor.

I am an ideal object of envy. No job. No money worries. My health is good. My wife is young and beautiful. The weather is wonderful. Waffles and maple syrup (100%) await.

Birds sing. Burros bray. Horses neigh. Dogs bark. Hogs oink. All within earshot, night and day. And last night till 2 a.m., musicians howled on the plaza, so we slept with earplugs, something that doesn’t warrant envy, alas.

Hereabouts 11 a.m., the sky is blue and white. The temperature is 69. My utility bills are low, and my grass is high, green and damp. My wives are all alive and my daughter too.

I have no dogs, no cats, no outstanding bills, and both of our cars run smoothly though they could use a wash. It’s the rainy season, a constant battle for self-respecting vehicles.

The waffles are ready now, I’m advised. The maple syrup too, the daily second breakfast around the hour of 11.

It’s an enviable position in which to find oneself.