Monthly Archives: September 2020

Succulent Series, FOTD Sept 21, 2020

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Click on photos to enlarge.

For Cee’s FOTD

Expats in Mexico

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Well, no one stopped me, so here is a lovely essay about American Expats in his native Mexico by Arturo Garcia, who is now a Mexican expat and wonderful artist and poet living in the U.S. I guess we traded places:

If there were Americans in Chapala, in Ajijic there were even more. They met at the Old Posada, at the Plaza, at the restaurants in La Montaña, and at the Lake Chapala Society. They had large houses in La Floresta, in Rancho del Oro and more in the heart of town where they felt part of the native community. Those who chose to live in town were not bothered by the cocks that began to crow in the corrals at five in the morning or by the dogs that barked all night at some opossum or some nagual soul that arrived in the shape of an owl. For them, the superstition of the people was ancestral mysticism and they saw it as part of our culture that they had learned in books and that the townspeople without knowing, lived by innate wisdom and by being direct heirs of the Indians who survived the conquests. People had that in their blood and Americans were attracted to it because everything was authentic.

Americans who were touched by the magic of the town left everything behind to stay. Many set aside their piece of land in the municipal cemetery because that was how great their love for the town was. Sometimes they used the politics of their country or the state of social decline as an excuse, but the real reason they did not return was not known to them. They were simply bewitched by the spirit of Ajijic and there was nothing to separate them, not even death.

They, the Ajijic Americans, stood out by their way of dressing, by the efforts they made to speak Spanish and did not judge the native ways of some inhabitants who refused progress, on the contrary, they went to the store with their huaraches and embroidered morral bags made by Huichol Indians while the women came out with their Oaxacan blouses looking and feeling like Frida Kahlo herself. It was nice to see them with their Mexican hearts blending with the locals, putting aside their cameras to hang Wixarika morrales on their shoulders when they decided to stop recording memories with the 35-millimeter camera roll to start storing them on the roll of memory living the experience permanently.

Photo: Pedro Loco. Inside Lakeside.

HERE is a link to Arturo’s website. Go here to see his art. 

Someone Stop Me Before I Blog Again!!! (New Pants)

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On September 12, I posted a photo of a pair of khaki pants hung on my towel rod in my bathroom to encourage me to stick to my diet. At that time, I couldn’t get them zipped up. A week or so later, I could get them zipped and buttoned but they were pretty uncomfortable. Well, today, good news! They zipped and buttoned easily and were wearable. So, they are being retired and a new pair going up in their place. These are even tighter than the khakis were, so may take longer. It’s a great incentive to see them every time I go into the bathroom, day or night. So, here goes. It is September 20 and I’m counting down. I hope.

The Deposed:

The Newest Denizen of the Towel Bar:

Incredible Leaf Cutouts

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These leaf cutouts are so wonderful that they defy description. Click on link below to see 30 of them:

https://www.boredpanda.com/japanese-artist-cute-leaf-cutouts-lito-leafart/

ON THE DIME or “ON THE NICKEL?”

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If F.D.R. was our 32nd president and Trump our 45th, what is the difference between? Good old unlucky #13.  Is it any coincidence that 13 presidents later, after one of our best presidents was elected, one who is definitely our worst was elected? Our culture needs to smarten up and start putting people first, money somewhere down the line. What good is a good economy if only the richest profit from it???? With our economy, our health and our morale at an all-time low, too many have gone “on the nickel” under Trump’s administration. Whereas FDR led us out of a depression, Trump has determinedly led us into the threat of one.

“On the Nickel” refers to 5th street in downtown Los Angeles, which is a location where many of the homeless hang out.  A mission on 5th street is known as “The Nickel,” taken from both the name of the street and the phrase “on the nickel” which describes someone homeless and perhaps begging for nickels.

In the song “On the Nickel” (Heart Attack and Vine) Tom Waits sings: “And what becomes of all the little boys who never comb their hair? They’re lined up all around the block on the nickel over there.” This is one of my favorite Tom Waits songs. Listen to it here:   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvCKEi0cAFo

 

FROM C.S. LEWIS, A QUOTE TO PONDER ON GOOD AND EVIL IN THESE MODERN DAYS

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If you only read one thing today, read this–a reblog of an exceptional and scary blog by Marilyn Armstrong.

Marilyn Armstrong's avatarSerendipity - Seeking Intelligent Life on Earth

A remarkable quote from C.S. Lewis, the author of many remarkable quotes that never seem to get old or lack current veracity in the real world — even a hundred years after their original publication:

“To nine out of ten of you the choice which could lead to scoundrelism (Meaning: baseness, dishonesty, double-dealing) will come, when it does come, in no very dramatic colors…. Obviously bad men, obviously threatening or bribing, will almost certainly not appear. Over a drink or a cup of coffee, disguised as a triviality and sandwiched between two jokes, from the lips of a man, or woman, whom you have recently been getting to know rather better and whom you hope to know better still–just at the moment when you are most anxious not to appear crude, or naive or a prig–the hint will come. It will be the hint of something, which is not quite…

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A Way Out

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A Way Out

He thinks he is inexorable, but he’s only temporary.
His expiration date reveals that he is just contemporary.
He’ll go down as a buffoon in the annals of our nation,
and his exit from the White House will bring great jubilation.
When greed combines with vanity and thirst for power and fame,
then achieves the oval office, the whole nation is to blame.
Would that he’s vivified our populace from living room to coffice
to get their butts out and to vote this charlatan from office!
May justice thus be vivified and liberty brought home,
and a sense of the rational be restored to the dome.

I’VE VOTED. HAVE YOU, OR WILL YOU????

Word prompts today are exit, inexorable, collide, vivify and temporary.

Hoja Santa: Yes, It’s a Flower! FOTD, Sept 20, 2020

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This flowering  Hoja Santa plant covers a huge expanse of the wall between my house and my neighbor’s. All photos may be enlarged by clicking on them. 

The huge leaves of this plant are used to wrap meat, fish and other food in to cook it. One leaf could wrap an entire fish. The flowers are those long white extensions that eventually thicken, change color, fall to the ground and look exactly like snakes! Mine grew from a small plant Paciano brought me years ago and it is now at least 30 feet wide and 15 feet high.

“Piper auritum is sometimes referred to as pepperleaf, sacred pepper, or root beer plant. Its holy name alludes to a Mexican legend that the Virgin Mary dried the young Messiah’s clean diapers on its branches, which seems unlikely considering the plant’s Mesoamerican origins.

The herb’s unusual flavor is hard to pin down, but it has been compared to licorice, sassafras, mint, tarragon, and eucalyptus. . . .Salsa strengthener: Hoja santa is widely used in traditional Central and South American recipes, both savory and sweet. The Aztecs likely included it in their unsweetened chocolate beverages. It is often sliced and added to pozole or egg dishes, though it is most commonly used as an ingredient in mole Amarillo and mole verde in Oaxaca. In Veracruz, Chiapas, and Tobasco, the broad heart-shaped leaves are used to wrap meat, fish, and occasionally even tamales before cooking. “

The above quotes are taken from THISwebsite. Go there for more information about this interesting plant.

Hoja Santa flowers about to fall to the ground to become snakes.

See the entire wall of Hoja Santa to the left of the pool? This is just about 1/2  of the plant, which towers over the rest of the greenery. Only the palm trees are higher.

for Cee’s FOTD

Getting Atten”tion”

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Write a “tion” poem? Okay, hold onto your hat!

Exhortation

Discussing a good book can improve any conversation,
while other books just serve us as a means of rumination.
Books come in many forms from poetry to exhortation.
Some use them to improve their minds, others as decoration.

Books furnish everyone a chance to get an education
as writers entertain us and provide elucidation.
Ghost stories and horror books give rise to palpitation.
Action and adventure lead to heights of exultation.

Comics lead to laughter and beyond—to jubilation.
Histories tell tales of conquerors and usurpation—
deprivation due to wars, like bombing raids and rations,
slaughter, mayhem, battle strategies and amputations.

Some books furnish thrills while some serve only as sedation.
Some books read as sermons, others bombastic oration.
Preachers read from Bibles to provide their congregation
with words that furnish some with hope, others with trepidation.

Some dread books they feel may raise their “lessers” to their station.
Some fear the joy they rouse in us and label our elation
as the hands of Satan, which they’ll cure with amputation,
labeling their action as an act of “God’s creation.”

Driven to destroy the means of all our excitation,
having few words of their own, a zealot’s main “quotation”
is burning books they fear in a colossal conflagration
that gives another meaning to the word “illumination!”

Whatever you might like to read, a certain exultation
waits for you when reading is your favorite vocation.
A torrid romance may work best while on a beach vacation,
(the heat a good excuse for your excessive perspiration.)

Mysteries serve for planes and trains—all forms of transportation—
either while you’re riding or just waiting in the station.
Books are everywhere. They form a great accumulation.
They bore us, reassure us, or provide great inspiration.

Information in most books serves as a vaccination
against hate and bigotry and all discrimination.
For those trapped by fate, they make a good means of migration,
as reading has no borders as to neighborhood or nation.

For Linda’s Stream of Consciousness Sunday prompt: “tion.”

Fundy Foibles

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My friend Noreen sent me this story that she had read on Facebook. It is about an experience a man named Grant Hatcher recently had while motorcycling in Nova Scotia and since it equates in location to a frustrating story of my own, I’m reblogging it here, along with a link to my own story.

Below is a link to Grant Hatcher’s Facebook page. Read the story there if you can, then come back and read my story HERE.

https://www.facebook.com/grant.hatcher.3/posts/10158364266116253

If that link doesn’t work for you because you don’t belong to Facebook, read his story below:

Just had a wonderful time home in Cape Breton, but the start of the trip was certainly far from “smooth” sailing, let me tell you… 
I was in a rush leaving Halifax. Didn’t get out the door until about 7pm and it gets dark around 8:30pm. I was taking my motorbike and wasn’t feeling like riding at night so I figured I’d get somewhere outside Truro, head down a rural road and find a place to camp. 
After driving for an hour I pulled up to the Noell Shore, just outside Truro. It’s raining a little bit and it’s getting quite dark, so I’m a bit anxious to get my tent set up. 
I find what “appears” to be a great spot! The ground is perfectly flat and grassy. I can see this muddy channel about 12 feet below where I’m setting my tent up, this must be where the tide comes in. It’d be nice to wake up next to the ocean, just relax, no big rush to get on the go the next day. Perfect!
Before I continue, it’s important to note here that when you really want something you are prone to ignore the signs of why having this something could actually be a bad thing. For example: fall in love and you may ignore all the obvious red flags this new person has because you’re all caught up in the tingle-wingles and you want that to continue. In my situation I just really wanted to set up my tent and go to sleep. Now let’s continue.
The place I choose “seems” like the perfect spot except for a couple of things.
Thing #1) The grass is long like beach grass but it’s all completely flat. “Why is all this Grass flat?” I ask myself. “Grass normally grows straight up.” So this is weird…
Thing #2) The ground is a little squishy under my boots as I walk. Also a little strange…
“But hey, it did rain a bit earlier!” I say to myself, but not enough to make it this squishy…
Thing #3) I decided to taste the grass.Yes, I tasted the grass. And… it tasted VERY salty…
Very suspicious. “That muddy channel over there is where the ocean comes in at, the grass here probably gets some ocean spray. That explains it!” I convince myself… 
Now, MAYBE if it wasn’t so late, I wasn’t so tired, it wasn’t trickling rain, then I would have set up somewhere else, just in case. Maybe. 
I looked around one final time. “Could the tide really come up here? It’s all grass, there’s no way.” I look around and don’t see a single piece of driftwood, not a shell or anything that the ocean tides normally bring in. 
Nothing.
Just a bunch of weird ass, salty ass, flat grass…. 
So I set up my tent and climb in for the night. I was exhausted and passed out quite quickly. 
All is good in the world, until….
I wake up at 4am to a due drop that falls from the top of the tent and hits me directly in the forehead. It startled me awake, but tents collect due, no biggie. I go to roll over to readjust my sleeping position and at that precise moment I realized something was not right. 
Not right at all… lol
NOW… before we continue, I need to fill you in on the fact that I had just bought myself a BRAND NEW tent from MEC. In the past I’ve bought cheap tents from places like Walmart and Canadian Tire, but I do camp a fair bit so I decided to get a good one this time around. Nice and WATERPROOF… So let’s continue. 
Due drop to the forehead. Readjust my body. “Wait… WTF is going on?!”
My aunt Karen used to have a waterbed back in the day and it’s the ONLY comparable sensation. It was 4am, I was still in my tent, I was dry… but I was also floating…
Did I forget to mention that I did not peg my tent down? Yeah…. I didn’t 
After a moment of pure shock I INSTANTLY realize what happened. The tide came in and I am in my tent on top of the Atlantic Ocean….
I felt like Cornelius Fudge from Harry Potter and The Order of the Pheonix when he finally saw Voldemort for the first time and he’s like “He’s back!” Yeah, no shit Cornelius, DIDN’T YOU SEE ALL THE SIGNS?!?
Flat grass.
Wet grass…..
SALTY grass!!!!!
And not to mention you set your tent up on the shore of the BAY OF FUNDY where tourists come from ALL OVER THE WORLD to witness, LITERALLY, the HIGHEST TIDES ON PLANET EARTH!!!! You know, right beside the FRIGGING TIDAL BORE in Truro where the tide comes in SO FAST it makes a FRIGGING WAVE!!!!
“Grant you idiot!”
But before I can continue, we need to talk about MEC’s tents. MEC (short for Mountain Equipment Co-op), y’all make a hell of a tent! Those suckers are completely, I mean COMPLETELY, 100% waterproof. I can attest to that 💯 💯 💯 
If y’all got an upcoming commercial or need a new spokesperson, I got you! I can be the Jared to your Subway, you just call my people. 
Okay, on with the story. 
I begin to panic for a second.
“AM I FLOATING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ATLANTIC OCEAN RIGHT NOW?!?! LIKE AN I HALFWAY TO PEI?!?!”
Because, folks, I am literally in my tent and floating. Not a drop of water is in the tent, helluva tent, just the bit of condensation from my breath (that thankfully woke me up). Not a drop inside. Helluva tent. Helluva tent. 
I use my ears and listen. “I can still hear crickets! I’m still close to shore, thank god….”
As I slowly move around I can feel myself just gently bouncing up and down on the bottom. I can tell that the water is probably about 2 and a half feet deep. 
So at this point I know I’m okay. I’m still close to shore, I’m not sailing the Atlantic Ocean at night in my tent, I’m not going to die. 
ALL 
GOOD 
NEWS! 
But I have to get out of the tent, that’s clear. 
Now, please don’t forget that it’s 4am, I’m still half asleep, and even though I know I’m not going to die, this situation is still a complete mess.
Despite the fact that I have a really nice backpack in the tent that I could start to carefully pack things up in, I decide that my motorcycle helmet is my best storage device. So I put on my headlamp and gather up my phone, wallet, and boots and put them in my motorcycle helmet. 
Now, have you ever sat on a pool noodle before? You know when you stratle it you sink in the middle a little bit and both ends go up in the air? Well that’s essentially what was happening to me. When I sat up I sank in the middle of the tent and my bum gently bounced on the ocean floor, while the outside of my tent floated up all around me.
Again, it’s 4am, I’m tired…. Okay okay, I don’t know why I’m trying to rationalize my poor actions, I’ve clearly already made some grand errors, AND THEY CONTINUED!
I carefully reach over and slowly unzip the tent door: Success! I slowly move towards the door to get out: Failure! The weight of my body pushed the tent door down below the level of the water…
It was honestly like a scene from a movie…
The tent instantly, I mean INSTANTLY, “WHOOSH!”, fills up with the Atlantic Ocean. 
My pillow was floating 
My comforter was floating
My sleeping pad was floating
My leather jacket was floating
I stumble back from the door and trip over something floating “Oh, it’s my back pack… with all my clean clothes and other things.” Also dropped my boots and wallet when I tripped…
EVERYTHING, except my helmet and phone, are floating in thy high ocean water inside my tent. At 4am…
All I could do was watch in shock as things just went from bad to worse. I was like a baby who shits itself and rolls around in it and there’s nothing you can do. 
It’s a complete shit show folks! We’re full on in it now! Did I plan on swimming in the Atlantic Ocean that night? Nope! Very unplanned, but there I was….
I finally manage to climb out of my tent, literally dumbfounded, and begin to wade myself to shore, dragging my tent behind me. Oh did I mention I was naked? Yeah, I sleep naked. 
I salvage what I could from the mess of my things and haul my tent up to the side of the road. 
Now what? I’m soaked to the bone and everything I own is soaked. I decide I’m going to head to Truro and get the first hotel I can find, I don’t even care. 
I put on a pare of pants from my back pack, it’s all soaked. I begin to start packing up my tent and I see something. 
“What is that? Headlights?”
At first I think “I’m saved!”
But then look around and take in myself and my setting and I think “I CAN’T BE SEEN LIKE THIS!!!!” So I grab my tent and literally dive and hide in the bushes 🤣
Car drives by. 
Doesn’t stop.
WOO! Thank god!
I get everything packed up and Google map Truro. It’s 45 mins away, the side roads from Noelle Shore are not at all straight forward. 
Although I was very thankful to finish my unplanned swim, those 45 mins made up for the absolute coldest, wettest, and WORST drive of my life… on a motorcycle!
By this time I was already beginning to laugh in my head a bit about the absolute absurdity of my experience, but I literally had to go into a deep state of meditation, using different breathing techniques and whatnot, just to keep myself warm and sane as I made the drive to Truro.
I finally role up at the Comfort Inn in Truro at about 5:30am.
“I need a warm place to sleep.” I say. 
The front desk clerk looks me over. He is clearly curious and intrigued as to why I am there at this time in the morning and why I look so damp. Thankfully he doesn’t ask what happened…
“You know you have to check out at 11am?” he asks. 
“Great.” I respond.
“That’ll be $150.” he says. 
Completely defeated by this point I have no other options. This is where I’m sleeping tonight (but why so expensive Comfort Inn Truro?).
I take a warm shower, and let me tell you folks: HEAVEN! It was the best thing ever. I wrang all my clothes out in the tub and hung em up all around hotel room and then had the best 4 hour sleep OF MY LiFe. Woke up with just enough time to try to dry everything out with the hair dryer, didn’t really work… 
So yea, the start of my Cape Breton trip was certainly not “smooth” sailing, just very “unplanned” sailing… haaaa ha…
Very happy I didn’t die, because let’s be real, people have drowned in shallower water. Thank GOODNESS I bought a nice tent from MEC. Do y’all make boats? If so I’m sure they work great!
Helluva tent

Helluva tent

 HERE is my own story that occurred when I set out in a rental car from Halifax airport late at night, not having any idea where I was going, and ended up spending the night near the same spot that he describes some time past midnight, not in equal duress, but in duress nonetheless.