My blog, which started out to be about overcoming grief, quickly grew into a blog about celebrating life. I post daily: poems, photographs, essays or stories. I've lived in countries all around the globe but have finally come to rest in Mexico, where I've lived since 2001. My books may be found on Amazon in Kindle and print format, my art in local Ajijic galleries. Hope to see you at my blog.
photo by Ben Hershey for Unsplash, used with permission
As a jock he’s overrated. He’s insipid and a bore. He dishes out the dirt on all his dates that’s mainly lore. By their choice a second date is rarely in the works. They have their radar out for all such predatory jerks. On the field he’s second rate at passing and advancing. But those skills are stellar when compared to his romancing!
Mykonos is a city of light and wind. Citizens are required to whitewash their houses three times a year and color police enforce the color restrictions. Narrow winding streets were a deterrent to marauding pirates and they did a good job of deterring me as well. We were perpetually lost. The wrapped pipes (white, of course) reminded me of African masks. It was obvious to us all why Mykonos is noted for its windmills, as constant gusty winds helped to cool down the otherwise hot day. Shopping galore, but I resisted the $1500 blouse and instead photographed the resident reigning cat in her royal wicker chair. No dogs were in evidence, but this black cat welcomed us to shore from her comfortable spot under the shade of a concrete bench. A lovely end to our last day of the cruise. Tomorrow we arise at 6 to go to Athens to catch our separate planes to Chicago. We overnight there and then I head back to Guadalajara, my sister back to Sheridan.
This park is overrated. It is not my zone of choice. One cannot be heard here unless you raise your voice. The signs are not well-written. They’re curt and brash and rude. One gets pebbles in one’s shoes when fashionably shoed. Little dogs are walked here that irritate my nose, and I don’t approve of the scanty jogging clothes. If the Queen were walking here, I think she would be shocked, for not one single passer-by is stockinged, gloved and frocked! All-in-all, a walk here is not what it once was.
I only visit here because the ice cream vendor does!