Monday, March 27, 2017


Actually what I hate is having my life upset.

Just when I get it to where I think I could live this way until I die, some SOB comes along and upsets my applecart.

So, I'm struggling.

We're packing.

We're divesting.

We're making piles of stuff that will either sell at a yard sale or be donated to whomever will take it.

Or go into the dumpster.

My biggest worry right now is that we have given 30 or so days notice on this place and we still don't have a place to go.

I'm thinkin' of a cardboard box under a bridge.

And then how would I get those marvelous meals prepared by SWMBO?

She has reassured me this evening.

She said it will all be okay.

She said we will find a place.

Come to think of it, she has always found a place.

She's good that way.

Maybe I should stop worrying.

Or find a bigger cardboard box.

Saturday, March 25, 2017


Many years ago we lived in Mexico for a few years and we loved the Mexican food.

Not Tex-Mex, Gentle Readers.

This was wonderful seafood, great barbacoa (BBQ, for you Americans), and delicious moles.

Now those last are not those critters that dig up your lawns.

These are MO-lays!

Wonderful sauces of chocolate and coffee and spices that are layered over chicken or beef or even just tortillas.

Delicious, especially the deep dark Oaxacan mole.

We went to a Oaxacan restaurant in Guadalajara that had become a favorite of ours with a group that included a friend who steadfastly refused to taste the mole.

She said, resolutely, "I don't eat black food!"

And the mole was pretty dark.

Nothing would convince her to even try it.

Her loss, I say.

Because Judy has found a small grocery that sells bottled mole that is as dark and delicious as that we had in Mexico.

And tonight (for the second time in a week) we had it over some baked chicken.

It may look like road tar but get over it!

It is delicious.

The chicken was sauced with the mole and brought to the table with some black beans and cilantro and a combination she has perfected of quinoa and brown rice.



And oh again.

Is your scribe happy?

Is his tummy full?

As we say in Mexico, "you betcha!"

Friday, March 24, 2017


When times look dark and foreboding, it's the humor that gets you through, Gentle Readers, so let us continue our time-honored tradition.

All right, folks, let's get out there and have a fabulous spring weekend and always . . . . . . always . . . . . . remember to keep laughing!

Here, kitty-kitty . . .

(Hey, how do you feel about our moving, huh?)

Thursday, March 23, 2017


So, Gentle Readers, I've been dropping very subtle hints that a change is in the offing once again for these nomads.

We have been thinking about the future for several years as we groan into our late 70's and early 80's.

Planning on downsizing, getting rid of the accumulated "stuff" of years, nay, decades.

And now, it appears, our hands are about to be forced.

We learned on Monday that the landlord of the property where we have lived very happily for three years is putting it up for sale.

That means that once again we face the ugly prospect of moving.

A realtor was here yesterday to do a walk-through and a look-see and she told us that when the word comes for certain, since we are on a month-to-month lease we will probably have 30 days to vacate.

So that means the agonizing search for a new home that we can afford and the more agonizing packing, selling or donating the detritus of ages.

So that's it, folks.

We are not, as one of you worried, plagued by new health maladies.

It's just another relocation in a lifetime that has numbered the moves in more than a score.

I'll keep you posted from time to time.

Like the tiny leaves now appearing on the redbud tree outside my window, it is yet another new beginning.

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

ONLY . . .

. . . time will tell.

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

LIFE IS . . .

. . . just one damned thing after another.

Monday, March 20, 2017