I would like to report that the chubby red squirrel navigated its way up the pine tree to the fifth level of branches with no assistance from me whatsoever.
You may be amazed to learn — as I was to see — that Red carried a small pinecone in its jaws while performing this feat.
Look, I know squirrels do this sort of thing very well without me. But it just seemed so important to me at the moment.
Continue reading
After waking up around 8 a.m., leisurely packing, and enjoying a nice breakfast, it occurs to me that our strategy for hiking the West Highland Way here in Scotland is a good one.
Instead of chewing up the entire 96 miles in 6 or 7 days, we are taking ten. This means later starts most days, a leisurely pace, side trips to curiosities, and an early arrival at our destination. Best of all, time to recover from the previous day’s exertions. Oh, yes, and a wee bit more pub time after we cross the finish line.
Take today for example. We set out to cover the nearly eight miles between Drymen and Balmaha. It is mostly a leisurely uphill stroll through farmland, fallow fields, forests, and fern breaks — until you reach Conic Hill.
Continue reading
It looks like I won’t be wearing a kilt as we hike the West Highland Way.
It’s not that my heart was set up on it. The whole idea started as a bit of a joke. I think Susan suggested that her husband, Brian, wear one because he has nice legs and would look good in one. He good-naturedly went along with the idea.
Rose said my legs were OK, too, and maybe I should wear one. I went hot and cold on the idea.
Continue reading
Within a month’s time, I have taken two driver’s license tests in two countries and passed both. But not exactly “with flying colors.”
My California driver’s license expired on April 10 and I tried unsuccessfully to line up an appointment to renew it in person. I just turned 74 and needed to take a new photo and the written test (and I incorrectly assumed that I’d need the driving one, too).
The problem was two-fold: My phone number is from Mexico and the DMV will not allow foreign numbers when you try to sign into the system. After repeated attempts and working with a human (I think) who promised to send me an access form to fill out and send back – he/it didn’t — I lost interest.
Continue reading
Hussong’s Cantina on Ruiz Street in Ensenada, Baja, is one of those checklist places that anyone from San Diego had to visit at least once.
An original Caesar salad in Tijuana (or one of the more unsavory attractions), a margarita at the Rosarito Beach Hotel, a stop for lobster and a pitcher of margaritas in Puerto Nuevo, and a night at Hussong’s, ebbing and flowing with the tide of drunken masses.
Now that was a pretty good weekend.
Hussong’s was unique among cantinas. It wasn’t artificially constructed as some faux Mexican fantasy to pull in the tourists with campy decor and T-shirts. Hussong’s holds liquor license No. 2 in Ensenada and is in the same building John Hussong bought and gussied up in 1892.
Continue reading
A few days ago, I watched a documentary on the human digestive system. One thing these scientists and nutritionists kept repeating when asked about food choices: “Listen to your body.”
OK, what does that even mean?
Since puberty, “listen to your body” has been the siren’s call leading me down a path to only one place, a place filled with regret, remorse, shame — and maybe a little “wowzer!”
Continue reading
I tried my idea for global peace on a few people in the crowd today as we waited for the Exploding Judases to commence.
“What if all across the United States people had a day like this where you could hang effigies of your enemies and other bad people — and watch as they were blown to bits?”
“Just think of the catharsis!”
How to begin to describe the strange looks that I got. …
Continue reading
“Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.”
– Leonardo da Vinci
Flying like Superman no longer appeals to me the way it did in my youth. You remember, “faster than a speeding bullet,” – and all that leaping tall buildings with a single bound.
It may be an age thing.
These days, I could use “stronger than a locomotive.” But I’d settle for just a stronger cup of coffee.
The apex of my yearning to fly like Superman came as he streaked around the world counterclockwise until he created enough counterforce to slow its rotation. He did do that, right? I could be conflating my own imagination with some comic book or movie scenario.
Continue reading
An old friend sent me a list today of all the former employees of the Wilson Publishing Company who would be attending a reunion in the next week or so.
The list spans more than 40 years. I was surprised to find that I know or recognize nearly half the names. Each name sent me into fresh reverie, triggered a sweet memory of another era.
My friend, Brian Mitchell, like me, was an editor of one of Wilson’s several weekly newspapers in Southern Rhode Island. Brian’s was the newest of the three and he got to create his paper from scratch – a most challenging and yet, enviable, task.
Mine was a hand-me-down, more than 100 years old but well-cared for – the flagship paper of the little Wilson empire, The Narragansett Times.
Continue reading
The voice is young, sweet, innocent and yet, broken in a way only love’s betrayal can scar.
She accompanies herself on a guitar, languidly strumming. Not living, not dead. In the between. In the neverland of a broken heart. The vocalist drags out the last words of each line, as if groping toward a precipice. It may be in Spanish but it feels very French.
The singing is coming from an upper patio of the building next door.
Continue reading
Musings, Magic, San Miguel and More 