Q and W

Mom keeps trying to hook me up with The Fireman. Mexican time-share vacations with wily mama - nothing short of a bodice-ripping adventure.

I will not hook up with The Fireman. Instead, I will find anti-social corners under this beautiful palapa and try to get online, send my freelance work to my employers, and dissuade the many little red ants from climbing into the crevices between the Q and W keys on my keyboard. How they do love my Q and W keys, these little bastards.

Halloween was spent at a slightly too-empty donkey bar in town and then with our toes in the sand and Chilean wine in our bellies. Muy bueno.

Last night we tromped past makeshift gravestones along a tiny road down into town. Once there, we feasted on fresh red snapper and sangria, then walked along the waves to the Malecon.

It is so calm here, so peaceful.

I feel things are being worked out, patiently, privately, with the pink bulbous sun, the rich blanket forest, the roadside crucifixes, the insect deaths in my keyboard.