Archive for December, 2012

It’s the day after Christmas and all through the casa there is no sound of yapping or yipping or nada. That’s because Aldo is at the vet being dejewelled, discomballulated, neutrosticated. What a Christmas present, eh? I am feeling his pain. Hopefully it will result in positive changes in his behavior and make him more popular and universally loved. We’ll see.

Run, Aldo, Run.

Run, Aldo, Run.

We spent the day at our friends, Cara and Gordon, for fun and feasting yesterday. Barbecued turkey, tortilla soup, sweet potatoes con tequila, wasabi mashed potatoes, cornbread with poblanos, all excellent. Their house is on a hill not far away from our own casita and affords an excellent view in all directions. Let me show you a few sights we saw.

Somebody got a new ATV for Xmas.

Somebody got a new ATV for Xmas.

Table trimmings.

Table trimmings.

La flora de la season

La flora de la season

Just another beautiful sunset.

Just another beautiful sunset.

Dove covey crossing moon.

Dove covey crossing moon.

A good time was had by all and to all a good night.

At 1:30 we go back to pick up Aldo. I imagine he will be all barbed out and deballed. Please offer him your good wishes for a safe and sane recovery in his time of need.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Happy Birthday to all you Christmas Eve babies like Ava Gardner. And Merry Christmas or a holiday selection of equal value to all of the rest of you.

ava-gardner2

Better This Time

Posted: December 24, 2012 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , ,

The scanner we left in Todos Santos earlier this year must have been miffed at being left behind. It acted as though it had never met my laptop and positively refused to scan. Being McGyverous I tried to make-do with taking a snap shot of my art with my old flip videocamera. The results were less than adequate. In the next couple of days the electronic amigos have reconciled and Senor Scanner is accomodating my art again. Here is a comic episode originally titled “Camera Ready” in a much more readable for. Muchos gracias Senor Scanner.

arrival

This is dedicated to our friends, Gordon and Cara, who have helped make our return to paradise much smoother than it would have been, and we thank them.

Dear Diary, today started out in such promising fashion. I sprang out of bed like I had just heard the hoofbeats of eight tiny reindeer, but it was only a rooster crowing at one of those spectacular sunrises that are so common here in Todos Santos. Common, but they never cease to be awe-inspiring. After a breakfast of chorizo and eggs, we did a little more sprucing up around the casa, and then took off for Pescadero and the farmers market scene at Baja Beans. And it is a scene, with a jammed up parking lot and thick crowds moving through the aisles of vendors or sitting with the brunch bunch at the restaurant. A trio mellowed out some Grateful Ditties for the shoppers as no one danced. We saw a few familiar faces, bought some cute little beaded monkey necklaces for our granddaughters, some delicious mango/jalapeno jam from the jam lady and excused ourselves from this casual crafty Costco.

 

Will the real wannabe Uichal please stand up.

Will the real wannabe Uichal please stand up.

M(ass) Transit

M(ass) Transit

Wares

Wares

Gail and Aldo leaving beans behind.

Gail and Aldo leaving beans behind.

Since the Sandbar is right across the highway in Pescadero we decided to risk the ruts to get to our favorite sports bar so I could get my NFL fix. Alas, the place was empty. Back to Ballena Azul and a beeline to Shut Up Frank’s and we were in MargaritaVille, chompin’ on a cheeseburger watching two meaningless games. Two o’clock found us drowsy and headed back to the casita before returning for a “real” game, The San Francisco Forty Niners versus The Seattle Seahawks.

Staring into the bar mirror was more exciting than the Jets or Chargers.

Staring into the bar mirror was more exciting than the Jets or Chargers.

 

This was a bad game. Little did we know that we were to see worse later, much much worse.

This was a bad game. Little did we know that we were to see worse later, much much worse.

We were jolted out of our siesta serenity by the coming of The Alfonsos, father and son tag team, who presented us with the bill for their labors. They did a great job cleaning up the grounds and repairing some rickety fencing, so the place did look much better than we had anticipated. But some of the work was done without our approval and without any agreement on a price in advance. Suddenly it seemed as though we were hemorrhaging pesos. We may have to put our plans to rethatch the roof on hold. Add to that Gail is still grieving over her dead ipad, my printer/scanner has Romnesia, and the day has definitely taken a turn for the South.

But being the rough and ready Niner fans we are, we headed back to Shut Up Franks for the clash of two Divisional revivals. We should have just stayed home and resumed our nap because the San Francisco Forty Niners never seemed to wake up for the game.

When I think back to this day I will choose to remember the splendor of the rising sun, and repress the rest.

fourtrees

 

 

 

Tomas Rivera, whose birthday was yesterday, is a Mexican-American author, poet (won’t hold that against him) and a Mex-Am Children’s Book Award was named after him (gotta love that). Other than that I know absolutely nada. So once again, heeeeere’s Wiki.

Tomás Rivera (December 22, 1935 – May 16, 1984) was a Chicano author, poet, and educator. He was born in Texas to migrant farm workers, and worked in the fields as a young boy. However, he achieved social mobility through education—earning a degree at Southwest Texas State University (now known as Texas State University), and later a Doctor of Philosophy degree (PhD) at the University of Oklahoma—and came to believe strongly in the virtues of education for Mexican-Americans.

As an author, Rivera is best remembered for his 1971 Faulknerian stream-of-consciousness novella …y no se lo tragó la tierra, translated into English variously as This Migrant Earth and as …and the Earth Did Not Devour Him. This book won the first Premio Quinto Sol award.

Rivera taught in high schools throughout the Southwest USA, and later at Sam Houston State University and the University of Texas at El Paso. From 1979 until his death in 1984, he was the chancellor of the University of California, Riverside, the first Mexican-American to hold such a position at the University of California.

Dec.22, 1935-May 16, 1984

Dec.22, 1935-May 16, 1984

Rivera died May 16, 1984 [17] in his Fontana home. He is remembered as a gifted teacher, consummate administrator and acclaimed poet by many. After his death, many plazas, schools and certifications were named in his honor: a University of Texas at Austin professorship, the primary University of California, Riverside library and a plaza (as mentioned above), a Riverside Unified School District elementary school, a Denton, Texas elementary school, a Val Verde Unified School District middle school, a Crystal City (his hometown) elementary school, a Mexican-American children’s book, an honorary doctorate from Santa Clara University and was named a distinguished alumnus by Texas State University-San Marcos. His work is studied in courses of American and Chicano literature, and the Tomás Rivera Policy Institute bearing his name continues to publish studies on educational, immigration, economic, and other issues important to Hispanic-Americans.

At the University of Texas at San Antonio, a tutoring center is named in his honor. At Texas State University-San Marcos Student Center Drive was renamed Tomas Rivera Drive in his honor.[citation needed] In 1995, the College of Education at Texas State established the Tomás Rivera Mexican American Children’s Book Award “to honor authors and illustrators who create literature that depicts the Mexican American experience”; winners have included such notable authors as Rudolfo Anaya, Pat Mora, and Gary Soto.

In the year following his death, the General Library at UC Riverside was renamed the Tomás Rivera Library. His wife, Concepción Rivera donated all of her late husbands papers to be put on loan at this library. The archive now contains all of Rivera’s work, more than 85,000 items. The contents of this archive is indicative of his hardworking, selfless and motivated nature. Not only did Rivera leave this world with buildings, plazas and learning centers in his name, he left an imprint on future generations of chicanos. Above all, Rivera had a vision for the world: that generations of migrant workers following his own would have equitable access to post-secondary education and opportunities to succeed

 

Camera Ready?

Posted: December 23, 2012 in Uncategorized

I probably shouldn’t even put up this poor reproduction of my art. I should just stockpile my drawings till I figure out why my scanner and my computer are pretending they’ve never met. But I’m just not that kind of guy, I guess. Hope you will forgive the bad definition and settle for the good intentions.

Courtesy of my flipcamera image.

Courtesy of my flipcamera image.

We awoke much too early on Thursday morning, sleepily brushed our teeth, combed our hair, got dressed, kerflumped our heavy bags into the pickup and headed for the Santa Rosa Airport where we would pick up the Airporter to SFO. We arrived at SFO in plenty of time to check in our bags, get through security and partially consume huge expensive breakfasts. Gail was literally sickened by the fact that her ipad had ceased to function. After another hour or so we boarded the plane and took off for Baja. Aldo went through his usual pre-takeoff anxiety attack. A hyper-sensitive woman took umbrage with his yips and wanted to know what was going on. When I assured her that once we got up to cruising speed he would be OK, she assured me that it was not OK with her. Finally mollified she returned to her place with my silent wishes that she had a seat by a screaming baby for the duration of the flight. Aldo was great for the remainder of the trip.

It took a long time to get out of the Alaskan Airline jet, wait in the long lines to clear customs and claim our baggage at the San Jose del Cabo Airport. Eventually we emerged from the crowd to find our friends, Gordon and Cara waiting for us. We stuffed their pickup, already jammed with Costco provisions from their shopping trip, with our luggage and headed off into the setting sun to our home in Todos Santos.

We spent the first night at Gordon and Cara’s place. They joined us the next morning (bless their hearts) in cleaning up the dust, mouse dookie, and cockroach carapaces, and gecko droppings that had accumilated at our casita in our 10 month absence. I did a drawing of much of these goings on but I am unable to scan it because of some technical difficulties with my computer, so you’ll just have to take my words for it for now. But I do have some pictures of the sunrise on our second day of sleeping in Casa Fisherrero.

Dramatic huh?

Dramatic huh?

Palms up.

Palms up.

Cactus salutes the break of day.

Cactus salutes the break of day.

I know this is the same kinda stuff I posted last year, but hey, this is why we come here eh?

I know this is the same kinda stuff I posted last year, but hey, this is why we come here eh?