Regular readers of these chronicles may remember back in January when the Evil East  Wind blew down the palapa while I was enjoying a wee drop of Jameson. I am happy to report that a new palapa has just been erected and so I’m looking forward to the gentle summery days ahead.

OH, THE EVIL WHIMS OF WINTER!

Here on the ranch we got it all in one day – snow, sleet, rain  and hail – everything but gatos and perros. I am not a wimp, but I have no reason  to stir abroad today.  Sonia,  my faithful housekeeper of many years, has arranged a cozy place for me by the fire with all my needs within easy reach.  And there’s  caldo de res in the kettle!

TREASURE IN THE TRASH

A funny thing happened to me on the way to the Diana the other day. I just had to share it with all of  you. To begin with, I have to be honest about my addiction.  Everyone in Tecate already knows about it. I confess the fact that I am a  slave to my habit and I’ve been told by therapists that there is no hope for me. I failed rehab. I’m forever addicted to crossword puzzles! There was nothing in the house, and I was displaying withdrawal symptoms. Crashing down hard! Sonia, my faithful housekeeper, AKA She Who Knows Everything recognied the symptoms immedately and began to search  everywhere in hopes of finding at least one unmarked cross -word.  Nothing. She even  sifted through the bins in the barn. Again nothing. Driven like a degenerate junkie, I left the ranch and drove the twelve kilometers into town.  I parked the car and as I  long as I was in town, headed toward the Diana for a margarita  to comfort a troubled soul.  As I came around the corner I tossed an unfaithful Mega Millions lottery ticket into the city  trash  barrel on the corner.  As I did this I spotted my fix in the trash  – a pristine crossword! With racing pulse I  reached, in threw aside the plastic cups and taco wrappers, and just as I was coming up with my drug, I had the sensation that someone was watching me. An older woman of ample bosom with a head scarf over steel wool hair, stood a few feet away staring at me. She stood rigid as the  bronze Benito Juarez in the plaza. On her face was a look of disgust and revulsion,  as though a bad smell had just reached her nostrils. I’d seen that look before on the school principal’s face when my rabbit I took for show and tell  unloaded a generous quantity of pellets on her desk.  I ‘m known to have a quick mind so I immediately knew exactly what the woman  was thinking, but  acute embarrassment robbed me of speech.  I hung my head in shame. Gradually the iron face  melted into a smile of genuine pity and  understanding, the dark eyes softened, conveying genuine compassion for the hopeless garbage hound looking for lunch.  Her voice was soft and gentle. “Here señor, you don’t have to live like that, you poor soul.” She pressed $20 pesos into my hand. “Leave that now, and go get yourself a taco.”