This and that in Mazatlan

You'd think that 24 hours a day with no chores or responsibilities, I'd have plenty of time to think up scintillating posts for you. Wouldn't you?

Nada. So, here's a typical day's schedule:

I get up between 7 and 9. That's A.M.

I eat breakfast--either a couple eggs scrambled with salsa and folded into fresh flour tortillas, or some of the wonderful yogurt they sell here. It's a well-known brand, but has granola and fruit and nuts in it, already mixed up.

Here's the yogurt counter at a local grocery store. That's ALL yogurt. Other dairy products offered could fit in my suitcase. I have no idea what the deal is with yogurt.

After breakfast, I grab my shoulder bag and head for Starbucks, about a mile away. I don't drink coffee. Quit in 1965. It's not the coffee, baby. It's the wireless!

Along the way, I stop at a creek and feed four slices of Wonder bread ("turtle bread") to the turtles.

Every day along the way, something new catches my eye. One day it's the shape of the trees.

Another, it's a pickup bed filled with corn husks.

Or the fountains in people's front yards.

Or, this vendor selling I don't know what. I never see him with customers. All I see is a giant, economy sized bottle of hot sauce.

I stop at a "supermarket" which is about the size of a small 7/11, and get a bottle of Coke Zero for ocho pesos, or about 75 cents. I pay $1.69 in Anchorage, and about $3 million in airports.

Back at the condo, I lounge around the pool all afternoon, reading books on my new Kindle, and snorkeling. I snorkel instead of swim because I can't multi-task when it comes to water, and I'm really fond of breathing. I snorkel a lot, figuring 25 laps around the pool is a half-mile.

Sometimes, we go out to dinner.

Pre-prandials at El Mamin, a seafood restaurant.

You like that word, "pre-prandial?" You won't believe where I learned it: in a construction camp so close to the end of the earth, you could see it from there.

Coconut shrimp and cole slaw with pineapple and chopped pecans....

To-die-for shrimp and sweet chilies tacos. With the Pacifico, $7 U.S. I could live there.

Then, back to the condo and the Kindle.

Sometimes I write. In fact, I have lots of stories saved up, but I need to get back home to the photos to illustrate them. One has to do with the day I found my mother in bed with a strange man. Another regards the time I found the plug that keeps the demons of hell from escaping their underground warren. Yet another is about the Glow in the Dark Boys.

It's a trilogy so far, but I'm considering a fourth chapter. What is that called? A saga? An epic?

And last (so far) is a treatise on the liability laws of Mexico.

Ah, well. Time to leave Starbucks and head back to the pool. Except, Julie London is singing "Cry Me a River." Maybe I'll hang around for a few more minutes, finish up my medium iced passion fruit tea.

I'm trying to figure out a dream I had last night. I won't go into the gory details, but it involved a stage production, a murder, me pushing myself in a wheelchair with a short stick through the snowy streets of Anchorage, running for an attorney love of mine for help.

I mean, really! Maybe I should have skipped the guacamole and chips last night.

On the other hand, I AM totally entertained all night.