Caviar for lunch....

We have been there in the spring, years ago - the famus Huntington Library.  It is so much more than a library, with three buildings full of paintings, a research building and a green house.  The gardens are spectacular any time of year but the day we went, a thunderstorm was brewing.  We snagged a table in the tearoom where leetle, tiny sandwiches, interesting salads were displayed.  At the end of the display table, almost hidden, was a bowl of caviar.  I scooped it onto crackers with clotted cream (its a tea room after all)  and squeeze of  lemon and made an exhibition of myself.  Moaning.  Not de riguer behavior at the Huntington.

The Japanese garden looked serene, but was hot, hot, hot and tucked away in a gully, beautifully arranged and magnificent.  No cooloing wind, and the koi were lazy.

All right, who gets to rake this? Robert made a small Zen garden years ago which had a small rake and some lovely minerals as standing rocks and fun to rearrange.  The end of  this masterpiece and next door was full of ancient bonsai, just as mysterious and open to meditative wonder as the rock garden.  Too hot...we wandered into the main gallery, where a guard had to give me cold water to keep from passing out in the heat. Outdoor museum guard in both the Norton Simon and the Huntington have tough jobs having to stand in the heat, rain, etc.  I doubt they even care about meditation, although the slow passing of time is probably broken up with goffy tourists who need attention of some sort.

Horses to the meadow

Ma and Pa ready to ride the range:  up to 8500' plus.  For years we have wanted to take day rides in the nountains above Lake Edison and this year we saw the sign.  Day rides were now available:  from an hour to all day.  We chose 4 hours, thinking, we have done this.  Yeah. Right.  Years ago.  I was last on a horse with Barbara last summer and was terrified at the steep trails.  This was similar and yet, very different - we were in wilderness and climbed up and up and more.  When we crossed a small meadow, bees attacked us and my guy had front and back legs underneath him and I thought we were going to have a buck off.  It was dry and dusty climbing up - a huge difference from last year with all the flowers and underbrush.  Robert fell in love with horses.  I took lots of Ibuprofen and had trouble getting off the horse as my legs wouldn't work.

Graveyard Meadow was our trip destination and had a lovely little stream in it - and loads of cattle.  I was concerned at how the cattle got up to the meadow as the trail was pretty much single file from the horse lodge, and uphill.  The other trail needed a ferry or the cows swam across.  Their travels remained a mystery.  Robert is standing on part of the Pacific Crest/John Muir trail which continues to the low point in the trees and then up into a pass to more lakes.  We are across the lake from our camp and loving it.  years ago we hiked up to the pass and were pretty happy we had horses this time.  Until I had to get off it back at the lodge.

 

On the trip down the mountain, I asked Robert to stop so I could photograph the river below the hot springs.  Last year, the rocks on both sides were underwater.  There are small pools from the hot springs on the hill to the left.  Driving down to Mono Hot Springs is one of the terrifying part of the trip back down and it seemed to be as good an excuse as any just to get out of the car to take some long breaths.
I always hate to leave Vermilion Valley - and was glad we were able to do the trip this year, even a fast spur of the moment trip.  It was not the same without Dave and Bridget - perhaps next year.  I used to make fun of people who vacationed in the same place every year - but it is always new and different up there.  The tranquility, the fruitless search (sometimes) for fish, the sunsets that color the valley scarlet and purple, and the lake - all worth the awful drive.  It is a place that fills my soul.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stairway of sorts ....to heaven

Philosophers say the journey is part of the destination and with Lake Edison, so true.  We have been coming up the road from hell, and don't mean Fresno/Clovis, but the road with single lanes, treacherous drop offs and steep turns for over twenty years.  Some years I scream a lot from acrophobia, but this year I determined to look out across the valleys and down the cliffs and to breathe.  It sort of worked.  From 10,000' at Kaiser Pass, each familiar turn in the road led to another and we began to relax and wonder at the lake level.  Last year it was in front of the bare tree shown in the middle of the photo.  This year, ominous words of "low snow pack" had us concerned.  No matter, it is always blissful when we get here - and a spur of the moment trip from the noise of Marina Del Rey had us back in a small slice of heaven.  Both for us and the dogs.

Mono Creek,  is where I caught my first trout years ago, and not knowing what to do, just got all female and kept asking what do I do.  Ian, who was along with little  Ali, dryly suggested I reel it in and not having the right equipment he wrapped it in a dry diaper.  Suggested wisdom is to allow the bait to run down the river and slowly reel it in.  This year, I fell in, trying to get to my favorite spot near a deep area where I have always found trout in the past.  That gave the six, yes, six, guys who were crowding my favorite site some good ammunition about women.  The camp ground is one of our favorites, off the main road - but horrors, the rough areas had been smoothed out and the place was crowded.  I think the six guys spent all their time untangling their lines.  The sense of freedom and remoteness has been mitigated with concrete dust to level  around the larger boulders in the road.  Anybody can go there now.  I am not good at sharing secret spots.

One of the things that is a huge challenge to a painter is to paint moving water and get it to look translucent.  This small treasure of fish hole is upstream and we saw a woman trying to fish it.  I had visions of tangled lines when trying to reel in anything.  I didn't want to fish it, and thought it would make a fine watercolor.  Besides, after falling and having a tough time getting out of the current, wet and cold meant a warm shower and wine back at camp.
Everytime we leave here, we wonder if we will ever return.  Our lifestyle is such that no matter where we go, this place calls us.  We were supposed to be in in Panama at this time, suffering in heat and bugs.  This year, we were blessed with family "stuff" and were able to make the wild trek back to this beloved place.  Thank God.

These photos were loaned to us by a boat broker here in Marina Del Rey - he raved about sailing Shockwave years ago when the IOR class was supreme.  I was afraid to take them out of the frame, thus the reflection.  Racing took fifteen guys - and it looks as if they had "coffe grinders" oon board.  When we bought the boat we tried to take it back to original and a good thing we did.  We found that foam "batten"s had ben added to the hull to beat the IOR rule, but the battens were not glassed or sealed in.  If we had bumped something and took water through that klugy, idiotic  mess, we would have been in big trouble.  The second owner did a lot of things we changed and now feel a lot more secure in our hull.

I'O used to be Confrontation, but before that, was the first Shockwave:  built in New Zealand to get the then owner's money out of NZ.  Currency restrictions were fierce then, and he brought the boat to  Hawaii and then to San Francisco.  It won the (Hawaii) Round the State Race, was dismasted off of the southern part of the Big Islan but went on to victory.  It wond most of the Big Boat series in San Francisco Bay and was so infamous that the crew was called "the twisted sisters".  NZ humor.  The original paint job was the one I saw at the Waikiki Yacht Club when invited aboard years and years ago.  The spinnaker is about to round them down - you can see the action of the crew trying to get their weight on the high side.
That spinnaker was cut down to make a cruising spinnaker for us - yet to be flown.  We might be chicken.

Up close and personal.....



A park is across the channel where sailing and rowing lessons are given.  The channel also leads to public access and we get some wild  waves from boaters who think 5mph is code for go like hell.  In the middle of the night.  We rock and roll and it isn't romance. We heard opera from the park last week and found that they are putting on classical concerts every Thursday - so we will dink over with dinner and freeze while getting some culture.  When reading in my bunk sometimes I will yell at Robert to go see who is about to crash into us as I can see masts a little too close for comfort out of the overhead hatch) and if I can see the masts, then the boat hull is right behind -er, below.  So far the only thing threatening has been a huge dory with kids trying to learn to row while texting.

He/she calmly watches as I walk down the dock and we have a conversation about not pooping on the dock.  Me, talking to it.  A night heron seems to hang around at the same time, hoping for tidbits.  The whole channel is covered with the pelicans when the fishing boats come it.  As they pass our side tie several times a day, we are used to them, but never used to the "carpet" of pelicans.  They follow, dip,  and hang onto the fishing boats and ignore the passengers when returning.  The crew uses shirts and hoses to try to get them to leave, but they manage to get into the bait buckets or steal the fish.  A man on shore was yelling, "Bag, bag, bag" while I was walking Murray.  I was about to get pretty insulted when I saw a huge bird walk up and steal a bag of fish while the fellow that paid lots of dollars to have his fish stolen was the subject of a lot of laughing.

Dagny Taggard comes to town.  It just kept passing us by, and passing and passing.  We thought the Queen Mary was going to be hauled out.  What a great name.  We get a daily show of before and after as the boats have to pass us to get to the yard.  Good fun.

The Fourth



All day we we were having what is known as June gloom here, in July with low clouds and sort of fog.  Then it lifted, so we hoped to see the fireworks in more than blue and red fog.
Robert ran up our flag.  Those are our spreaders in the background.

Ian and Janice skunking us at cards.  Evan and Aaron were out scouting the many channels of Marina Del Rey.  We at least had some sun, but later were handing out coats and big towels to keep warm.  Dinner was late - incredible barbecued chicken from Ian, Ian's good beer, corn and fruit.    We all wanted to go to sleep but had to make it until 9 for the fireworks. 
The parking lots were jammed with cars, we were free, thank heaven as people had to pay $20.  The park across the way looked like and sounded like Disneyland.  When the fireworks went off, you could hear thousands of voices....but when the incredible finale exploded the sky - it sounded as if we were in a huge amphitheaterwith people clapping and cheering.  The explosions echoed  and boomed around the bay - we couldn't see all the people but hear this enormous crowd cheering and yelling.

Evan and Aaron waiting for nightfall.
The fireworks had been cancelled in the past couple of years, and the 20 minutes we had were full of spectacular explosions.  Does  this mean the economy has improved?

More Norton Simon

Whoever designed the garden is a painter, also.  Purple trees against pure green trees, large leaves against small leaves, a lily pad pond (Monet lives) and constrasting and complementary colors.  It was awe inspring and a wonderful place despite hearing the freeway close by. 

Natural lady with nude and bamboo.  A male friend, who has never said anything complimentary to me in his life, (a sure sign of friendship) asked what happened to my "beautiful, long red hair."   Time, honey.  Time.  That and living on a boat..........
Nearby is the Huntington Gardens/Library where other incredible paintings are displayed and the garden is huge.  I am more attracted to the scale of the NS as the layout is a painting with surprises around each curve.

Most young girls have a fascination with ballet - well, perhaps young girls from another age as Justin Beiber has taken over the young female consciousness.  I drew and sketched famous ballerinas  as an early teen and when cleaning out stuff for a move, found  drawings of Maria Tallchief and other famous ladies in my hopeless chest.  Degas had more than a fascination, and with the  amount of small statuary and paintings in the collection, it is safe to say he  was obsessed with them.  Or Norton Simon's curator was - as they dominate the Impressionists room.  We spent more time circlelling and staring at these until we looked like potential burglars.

Cultsha.....

This is a new model for Henry Moore.  Years ago I went on one of Robert's business trips with him to Toronto.  Froze, but found a museum that was packed with Henry Moore sculpture - so much so that it was hard to move between them.  It was more of a store house than a museum, on  a second floor which had to have been reinforced to take the heavy weight.  At the Norton Simon, the sculptures are all over in a garden and inside the building, in such a way that they appear to have always been there.  The paintings were astonishing for a collection that had been built over 30 years - dating from the 1300s to the 1990s:  names and images that are famous and fantastic.  We were in awe - and were able to get our noses right close  to the work.  Photos were allowed, also - without flash - we loved the place.  We had been to an exhibit of Diebenkorn at the Orange Country Museum and the guards kept telling us to keep three feet away from the work.  Back away from the work, lady! Of course some of the precious stuff had barriers but we were able to breathe in the colors and sense of the work.  Awe doesn't cover our feelings - it was almost religious in there.
As an aside, the brochure said the museum was remodelled in the 1990s by Frank Gehry.....couldn't tell at all.  He must, with his giant ego, have sublimated something to make the whole place magic and serene.  And then we had to hit the traffic on the freeway to come home but were high on the experience until Lincoln Blvd.

Monet's work is so famed for the water lilies that this garden was another fascination spot in the museum.  People would get so close and then just stand there.  I did, too...this isn't one that is seen very often and is joyous in color, but painted in a time when he had all sorts of life changing events that were not positive.  I tried to talk to Robert about why shadows are blue, why concrete is pink and got nowhere.  He looked at a painting by Ingres, and said "this is real art."  Humph. 

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My new bff. People were enthralled with this guy - called simply, A Peasant. Me, too.  The color is so vivid that it glows in a room with limited light.  Not one that is found very often in books about the artist.
I have been in the major museums in Washington DC, but was not as excited and thrilled as I was yesterday at the Norton Simon.  The Art Institute in Chicago is another emotional art experience with all their Monet's....but the entire setting of the NS, with the beautiful garden and exhibit galleries is pretty hard to beat. I may just like this area, after all.

Swimmng lessons......

Murray wears a harness now during the daytime as he had an adventure that caused great stress on both himself and me.  He slid, with his klutzy self backwards off the dock.  Earlier in the day the boat had been rocked furiously by a wake and I went out to investigate.  A seadoo, naturally.  I had some words with the young man and he apologized, and then proceeded to tow another man who was in the water back to the ramp.   We had errands to run and on the way out, Murray went butt end, right in the water.  "There was no way I could get him out and it appeared he didn't know how to swim as he flapped his paws a lot.  He would disappear around the boat and I raced back aboard trying to find rope or something I could tie to him to effect a rescue.  The men I yelled at were across the channel and came over to help.  Murray swam to one, put his paws on either side of the man's shoulder while the man held onto the dock.  The other leaped off the seadoo, which went its merry way up the channel, and tried to pull Murry out with me helping.  We couldn't do it as it was 80 pounds straight up.  My heart was pounding and the poor dog was frozen in postion.  I finally got his harness on him and we were able to pull him out, whereby Koa gave him a ration of crap for causing trouble.
Then the seach for the seadoo becan, with one guy asking what the wind was and the other swimming off into the channel.  Seadoo found, they headed out on what they called their maden voyage, not having any idea of how relieved and happy Murray and I were.  Koa was still pretty disgusted with him.  What was amazing was the instant trust Murry had for the stranger who nestled him close and how he didn't move, even when I wrestled the harness on him.  It is a picture that will stay wil me for a long time, and a reminder of goofy as dogs are, we are really their minders.

End ties are pretty special and expensive (but not for us) here in the marina - and supposed to be easy to get in and out of when leaving the dock.  We have current (at tide times) and always a westerly wind behind us, and now we have a power boat immediately in front of us.  And Murray, checking out the scene.  This is his harbor, his boat, his dock but damned if he wants to claim the water.

Where the big bears roamed.......



White lilacs are supposed to be pretty rare, and I was excited to see a bush at Neal and Stu's house in Big Bear.  We were up there to housesit and watch Norman, a German Shepherd with a goofy sense of humor.  Not only were there white lilacs all over, but there were all types and all types of purple.   It was magic, seeing all the lilacs and wondering how they had adapted at that altitude.  The magic did not last. We had gone back to spring in travelling up to about 7000'.  Getting away from the boat was a good idea, but then we started sneezing, noses dripping and eyes itching to the point of catatonic behavior.  Spring had sprung its dirty trick on us in big ways.  Here we were with all sorts of wonderful things to do and we were crippled by an unseen terror: pollen.  We were ticked.  But there was tv to watch - we only get five regular channels on the boat and 65 Asian channels.

A lot of development has occurred since the lake was created but we were able to find this vacant lot across the street to let all the dogs sniff and run and do their thing.  This side of the lake has every type of house possible, with an enphasis on mountain syle, but there are still little cabins hugging rocks that you need to take a boat to or hike in.  The road up makes the road to Lake Edison look puny, with horrendous drop offs and I kept looking at the map to see if there was another way down, as all I could envision was something out of a horror movie with the car blasting loose, no brakes and loud screams on the return.

Looking toward the dam.  We rented a runabout and the engine had fits but in our short exploring we found a more deserted area of the lake across the way.  We took our bikes over and huffed and puffed alongside the lake, with stops to breathe through the pollen.  An old hotel across the lake was built in the 20's and we wondered at how the early visitors were able to get their cars up what had to have been the road from hell.  We left early with poor old Norman in the car with our dogs and met Neale and Stu at thier plane at LAX, just so we could breathe ocean air.  No.  It was just so we could breathe.  Anytime pollen overcomes meds, there is trouble - and we found it at Big Bear.

LA's fine - to quote Neil Diamond

These are the noisy neighbors.  We have been on an end tie and think we are ok, almost,  to the point that the seal/sealions ram the boat trying to stun fish against our hull.  Imagine the sound of  heavy breathing sea monsters while sleeping and then the boom of the monster hitting an aluminum hull, reverberating through  terror dreams.  Good fun.  There are laws about getting too close to these loud critters so the yard guys try to "gently" wash them off the docks.  Doesn't work as they hang around in the water and when the humans leave, they are back, sinking the docks.  Whatever they were feeding on have been eaten or gone elsewhere, as we now only have he ones following the fishing tour boats past our slip.  Very intent swimming with the white egrets and the hordes of pelicans, who are not shy about landiong on the fishing boats.

Robert flying the cruisng spinnaker...cut down from monster size.  This is the only time it has flown as the wind seems to be on our nose, forever on our nose.  And honestly, we are scared.  Sort of.  Actually, after the spring rains, he is drying it out.

We have been pretty busy and didn't think the blog would be interesting while we were in one harbor, but life here in our basin is never boring.  We are at the entrance to the boatyard and see lovely yachts trying to back into the haulout slips, while holding our breath hoping we don't get rammed.  It is a question for the universe as to why skippers do not turn arouind when reversing their vessel.  The manager of the boatyard took a 52' Beneteau wrong way out of the haulout slip, out to the channel, turned it deftly around in the high winds we had and backed down so beautifully a lot of heads were hung in shame.  This is a Mexican who runs the boaryard and seems to know his stuff.  There is also a public ramp nearby where all kinds of boats are launched, the big party boat across the channed who scares hell out of me when he moves to the fishing dock and looms over us.  We feel pretty safe here and are lulled to sleep with the sound of LA:  sirens and rap music at midnight by errant boaters in the channel.  That guy's life was about to be cut short, but we couldn't find the flare gun.

Since we have been here, we have gone to Placerville, The Boat show in Oakland, moved Linda to Chino Hills and not taken the boat out.  We have heard great news of Jean's marriage, Hilda's out of the hospital and healing, young Thomas being free of cancer and Robert going to work at West Marine, parttime.  That was a surprise.  We realized, after the boat show, that we have almost everything we want aboard except for a SSB and AIS and the sexy new anchors that supposedly holds in hurricanes.  So Robert, with his discount can get us whatever we need for the next trip, wherever and whenever.  In the meantime, we will sail around here and find little anchorages in Catalina where you don't go broke paying for a mooring ball.

Marine Del Rey and our new life.........

There are too many people here in S. Calif - all on the freeway, talking on their cell phones, driving from the inside lane to an exit across six lanes at 70 mph, and without signals.
We are overwhelmed by the jnoise of sirens, planes, yelling yard workers here at our marina, and yet, peace is welcome at evening when life here slows down.  Well, at least it slows here in the marina.  Supposedly there are liveaboards, but we don't really see them the way it was like in Alameda and Redwood City. 
The sky fell this past weekend with huge winds that were up to 65 mph in the valley and not too far away here in the marina.  We were snug and dry, trying to find any leaks that might show up. 

Hell is going north.......

This is out of sequence as to real time, but then, it is always good to see sunsets........


At least part of the time it was hellish. Between huge winds, waves and seasickness, going north was not fun for the guys.  As Robert was sending out Spot positions that seemed to be stuck in place, both Bridget and I wondered why they wern't moving .   All sorts of disaster scenarios were going through my head.  Sure, we at home sitting on the computers were worried as Passage and Bouy weather were both showing big wind and waves in the forecast. 
The guys, with other boats ducked into Bahia Asuncion to sit out the weather and spent a boring couple of days on the hook. 
Leaks had appeared in the forepeak, from the ports on the doghouse, and the boat was just wet and the guys were cold and tired.

The weather window opened up with some areas forecasting huge waves north of Cedros, but they went for it and the attached photo shows a peaceful night.  Robert was able to call via a cell tower on Cedros and I was able to tell Bridget that they were moving.  Huge sighs of relief.

Home is the sailor......

I'O is pretty distinctive, coming down the channel to the Police docks after three days of great weather from Turtle Bay.  Robert was able to call me from off Ensenada and I raced down the freeway from LA to be able to meet them and perhaps have a celebration of the end of their bash up Baja.  Since they had pulled into Bahia Asuncion to escape a norther, the guys had no choice but to continue to slog north after getting fuel in Turtle Bay.  They were blessed and surprised with beautiful weahter and seas, but were still too tired to party in San Diego.  I thought sailors were up for a party, no matter what. 
I left after lunch and drove back to LA and managed to get lost somewhere outside of Irvine, thinking I could have been partying with the sailors, who were all in bed by 7 pm, alone and sober.  Ian gave me some liquor to calm my freeway nerves and disappointment.

Twenty four hours later, the guys were in Marina Del Rey at the guest dock - now tell me they arn't tired.  They had put on double shifts, thinking that traffic would be intense coming up from San Diego.  They maybe saw one large ship, but did manage to make the Navy nervous as they passed a war games area with their Spot message send out.  I ws on the phone with Robert and heard the Navy on his handheld, talking of a mystery transmission.  Uh huh, these are the terrorists sailors - you can tell by the ugly bird on the bow.  After showers, lunch at Max's Deli, and a  good night's sleep, we headed north to Placerville to take Jeff home.  And I'O moved to her slip in the Boatyard - facing the next big thing:  a haulout.  So the sailors are home, from sunsets, huge wind and waves, whales breaching, dolphins playing and the real work begins. 
 I really miss Nuevo - LA will never be home.

Goodbye Nuevo....



Heartbreakingly beautiful morning, and we are leaving.  Actually, as I post this, we are docked in Marina Del Rey - but that is a story for a later time.  We picked Jeff up at the airport, and did the last minute chores to get ready to leave.  As the dredging had not been done in the channel yet, the guys were trying to set departure at high tide in three days. Although beautiful, red sky at morning meant that today was going to be a bit rough out in the water.  So we shopped for food, climbed the mast a couple times ( notice the royal "we") and tried to cram in 20 hours of chores into ten.

Rosa brought the family down to say goodbye - we both cried and promised to call each other.  But that means I have to improve my Spanish as she doesn't speak English.  The kids are learning it in school, and Pedro speaks it well enough to do his job and be a good friend.  He said I lost my Spanish when I went north....

Fabian and a young Huichol boy - his dad was making our "elephant"....and Fabian made our last tacos.  He and Fernanda were married in May, last year, and opened this restaurant to immediate happiness of the tourists and locals around.  To them, all the cruisers in the marina below them were family - just another example of the warmth and love of the locals.  The mom and dad Huichols set up their stand near the restaurant, and they were put to work at the restaurant.  The night before we left, a group had a birthday party and Fabian and Fernanda cut cake for all of us - tourists, too.  Tourists would take cabs to find the place and end up spending more for their cab, as the tacos were about .75 each....and wonderful.  It was tough to say goodbye to them.

Bucerias

Robert said, "Go over there by him and I will get your picture."  It wasn't until days later that he told me it was a bull.  And me without my cape.
You can rent him and ride him along the beach in Bucerias, one of our favorite villages (Canada South) slighltly north of us.  We could cross the harbor channel and hike to it in front of all the resorts here in Nuevo.  There is one part of town that is all little shops for the tourists and you bargain at half what is offered and then bargain some more.  Some of the t shirts are scatalogical or rude  as if scatalogical isn't rude---but the Canadians seem to like them.  What kind of a person wears a t shirt that says they have large anatomical parts....I mean, there is supposed to be truth in advertising, right? 
The Chiapas Indians have appeared with their wonderfully embroidered "stuff" and some with the attitude that Oaxaca is no longer Oaxaca, but Chiapas.  Ok.  But we are in Jalisco,  happy Jalisco and the majority of the Indians are Huichol and not up to rioting for name changes and recognition.  No, we leave that sort of thing to the "occupiers" in the U.

More life on B dock......

You know how  some magazines have a contest as to the best caption for a photo? 
This is one - so folks, send in those captions and you will win a tour of .....well, we don't know yet.

Robert is holding his Filter boss....made by him and not costing an arm and a leg at West Marine.  Gadget man rules.  But he sure doesn't look happy about it.

The real Christmas.....

Christmas was a bit of a bummer as we were not doing well, and then Pedro suggested we come out to their house for a visit a few days later.  We had bought presents for the kids:  a monopoly game, little cars and a chess set.  We played in the dirt with the cars, then played monopoly (which really wasn't) on the table and tried to teach Hosue  how to play chess.  He caught on very fast, but I was as fuddled from the strange monopoly as in the Ajedrez game.  That is chess for you non speakers.  We were served scrammbled eggs and beans with the greatest fresh salsa, and ate in the midst of the roosters, hens, cats, puppy and three dogs.  It was wonderful. 
The table cloth is one we found in Bali, in 2004, after the horrible earthquake and tsunami there.  It brought back memories of other holidays spent with Linda when we would try to travel to fun places.  So we were double blessed, despite feeling puny.

Natalalia is two and decided she didn't want anything to do with the pictures.  Cesar Daniel  was at work at the grocery store in Paradise Village, across from us - it takes an hour from their house outside of town, on myriad busses and an hour home just to nake a few dollars.
Some days Pedro shows up to work in some of the clothes we gave him - like Bid Dog  shorts and a Latitude T shirt   It is all about family.  And this family is now our's - love is thicker than blood, in some ways and we feel really blessed by this familty.  They have nothing and yet gave us a day of joy and laughing.

Paradise Village is across the channel and has a mall, many offices, timeshare sellers and a marina that is supposed to be voted the best in Mexico.  Well, we think Nuevo is the best as they don't have Pedro.  Our marina was almost full this year as the old docks are supposed to be pulled out and the derelicts removed.  Strange, as daily, they seem to disappear and we were told it takes an act of Mexican congress to sink a boat......

One of the houses, and it is a single family house, that line the marina.  The contrast between this and Pedro's house is stark, but we think there is a lot of happiness at Pedro's.  There may be no roof over the courtyard and running water is from a hose, but his home made our Christmas.  That and hearing from our sons