Wow! I can’t believe what’s been happening around here the last few days. The wind has been blowing so hard that the palm trees look like the hurricane pictures you see on TV. If you can picture small Chihuahuas, straw hats and large tents flying down the street, you understand what we’re talking about here. After playing golf in it we were covered with sand, in our hair, ears, and other sensitive areas.
There is a brown haze that surrounds us from the ongoing sand storm. The dirt penetrates solid stucco walls and covers everything in the houses. Cars with completely closed windows have a fine film of dust covering the entire interior. I’ve discovered that it really pisses women off when you write your name in the dust on their coffee tables. If they would just wait a couple of hours, a new layer would obliterate the writing.
This morning the temperature has dropped like a rock and it’s a chilly 60 degrees and cloudy. Well, not totally cloudy, but enough to make the sun have to dance around to find open spots. It’s sending shafts of light radiating from its center through holes in the clouds fanning out trying to warm this chilly earth.
Global warming, my nalgas! Today we’ll have to wear long pants and maybe even a sweater. No big deal, you say? HA. That violates our God given right to wear shorts and tee shirts. It upsets the basic, fundamental rhythm of our lives. The human suffering is almost intolerable. No trips to the swimming pool today. We’ll probably have to have a cocktail party just to survive. Well, OK, maybe that is a little extreme. We’d have the party anyway.
Peso and I are going to be bachelors today. Diane is going up into the mountains in search of Pai Pai Indian pottery. She has put together a deal with a local art gallery to sell their pottery, to help them survive. They live pretty primitive lives up there, but make beautiful pottery.
Hope this works out for her. More importantly, I hope I don’t get in too much trouble with the boys today. Being unsupervised all day can be dangerous, especially at the staff meeting we have after golf. Some of those guys are a bad influence.
That’s why I like them so much. But they do think differently than women, and wives struggle to understand what in the world we were thinking when we try to lob golf balls over the pro shop, and dent a few windows.
The pro doesn’t quite understand either, just like the restaurant manager gets crabby when we order pizza to be delivered to his restaurant. Sometimes we do get lucky. Our wives don’t find out what happened until a long time later. By then some of the sting has worn off, and we only have to do penance for a few days.
Well, hope your weather is better than ours and write if you get work.