La mujer del pescador

Tuesday evening. Miramar, Nayarit, Mexico. After a full day of swimming, reading, exploring and gardening (well, Patrice gardened while Alex the gardener and I yakked), we realized we hadn't eaten since that lovely breakfast on the patio. Jim was off getting his truck fixed and had been gone for hours. So we decided to head out in search of shrimp tacos for everyone. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending how you look at it), everything shuts down early on weeknights in Miramar. So there's nada. Unless we want "hamburgesas" from the little convenience store. But we want fresh local yumminess. In the hopes that we missed something fabulicious in our search of the miniscule town, we ask an old gal if she knows where we can get something to eat. Our disappointed faces inspire her to offer a home cooked meal. It'll take a few minutes she says. Come and wait here on the patio. As we sit there feeling like we're part of a Fellini movie (as if we know what that really means), the rest of the family mills around doing what I assume is their regular Tuesday night routine, stopping occasionally to peer at us and ask us questions. So Maria fries up four portions of fish and gives it to us to take home with rice and beans and fresh salsa.

The upshot of this surreal experience was the culinary highlight of our trip. So much numminess.

Where did all that time go?

Here it is: my first post of 2015. Gotta start somewhere. In 2014 I had all sorts of good intentions. Oh well. So much for intentions. Soon I'll be off to Mexico for my third trip (not counting that wild afternoon in Tijuana in 1998 with my sister and nephew). Beaufriend is joining me this time, which is a big thrill. El Encanto, here we come!

Pet peeves and unexpected joys: A mathematical (?) approach

So there I am, as usual, seething with anger. This time, it's Patrick Brazeau. He makes me sick with his ignorance and bravado, and his undeserved power. Not that I want power, necessarily. With great power comes great responsibility? Is that what they say? But I digress. The Brazman. My extreme dislike—of the Brazman and so many other public figures—is starting to be problematic. It's having an effect on my mental health. You would think that I had enough stress close to home, right? Why on earth am I allowing the bad behaviour of famous people get under my skin? Not to mention the countless pet peeves I discover and rediscover in my everyday life, like idling cars, extremely high heels, people who don't say thank you, Internet initialisms, open-mouthed gum chewers, and so many more.

It's not much fun being angry. I needed to find a solution. So I came up with an idea. Every time I find myself getting all pumped up about something, I have to find another thing that makes me happy in equal proportions. There's nothing I can do about that macho wifebeating fraudster. But Romeo Dallaire's a good guy! The story of Zenko Hrynkiw should be enough to cancel out the latest Rob Ford scandal. I look away from the dog poo in the snow and appreciate the beautiful yarn bombed trees in my local park. I take a break from raging about car congestion on my street to check out the bounteous community garden.

It's not always easy, but I think I'm on to something. What do you think?