¿Qué tal con el pelo?

The wind is out of the northwest for a day or two now, bending my palms at the waist - pushing sand and bichas through every crack the builders left unsealed.  I'm pleased to see the waves chopping away at the mounds of seaweed left by normal tides, but I could do without the howling sounds all night (unless I'm responsible).  I'm probably one of three customers in the place right now, and the other two look like they're competing for the "look like an asshole in Mexico" trophy. 

We've been whipping Mighty Fine into shape for sellin', believe that.  The painting is finally done, they're repairing the sinkhole in the garage (builder didn't reinforce the concrete with rebar....), and I spent the morning loading wheelbarrows with old concrete and tile, schlepping it up to the entrance of the property to pave a portion of the driveway (under the powder/sand for some strangth, ya'll).  The wheelbarrow had a flat tire, so it was an extra special workout for my everything, really.  Manuel, the guy in charge of the crew fixing the floor, was drunk at 10 am.  He said the same thing over and over and over.  I asked him how many cervezas he'd had that morning so far, and he became un poco furioso.  I think he tried to use the excuse that banks are closed today for drinking, perhaps it was lost in translation.  I rebuilt the aluminum hinge on the door upstairs, and the replacement glass should be here on Wednesday for the front sliding door.  Treats all around.

 January is wrapping itself up nicely, and it's strange to think I've been here almost 2 months already.  I don't want to jinx it, but I've hooked up with a guy named Ricardo who is very interested in buying the house.  He's a rich guy from Merida, lives in Chino Hills currently, and he's down here from time to time for cruising around on his little yacht.  I've got a copy of the appraisal to him with some extra pictures for his wife, and I may hear something in the next couple weeks or so. 

On a lighter note - my hair is out of control.  I haven't cut it since well before my exit in early December, and the rooster point you've grown to know and love is history.  I'm trying to figure out what to do with it, right now I'm rocking a combed back look (think Hannibal Lector meets the Major from Inglorious Bastards meets your Mom).  This situation, combined with my ever-improving espanol (poco a poco), are creating quite the combination down here south of the border.  In short, if I wasn't me, and I saw me out, I'd punch myself.  Que Bueno!

For those of you concerned with the wellbeing and whereabouts of one Negrito El Perro, he is around and doing quite well.  I've recently found out that he's only about 6 months old, his father lives up the road and is appropriately named "Loco", and that the white dog he's been dry-humping for the last few weeks is actually his sister from the same litter, as opposed to his brother from another mother.  Again...Que Bueno!  What's even more que buenoer than that, is Diego the goofball ignored our warnings of "wasp!" while cleaning some plants, and was stung just under that crazy eye of his.  If it's possible, he's even more handsome now with the white/green pus leaking from the corner of his eye.  Mmmmm.

I'm so hungry right now, you don't even know.  I shall wrap up this gorgeous mass of words with the following:  Just because the drunk Mexican guy that looks like a deranged Bill Murray with a mullet THINKS he's helping you back up your car into an empty street, doesn't mean you should give him 5 pesos for a tip.  He's just going to buy booze with it.  Buy him a sandwich.  Andale!