"The Love Embrace of the Universe, the Earth (Mexico), Me, Diego, and Mr. Xolotl," by Frida Kahlo, 1949.
Warm sand
crackle of shells underfoot
fresh fish, rotting seaweed
live clams in net bags draped dockside
flap-flap of fresh tortillas
pepper sting of salsa
cold Pacificos
music from the thatched hut bar
barely audible buzz of sand flies
Fuchsia-covered walls
large rooms with wooden floors
and ceiling fans that stir warm moist air
yellow-brown lizards moving with the sun
flicking in and out of the shade
butterfly kisses
language that does not need words
He wasn't actually my first love (that was Elvis). But because he died before he had a chance to disappoint, he was a lingering one. I tried to breathe in every frame of "Rebel without a Cause," knowing in my heart that I could have saved him.
Nor your votes and campaign funding support to those who abandon the public option for fear of offending insurance companies and big pharma.
OK, so it wasn't quite this hot here today, but it was damn close: 107 at the high point. Even now, at almost 7:00 pm, it's still in the low nineties. But, we like it that way, for the most part, and when it begins to cool off in the evening, it's a little slice of heaven. Really. No really, it is.
Devil's Tower in Wyoming was the first US National Monument, so designated on this day in 1906 by President Teddy Roosevelt. It makes me feel more than a little guilty that I spend so little time exploring the natural world these days.
Faith Hill
Bill Murray
Steven King
Diane Rehm
Leonard Cohen
Colorful ballroom
