Mount Garcia

Yesterday morning we woke up to a beautiful, clear morning with a cool refreshing breeze.  We took our coffee back upstairs to enjoy the view over the village, the lake, and the mountains beyond. I noticed the cloud formation sitting right on top of Mt. Garcia, looking like smoke from the volcano it was once upon a time.  I remembered some folklore from when we were here several years ago.  The saying goes that when the clouds are sitting on top of Mt. Garcia, expect rain.  

Sure enough, we woke up this morning to the most unusual weather--a cloudy, rainy day.  All day we've had periods of off and on rain, sometimes light showers, sometimes a steady downpour, a little thunder off in one direction.   But no sunshine all day--nice and cozy for staying in and reading.

Good day

No particular reason why.  It's just seemed like the kind of ordinary day I'd like to have more often.

Right now, doing one of my favorite things: cooking risotto (and soon, shrimp), listening to Pandora.  I was missing it so much, but then we realized that Roku lets us stream it even though we're in Mexico. So, since we moved the TV into what was the dining room (along with a couch and tirned the dining room table sideways), I can cook and dance while listening to my favorite Pandora stations.  And, yes, I'm listening to my Michael Buble station.  But what really prompted my blog was hearing three Dean Martin songs and thinking of you, Z and M. Mellow.

After major storms, three nights on a row over a week ago, we all thought, with great relief, that the rainy season had commenced.  It's been really hot. Then we had nothing for over a week and the temperature eased up to 90.  It's not as bad as 90 in KY because the humidity is so low--like 20%, but still hot.  We can sleep at night with the fan and some breeze.  But last night, a wonderful storm blew up over the lake and we had those cooling breezes.  Looks like it might happen again tonight.  Hope so.

The thundershirt seems to be helping Howdy.  He's hanging in there although he's decided that the stairs to our bedroom just aren't wide enough for him to traverse them the way he does the wide garden steps.  Every day we still have with him feels like a special gift.  He's been such a good old dog.

Some of the oldies music--like Bing Crosby and Glenn Miller--has made me think about my mother.  She loved music, loved to sing, and she had a beautiful soprano voice.  Growing up, I always thought my mother had the most beautiful voice in the world.  She couldn't dance, as in "real" dancing.  In the family she grew up in, dancing just wasn't allowed.  But she would jiggle and bounce around to music on the radio.  That was the bubbly part of her personality that I loved.  When she lost some of her inhibitions, she could be really funny.  I wish you all could have know her.

Ok.  Risotto's done!