Running. I went for my first run since Minnesota yesterday. My left big toe had finally healed where I didn’t need to worry so much about the tip exploding off from the forward pressure of the foot strike. The hour long run wasn’t without its own accident however when I almost knocked myself unconscious on one of the low concrete beams that cross the top of the large u-shaped culvert that I briefly mentioned in the ‘Duck Soup’ post. What can you say about those accidents when you smack your head so hard that nothing registers but pain and blinding white light? No thoughts of what just happened or wow, that was stupid; just a baseball bat to the head from nowhere kind of sensation. One second you’re standing and moving forward and then in the briefest white light flash you are on your knees senseless .

Damn I hate that culvert. Walking across the top of it when it’s full of water scares the crap out me because a fifteen foot fall into the canal filled with all sorts of poisonous chemicals, odious waste, and mutated water creatures would truly be an unpleasant way to die. On the other hand walking through it, slipping in cow shit, and knocking yourself stupid isn’t very desirable either. After I picked myself up I thought to myself, ‘Now all I need to do is run into a few pissed off farm dogs to totally ruin my day’.

But the rest of the run went well. In spite of what turned out to be an inch long gash across the top of my head I had a great feeling of well-being waiting for the combi, Ruta Gris (the gray VW van). I got the chance to wave and say hello to a bunch of people that live out there in the valley. I am sure some that some of their smiles were of the nature thinking that crazy damn gringo is back; running in sandals with a rag tied around his head and not even smart enough to put a shirt on in the heat of the day.

Oh yeah, I found a great new place to buy good cheap Spanish red wine and unloading it from my shopping bag three days ago a bottle slipped through my hands and exploded ferociously on contact with the tile floor. A short but loud screaming fit preceded the 30 minutes it took to clean the mess up. Of course there had to have been a small personal injury involved; a glass shard embedded itself into my other big toe so there was blood in addition to the red wine and glass shards everywhere. I gotta say that I am finally starting to get sick of these back to back accidents.

Writing. I’ve decided to quit screwing around and finish the first draft for my second novel. This morning I made some serious structural changes – more organizational than anything – and I can now better see the end game, meaning working on it every morning is going to be more pleasure than pain. The story is a continuation of my first novel and the hero of my story is an engineer. I like that. There aren’t many engineers as heroes in literature and I decided that one of us needs to change that. Paul (the engineer) is mildly reluctant that his persistent side-kick, his humorous foil, is a spoiled Frenchman; a character who I must admit is beginning to grow on me. After I complete the trilogy and sell the movie rights for a fortune then I think that I’ll move to the south of France and live out my days as a gout ridden old drunk.

Eating. I figure that I need to write more about Mexican food; that is the local food from here in Michoacán. So to do that I need to experiment more; meaning I have to learn how to cook these things rather than just be able to order them in the Mercado. I had ‘bouche’ (pig stomach) tacos yesterday followed up by a big fresh fruit licquado (fruit shake) at another food stall. Last night I made a chicken liver spread for appetizers followed by the rest of the chicken finished in bay leaves and fresh tomato sauce served over purple baby potatoes. The beverage was red wine with the meal and ice-cold Corona beer with a shot or two of some very acceptable tequila as a cocktail hour warm up.

Running, writing, and eating. Can life get any better than that?