Rain!

It was almost inevitable: the gal who gives the weather report on a local channel (and why are all these girls dressed like inexpensive prostitutes??) told us that after yesterday morning there was "no chance of rain at all". So it rained like the end of the world after five o'clock, and today dawned clear, cool and just begging for a very early run.

All the lights were out on half the running path; it was slippery, and leaves and acorns covered wide swathes, and you couldn't see a danged thing. After what happened here in Monterrey on Thursday, everyone seemed to be waiting until light in order to run--nervousness, perhaps, or the possibility of falling like a bag of cement on that slippery path.

On Thursday at three-thirty in the afternoon, a comando of hitmen entered a casino in the municipality of Monterrey. The casino was filled with older people, women, employees and a few men. The hitmen splashed gasoline over the area and set it afire. The casino had only one entrance open--the main one. A side door was blocked, and a so-called emergency exit turned out to be a fake door. Fifty-two people died in the fire and by being trampled. At the moment, a three million dollar reward is being offered by the Mexican government for information leading to the capture of the perpetrators; these are the kinds of people who would sell their mothers into prostitution if there was money in it, so before long I expect results. Someone is going to rat them out.

At least for me, a totally unexpected outcome of this horrendous incident is that I began writing for our newspaper again on the editorial page after a hiatus of three years. Sometimes you've just got to get involved no matter what. This is the only way open to me to do so, so I'm going to take it.

Back in the Outback

A hot, tiresome wind blew yesterday all afternoon, which here is the precursor to a drop in the temperature. The humidity was still at a "low" 75%, but this morning dawned just cool enough to make the park an option again. Besides, you get to miss your training buddies and their moral support.

Of course I forgot that school was in session again, and that meant that at seven a.m. the traffic was horrendous both on and off the running path. Nevertheless, I started out mildly by walking four K with an occasional trot just to get back in the swing of things, after trading greetings and remarks with the team and reporting that there are two kilos less of me.

It was a very routine and mild workout, except for one marvelous event which fulfilled a long-held desire. I've mentioned before those people who dash by you so close that you are in danger of being shoved off the path; they are inevitably going a lot faster than you are, too. As I finished my workout today and marched to the end of the block, I put my hands on my hips and stuck out my elbows. To my surprise and secret delight, one of those near-miss runners didn't miss my elbow today and clipped himself right sharp somewhere in the waist region. He may have apologized but it came out as an incoherent mumble. Ah, these are the little moments that make life fun!

Right outside my computer room window there sits a squirrel in a crook of the magnolia tree, peering in at me, finishing off an acorn; a hummingbird is resting on a tiny branch of the same tree, zipping at the feeder from time to time; and two brilliant yellow and black birds are dive-bombing my chile plants that sit on the patio splashed by the dappled, tolerable morning sun. Are they eating the chile seeds? That is the hottest part of the chile! Random events in a calm life, at least for now.

The Little Halter Top as a Weapon of My Mass Destruction

So far, so good. About three to four pounds less of me, something that will be nice to declare to my training team. And there is a fool-proof way, now, to keep my sensible eating on track:

It's the little halter top, or in my case, the No-Boob Sports Bra. This piece of armor shoves the excess me all over the place, so to contemplate myself all geared up to run is to perceive the full horror of those rolls and curves--they have no place to hide. Since my goal is to be able actually to go out and run in this item of clothing, without having to add the excess layers on top of it as a disguise (only to myself, everyone else knows where the fat is), my most effective weapon is the halter top seen in its full glory in my mirror.

It's either lose weight or die of the heat.

Summer Reading

Once in a while, something comes along that threatens to undo the family finances. For many, many years now I've been buying books at Amazon.com because when I went back to school to study clinical psychology, there were almost no professional publications in Spanish except those dealing with psychoanalysis. And those were, to put it mildly, quite traditional. I built up a psychology library of such proportions that professors began to recommend to their students that they contact me if they needed some unusual reference material. But no, that didn't break the bank...it was a slow and immensely pleasurable process. I also learned that when you loan a book, you'd better ask for a deposit equivalent to the value of the book plus tax, because you may never see it again in its original condition.

It costs more to have a book shipped to my house than the book itself costs, so for a long time I would make periodic trips to Laredo with friends or family, and there I would visit my post office box to gather up the bookish loot waiting for me. No, this did not put me in the poor house either. Indeed it can be such a pain in the butt to make the ever-so-boring trip that I would often let things pile up in order to make the whole procedure less painful.

But, alas, or hot damn, all that has changed, and my finances teeter on the brink. There on the Amazon page was the irresistable picture of the Kindle, along with a map showing the areas in Mexico covered by Amazon's free Whispernet service for downloading books. You guessed it: I live in the big fat middle of this blessed area. With horror--or elation, depending on my funds--the service even reaches me at the quinta. So I bought the thing, and life has not been the same.

At the click of a blasted key, and the groan of a credit card, books flow to my Kindle apace. If it were possible to keep one's head steady while running on a treadmill--good luck trying that one--I might never see the street again, because I'd be reading for five kilometers.

Here are my recommendations so far, some little things that will distract us from the monstrous weather:

"The Post-American World" by the brilliant Fareed Zakaria.

"Appetite for Life" by Noel Fitch, the fascinating biography of Julia Child.

"Ultimate Punishment" by Scott Turow, his erudite considerations on the death penalty (he can't decide, it seems. Scott Turow is a lawyer, by the way..)

Anything by Ruth Rendell and P.D. James

"Long Walk to Freedom" by Nelson Mandela.

And last but highly enteraining, "Absolute Monarchs" by John J. Norwich, a history of the popes--and a bigger group of scoundrels has rarely been gathered under one roof, but their lives are rollicking indeed!

Still indoors...

It's official. Our summer has been declared the hottest on record. But there are now other exciting issues to add to the delight: our state government has decided to undergo a major revamping of one of the most-used streets and intersections in the whole metropolitan area, and while drivers roast under the sun with the car a/c going full blast, they must wait sometimes more than an hour to get past the tie-up or try to find an alternative route. The surprise is, there aint one. This means that traffic backs up for blocks and blocks during "rush" hour, and next week the faeces really hits the fan because school starts. Mark my words, there are going to be acts of violence.

As it is, under the indifferent noses of traffic cops, yesterday people drove over medians, made illegal turns, went the wrong way down one-way streets, all in an effort to get out of the traffic jam. Our glorious governor is the instigator of said public works, and I predict he will be hung in effigy (mainly because no one can actually get his hands on the real thing) multiple times.

Anyway, it's back to the treadmill for me until next week. My only triumph is that I am still losing weight, slowly but surely. As I told my mother, my bathing suit no longer fits me--it's too big! Although I attribute this mainly to the fact that it has probably stretched, this represents the second change-of-style bathing suit that is now obsolete. My first bathing suit a few years ago after we got a swimming pool was that ghastly kind that looked more like a burka than a bathing suit--nothing was left uncovered, but it made me look even fatter than I was. Then I graduated to a one-piece, high-leg suit which is now defunct. Also as I told my mom, it's just big enough that I'm always worried something will either fall off or ride up. My next suit is going to be one of those Spandex things so tight that your body is distributed everywhere except where the suit is.

It's off to run, this time with an old favorite, "The Day of the Jackal".

Wilted and Wasted

In the 21 years I've lived here, this is the worst summer weather. The humidity is now somewhere around six million percent, and everyone feels tired and worn to a frazzle. It has made the treadmill feel like a pleasure because if you run outside, the effort is beyond human endurance--yes, yes, all right, there are tons of people out there slogging through the muggy air, but they aren't old like I am! Indoors the only challenge is what movie to watch while running. The exercise choices seem reduced to dying of the heat and humidity outdoors, or dying of boredom if you can't find a movie you want to watch. (Music won't get me through three miles of running, no matter where I am.

Hell.

"It's not the heat, it's the humility": Yogi Berra.

After three blocks of walking this morning, it was obvious that my masochism doesn't reach the depth required to submit myself to running is this weather. Back home for me, and on to the treadmill while watching "The King's Speech". Air conditioning on full blast, overhead fan going.

Nevertheless, I've kept the faith with the training group: There are almost two pounds less of me. After the weight I lost two years ago, I may be within striking range of getting myself back into some decent clothes.