La Posada. Bunk beds, 8 people to a room. Hostel sleep environment. We had a few snorers this time that waked the dead and caused the dogs around there to yelp in sync. Ear plugs much in demand.
The little white tin death trap car is how I got to Tijuana. We made it there and back a bit rattled, but unscathed. The faded "Practice random kindness and senseless acts of beauty" bumper sticker makes all the difference.
I found Jesus in Tijuana. At the Jesus theme park.
Is Waldo related to Wally?
Big ditch.
Un-molding cast concrete roofing modules.
Don't let this cute neighborhood kid fool you. She's a monster.
Digging footings, setting sand. Antonio, right, patriarch of the family that we worked with this time.
Dog in vest. Muy stylish.
I carried all those concrete blocks. Heavy Heavy Heavy. I will be in pain tomorrow. Getting old.
This disturbs me. There is a dog on one end, and a horse on the other. Neither animal entices me to eat there. I'm guessing the squiggly waves emanating from the doghorsebun thing is supposed to symbolize aroma, but they make me think the doghorsebun thing needs a bath.
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