Take me away to Pina Colada-town

Sometime in mid to late October it was decided that I'd be going to Mexico in late January. Since then days lost nearly all meaning except in their proximity to the Jan 20th departure date. A bad day at work? That's okay, in 2 months and 12 days I'll be in Mexico. Another bad day at work? That's okay, only 2 months and 11 days til Mexico. Another bad day at work? That's okay, only 41 actual days of work until Mexico, et cetera ad nauseum. So now I'm back, a week of work post Mexico, nine days and six hours since the plane touched down. Needless to say this past week has provided a resurgence of my always ongoing existential crisis, the one that began a few years ago when I started having panic attacks brought on by thoughts of death without an afterlife, my conservative upbringing fully countered (if not beaten into submission) by my liberal education and/or rejecting of the 'ignorance is bliss' caveat. Anywho, one week down two thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine to go, ha ha ha ha.

Mexico ruled, I think my first three days there were the most peaceful I've had in succession in several years, if not ever. Lying on the beach with a steady rotation of drinks in my hand, eating way too much food of every possible ethnic variety whenever I felt like it, laughingly trying to utilize the fifty words I know in Spanish to the locals, the sun, the red-flagged waves that repeatedly swept out my legs like the Cobra Kai, and the white beach sand that was always cool on my feet despite the high temperature. The last few days were diminished (only slightly) by clouds, cooler temperatures, and the inevitable feeling that I couldn't stay forever, and would return to reality with only a t-shirt, cheap maracas, a surprisingly slight suntan, and two bottles of tequila as evidence of the experience. But the number one highlight probably occurred on the last full day we were there, swimming in a cenote (sinkhole) a few miles away from Chichen Itza, a hundred feet underground in water that was 150 feet deep, with roots and sun and small waterfalls spilling onto our heads, jumping timidly off small cliffs into the freshest water I've ever seen or tasted. There are 290 digital pictures and 75 on film, at least a couple will be posted when I get around to it.

So I've been back and have done nothing of note. Stayed home mostly, made a delicious 15-bean and ham soup, went out for middle eastern food once, tried to exercise but couldn't find my 'work-out shorts', today went to see 'The New World' and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Coming as soon as possible: 'A new edition of 'Props', a stat-heavy breakdown of my annual "best of 200-" albums as compared with the general critical consensus, something about NFL Football or college basketball, and funnier, better written posts with no mention whatsoever about how boring things are or of death.