“On June 6, 1995 the President of Mexico, Mr. Ernesto Zedillo Ponce de León  declared the waters of Cabo Pulmo as a National Marine Park.”

“In a study by Octavio Aburto, a scientist at the Scripps Institute in San Diego, the biomass of sea life has increased over 460%,  [since making it a reserve] making the Cabo Pulmo National Park the most recovered marine reserve in the world.”

from Oceanhealthindex.org

 

play hard

smile big

laugh loud

but don’t take the rocks

(it’s a marine reserve…Cabo Pulmo in Baja California Sur)

bring the dog

a couple of sandwiches

some oranges and a soda or two

but don’t go taking the shells or the coral or the rocks home with you

from Cabo Pulmo, a marine reserve in Baja California Sur

Check it out:

http://news.discovery.com/earth/oceans/most-successful-marine-reserve-cabo-pulmo-110812.htm

http://voices.nationalgeographic.com/2012/06/09/cabo-pulmo-national-marine-park-bajas-miracle-threatened/

http://www.cabopulmo.com/

 

 

 

 

“Fly! Fly higher!” Kathy yells to me. We are six and four; cute little girls, both of us with blond hair and blue eyes.

 

The water meter on the side of my house stood only about 20 inches off the ground, but to us it was so high that we were certain we could launch from it, flap our arm-wings and soar. After an hour, we tired of this game, and moved on to more excitement as we bragged to each other of our long and harrowing flights.

It is when thinking of my childhood in the days of bumble bees and watermelon that I am reminded of a time when water did not seem such a precious resource.

Sprinklers meant to water lawns would often go unattended while water spilled onto the street. This runoff became a swift, running river to us kids. Kathy and I would carefully choose blades of grass to serve as boats for a race.

 

 

As luck would have it, we had only a short walk up to the top of our street. Not much of an incline really, but good enough. “On your mark, get set, go!” We tossed our little blades of grass into the street’s river and watched as our boats maneuvered between the debris dotting the channels of water. When our little boats got stuck, the rule was to wait to the count of three before dislodging them, thus allowing the race to continue to our designated finish line. I don’t think we were extremely competitive, but I remember the taste of victory as being especially sweet. These childhood games were the stuff of our cheap thrills.

 

What happened to childhood innocence once we grew into mean, junior high school girls whose main concern was the latest gossip? The competition was hot and heavy in those days and the games were as different as the rules.

 

 

Whatever were we thinking when my girlfriend and I agreed to meet after school and play strip poker with three boys we barely knew? Were their any brain cells popping? Probably not.

Filled with fear and hard-driving adrenaline, mixed with very little poker skill, one item of clothing after another fell to the floor. Knowing that I would become the fodder for gossip scared me almost more than exposing my teeny, tiny breasts. More like bumps with nipples really. But for some reason I had difficulty rallying the courage to call an end to the game. What was I doing there?

My shoes came off. Next my socks, my skirt, my half-slip. My reputation would be next. My heart was trying to escape my chest. Enough. I just can’t do this. Game over.

 

Thank God those boys were not of a violent nature. They did not harass us girls to stay in the game. We retrieved our discarded clothing, wrapping them haphazardly so as to cover ourselves, and escaped to the bathroom to dress.

 

Calling an end to the game meant we avoided a danger as real as if we had fallen and narrowly escaped from a pit of alligators.

 

Truth be known, I think the boys were as relieved as we were to be finished with our game of strip poker, before it stripped us all of what little intelligence and common sense we could have possibly possessed as adolescents.

 

Sometimes life interrupts life.

Many experiences took away my energy for writing, but now I have a lot to write about and  I’m back. This summer my journey took me to places I’ve never been, and to places I used to be. It wasn’t all good. It wasn’t all bad. The woman I continue to become found unknown strength, but she disappointed herself sometimes too.

 

Somehow I have come to believe that the bottom line can never truly be the bottom line.

Conversely, the heights to which we aspire must never be reached, else we stop reaching.

 

Hula Girl on our trip home.

I’m glad to be home.

 

I’m glad to be writing again. Come back and join me?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Take each day by the scruff of the neck, throw it to the winds, and make a splash! Whatever happens, happens.

As I learn and grow I realize that I can take on more of what life has to offer, and make it into more of what my dreams are made of.

Lately I’ve been asking myself, “Why not work on appreciating all that you have?”

It’s a good day? Great! It’s a bad day? Fix it. And if I’m blessed, there will be another day coming. One that has nothing in it yet. Think I should just make a splash!

 

I want to be better at making each day what I want it to be. Even when I have tasks that aren’t that much fun and can even be considered downright awful, there is more to any day I’m given to make into something better.

 

I’ll set aside some time for the not-so-fun stuff and give myself the rest of the day to experience joy–in whatever form that is for me. Reading? Doodling? Sewing? Camping? Walking on the beach with my dog? Body surfing? Making dinner to share with friends? Writing? Oh, and there is always napping!

 

I love my options.

 

 

Okay…let’s let the day begin. I’m alive, alert, awake, joyous, and enthusiastic about life!

All the photos are from 9 Palms on the East Cape, about a 3-hour drive from our home.

Life can certainly be good.

On some roads behind our house, Isabela and I take off for a morning walk. This time we are avoiding the beach because yesterday afternoon she had her flea and tick medicine applied. This means she can’t get wet for at least 24 hours.

As it turns out, a walk in the hills is just what we needed. Isabela loves to chase rabbits (conejos), and nothing I say can change her mind. What great control I have, huh? We encounter several of them this morning, and my pup is getting in lots of running.

 

 

The clouds are beautiful and the farmer’s fields are lush and green.

We encountered only one other person–a woman and her tiny dog–and all we heard was a little construction and lots of singing birds. Nice way to start the day for sure. We made a big loop and I got to see our house from on high.

 

 

We are truly blessed and enjoying our retirement. I’m lost in the fantasy of what I imagined it would be. Life is good.

Our captain, Israel, can maneuver without hands apparently!

March 11, 2015

Our excursion on this wonderful day was my husband’s idea. He knows how much I love to do things like this (even if I am a little bit of a chicken). I’m ecstatic when he suggests it and we went on a hunt for two more passengers for the boat. We settled on two of our adorable friends who have never met one another–Katie, a local surfer girl, and Blaze, our next door neighbor–both of whom are single. It wasn’t a set-up though, honest.

Greg, Blaze (on the bow), me & Katie

Our guide was Paula, from the Todos Santos Surf Shop. She and Carlos own the store, are both surfers, and we know them to be super good people. Carlos had to work at the shop, but we are in good hands with Paula, who has a degree in marine biology, and has taken lots of people on this trip. See them at: https://www.facebook.com/explorabaja?fref=ts

Paula, who is originally from Uruguay

Say adios to La Paz, we’re heading for the whale sharks.

The cormorants know the way as well.

Both of these photos are from online, because I don’t have mine yet.

Our guide, Paula, took some with a go-pro, but she hasn’t sent them to me yet.

First things first: I was a little nervous about getting in the water with these behemoths. I always experience a bit of anxiety the first five minutes I’m out snorkeling. I don’t have mucho experience, and it is a wee bit of a stretch for me. Throw in a GIGANTIC fish, and my adrenaline reaches its peak.

I am intellectually aware of the facts: these creatures are filter feeders. But the me, whose stomach is churning, is a little afraid of swimming with an animal that can reach 40 ft. in length and weigh up 20+ tons. Might they just like a retired teacher for breakfast? It doesn’t seem to matter to me that I am not plankton, which is this fish’s diet.

Soon I settle down, and though the visibility isn’t all that great, I can see them. And they can see me.

Can I just say, “Oh my God! What a thrill.”

Here are some facts from See the Wild Wildlife Conservation Travel. You can find them at http://www.seethewild.org/shark-facts

Whale sharks are the largest fish on the planet. These gentle giants are filter-feeders and are harmless to humans. The enormous whale shark, which can reach lengths of 40 feet or more, feeds on the tiniest of ocean organisms, plankton. 

Whale sharks are striking in their appearance not only for their size but also for their unique pattern of spots and bars covering its gray body.

More facts found at http://animals.nationalgeographic.com/animals/fish/whale-shark/

The whale shark’s flattened head sports a blunt snout above its mouth with short barbels protruding from its nostrils. Its back and sides are gray to brown with white spots among pale vertical and horizontal stripes, and its belly is white. Its two dorsal fins are set rearward on its body, which ends in a large dual-lobbed caudal fin (or tail).

---

That was exhilarating, but we have other places to go. Off to a sweet, almost secluded spot to have lunch. But first, we swim with sea lions about 20 minutes from where we swam with the whale sharks. Now I honestly think I have died and gone to heaven. This is beyond a wonderful experience. I have been around sea lions my entire life, living in San Diego, CA and then in Western Washington, but I have never been in the water with them. These particular sea lions don’t mind people at all, which is not the case in the other places where I have encountered them, so I’ve never been swimming with them before.

I couldn’t get over how effortlessly they moved through the water, like a ballet. You can’t tell me they weren’t having fun while they are swimming with us. Maybe it’s just me projecting my own understanding of what it’s like, but I swear they were having fun, all the while showing off their water ballet skills. Fascinating to observe.

 

 These guys were taking a nap.

The sea lions share this spot with lots of birds.

After a satisfying swim with these guys, we headed to an almost deserted beach for a lunch.

Put out the anchor, we’re going ashore!

There we are, all set up on the whitest beach I’ve ever seen.

Oh, not just any lunch. No. This was gourmet!

Ceviche and delicious burritos:

some with beans and cheese and some with beef, beans, and cheese.

I’ve had a lot of ceviche, but this was the best I’ve ever had. I think it was the mango and pineapple addition to the raw fish, chopped tomatoes, onions, and cilantro.

What would you like to drink?

Complete with tablecloth!

We spent about an hour wandering around on shore before packing everything back into the boat and heading back to the marina.

Blaze, me, and Greg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I can mark this off my bucket list. I swam with the whale sharks and enjoyed a beautiful day with all sorts of creatures and some of my favorite people. What could be better?

El Pescadero as seen from the highway

Our little piece of paradise where we live is all we need on most days. Pescadero is a fishing and farming community with lots of ex-pats of the American and Canadian persuasion.

Most of us foreigners live closer to the beach, but the Mexicans have the right idea. They live inland where the pueblo action is, and they can walk to just about anywhere they need or want to go. We, on the other hand, have great views and proximity to the ocean, but the salt air is eating our house.

Who knew it would be so rusty around here. (Apparently I’m not the only thing that is getting rusty.) Daily I probably sweep more sand out of my house and from our cement walkways than most people see in a year. Okay, that’s hyperbole, but we do more cleaning and maintenance here than we ever did on Whidbey Island. Whew!  Retirement is not supposed to include so much manual labor, is it? But for the most part, it’s worth it.

We get most of our produce from Fidel, who has a roadside stand in Pescadero. He’s the one in the sunglasses and stripped shirt. Fidel is a very cool guy and he knows his produce. I can pick out a cantaloupe and he will tell me when it will be ripe. He’s always right.

Our pup, Isabela, loves the sweet potatoes.

The farmers grow a lot of chili peppers and onions, but it is the basil that graces us with its heavenly scent. Hmmm. I’m walking on the beach in the morning and it wafts in from the nearby fields.

Can you smell it too?

This is Danito, one of our neighborhood farmers. His cherry tomatoes are to die for. He lets us have them for free. We get our eggs from his sister Bianca’s chickens.

Another one of our friends, Pepe, brought me a basil start about 6 weeks ago. I had to harvest my plant this morning. It did so well I made enough pesto to last us two years.

I used almonds instead of pine nuts, as I don’t have any pine nuts. I added lots of garlic and parmesan cheese to the blender with the basil, olive oil and almonds–presto pesto!

Here’s a dollop!

I cut a large roll in half lengthwise and slathered a heap of pesto onto it. Then I added tomato slices, avocado slices, and crowned all of that with cheese. Then I put the creation into the oven at 425 degrees F for 12 minutes. Oh my! So tasty. You ought to try it.

I would suggest some toasted sunflower seeds after the pesto, but I didn’t have any, so we had to do without. I know how good it is with them though, as my son and his wife made me this sandwich with sunflower seeds when I was visiting them in San Diego recently.

Stay tuned. I’ll have more pictures around El Pescadero soon. Thanks for stopping by.

 

As it turns out, baking a Red Velvet Cake in Baja presents a challenge for

Susie Homemaker.

The recipe calls for two cups of cake flour. Can’t find any around here or in Todos Santos. What is cake flour anyway? How does it differ from regular flour? I go to the best cookbook ever, The Joy of Cooking, for the answer.

 

Apparently, cake flour is made of soft wheats with less expansive gluten. It is not making me happy when I find out that the flour I have is in no way going to give me the results I’m after. But hey! You do what you can, so I followed the substitution directions to use one cup, minus 2 tablespoons of flour to equal one cup of the real thing.

There is no buttermilk to be found around here either. The substitution for this is to use milk and add vinegar to it. Okay, I’ve used this before with satisfactory results. It is clear I will not be working for perfection here. 3/4 cup of buttermilk coming up.

Oh no! The recipe calls for three tablespoons of Dutch processed cocoa and all I have is Hershey’s (that I brought from the USA). I’m three for three.

The rest of the ingredients are in my pantry or refrigerator, so I’m going to give this a go and make the best of it. It’s only a cake after all.

Ingredients:

3 medium beets

3/4 cup unsalted butter

juice of one lemon

2 tsp. of white vinegar

1-1/8 tsp. baking powder

1 tsp salt

1/2 tsp. baking soda

1-3/4 cup sugar

3 eggs

Rather than using a bottle of red food coloring (yuck), I am using three medium beets. Yep! That’s what I said. I roasted the beets yesterday and after they cooled, I peeled them and put them in the refrigerator.

Beats are tasty, but I never thought of putting them in a cake. They have a pretty earthy flavor. Wow! These guys (the beets) are super red. Deep purple—almost. This reminds me of a rock band from Great Britain back in the 70s. I can’t name any of their hits, but I remember the group—Deep Purple, and that they played hard rock.

I hope my cake isn’t hard as a rock.

This cake is a challenge for me here in Baja. I do not have all the key ingredients, or a food processor, and I don’t have any round cake pans (or any cake pans at all). I will be substituting square pans that aren’t even the same size as each other. And I’ll be using a blender instead of a food processor. Oh well.

I will call this a Deep Purple Substitute for a Red Velvet Cake. It is making me happy to merely “go with the flow” like this. It shows that I’m not a perfectionist, which, if you know me, is not news. I have been known to be picky about some things, but I am not seeking perfection in anything. In fact, the older I get the more I tolerate imperfection in my life. I like that saying, “It is what it is.”

Lest you start believing I am a Polly Anna, I want to set the record straight: I used to be a Polly Anna, but no more. I have seen what evil lurks in the hearts of men (and women), and I am a realist now, or as close to that as I can get. You might say I am a recovering Polly Anna.

Enough of that. Let’s whip up this (substitute) cake. First, wash your hands. Prepare the cake pans (or whatever you’re using) and preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Blend (because remember, I don’t have a food processor either) the beets, buttermilk (my substitute), juice of a lemon, vanilla, and (two more teaspoons) vinegar. Set this aside.

 

Sift the dry ingredients and the cocoa into another bowl. That means I’ll be using two ingredients in this part that are posing as the real things—reg. flour and Hershey’s cocoa. This also means there is yet another bowl to wash.

Beat the butter and sugar together and add the eggs one at a time, scraping the bowl between each addition of egg. This part is my favorite because it comes out so creamy and pretty. I like the sound of the beater fluffing everything up.

You start with a little of the dry ingredients in the mixer, then add a little of the beet mixture and lastly the fluffy part: eggs, butter and sugar. After alternating like this, adding a little of each, you end with the dry ingredients.

Once it is all mixed together, you pour half into each of your cake pans (my two square pans that aren’t the same size). I put parchment paper in the pans first and the cake will be easy to remove this way.

 

 

Lovingly place these into the preheated oven and bake for 20 + or – minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. I had to bake mine for 30 minutes.

 

These did not rise very well and the cake is spongy and dense, not crumbly, which is because I didn’t have cake flour I suppose. However, I am moving forward, letting the cake cool in the pans completely before frosting.

Cream cheese frosting is so decadent.

1/2 cup unsalted butter at room temp.

1 lb of cream cheese, also at room temp.

6 cups (I used 3) of powdered sugar (In Mexico they call it azucar glass.)

1 1/2 tsp vanilla–here I am proud to say I have the real thing.

Mexicans cook with real vainilla (Spanish spelling–pronounced vah ee nee’ ya) instead of that horrible bourbon vanilla from Costco I used when I lived in the States. Believe me, the difference is amazing.

After you cream the butter and cream cheese together, you add the vainilla and azucar glass. I used my mixer to do this and the icing is divine. Plenty of sugar even cut in half. Next time, however, I am going to use some lemon peel in it. I think it would be even better with the lemon flavor added.

 

 

My husband said that after all the trouble HE went through to get the powdered sugar (it isn’t easily found here), he wanted a piece of cake BEFORE dinner. Not a chance, Gregorio! You have to eat your dinner first: Shredded beef with horseradish sour cream, garlic mashers, cherry tomatoes, and picked beens and asparagus (thanks to our next door neighbor’s “Blaze’s pickled veggies.”) Not a tough thing for him to swallow, so he didn’t protest. I, however, do not eat meat, except fish, so I had left-over tequila lime sauce on fish, instead of beef. Yum. BTW, when you heat something with alcohol in it, you lose all the alcohol. Not to worry–I remain sober! (36 years in April)

*****

 

Here’s the cake with some pieces out of it. It’s pretty. It’s tasty, but I’m not as happy about it as I could be. It’s too dense (I relate) and I think it’s “the flour business,” plus the fact that I think I used too much of the blended beets. I was supposed to blend them first and measure out a cup. I didn’t do that. Shame on me. Because I just threw in all three medium beets with the rest of the liquid ingredients, I probably ended up with 2 cups of beets. That’s my guess. I also have a feeling that my baking powder is old. I bought it here in Mexico and it isn’t labeled with an expiration date that I can find.

 

It’s definitely not the worst cake in the world, but it’s not the greatest one either. Will I make it again? Probably, but not for awhile. Maybe I’ll make one for Mom when I visit her in San Diego for her 99th birthday. She was born March 16, 1916. Wow! It will make a nice birthday cake with all the correct ingredients, and I’ll measure the beets next time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me in my sombrero.

Beautiful sights around here. Morning, afternoon and night.

So many things to do and places to relax. (RELAXING IS MY JOB).

The day begins!

The moon is still showing its face.

We’re in the grey house on the right. So close to the Pacific Ocean! Yay!

Blaze, from Canada, lives in the orange house.

(He’s a great neighbor.)

Afternoon ride in Little Red! Whoopee!

Farmland, Desert, Ocean and San Pedrito Point

…on the way to Los Cerritos!

The waves at the point at Los Cerritos!

Little Red can make us high!

We know how.