One of our fellow bloggers has written “Three Things that Bring Me Joy“ while another used Georgia Heard for inspiration, writing ten observations without judgment. In this nod to them both, let’s see where I wind up, somewhere between three and ten; somewhere between joy and impartiality.

Once aboard and preparing for departure, the captain comes on to announce, “This isn’t Oregon; this isn’t anything your cousin said; this isn’t my imagination. If you’re on this aircraft en route to Cabo, then you’re wearing your mask.” I have not seen any squabbles or overt rebellion on the part of passengers. And I am judging when I read his tone and delivery as friend-to-friend, not dictatorial power-wielding. My husband and I turn to each other, now such competent eye-talkers after two years speaking and listening, and twinkle. Humor helps, doesn’t it?

The plaza is lively this Monday night. Couples, families, bikes, skateboards, bordered by vendors sitting in the breezy Mexican evening air. Overhead the moon, waxing, its belly hanging low, pregnant with light. Delivery of a full face on Thursday.

On the plaza stage, a rehearsal is underway. Young women spread their arms and golden fabric forms shiny wings in the twilight as they spin and prance in unison. At any moment, they might take flight.

Who should cross the plaza but a policeman. This one carries a trumpet and looks over his shoulder. A group of teens follows bearing drums. Where are they going? To the stage. Why? Cinco de Mayo is a ways away. What I think? All policemen should carry trumpets!

Roosters, roosters, they are roosters calling the day into being here in San Juan del Cabo. Sunlight rims the curtains, urging us awake. And so our first full day south of the border begins.

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