My Love/Hate Relationship With the Wind

The wind at my back pushes me up mountains.

The wind in my face makes me feel like I’m going up a mountain.

The wind’s breeze cools me on hot days.

The wind’s sting chills me on cold days.

The wind dries me off after a rain storm.

The wind freezes me to the bone during a rain storm.

The wind’s strong gusts at my back boost me forward.

The wind’s strong gusts at my side throw me off balance.

The wind’s breeze keeps me cool during an uphill climb.

The wind rushing past makes me cold during a downhill descent.

The wind keeps the flies away.

The wind throws dust in my face.

The wind in the late afternoon cools me down after a long day’s cycle.

The wind in the morning makes me cold as I prepare for a long day’s cycle.

The wind dries my wet tent.

The wind makes it hard to setup my tent.

Do I like the wind now?

No.

But ask me again sometime.

Lazy Mexicans

It’s nearly 2:00pm on a Tuesday afternoon somewhere in Baja California Sur and two Mexicans walk over to the local mini-mart. One takes a seat out front while the other goes in and greets the shopkeeper who’s hiding inside his shop somewhere. The Mexican emerges with two bottles of beer and goes over to take his seat next to the other Mexican. They both pop the caps and start slowly sipping their beers while staring out at the empty road in front of them. Time passes, perhaps twenty minutes, and their bottles become empty. One gets up with the two empty bottles in hand and goes back into the shop. The Mexican emerges once again with two bottles of beer and goes over to take his seat next to the other Mexican. Again they sit and sip their beers while staring out at the empty road in front of them. Time slowly passes, perhaps thirty minutes this time, and their bottles once again become empty. Once again the Mexican gets up with the two empty beer bottles in hand and reenters the shop. Yet again he emerges with two bottles of beer and goes over to take his seat next to the other Mexican. Yet again they sit and sip their beers while staring out at the empty road in front of them. Time slowly passes, perhaps twenty-five minutes this time, and their bottles yet again become empty. The Mexican gets up with the two empty beer bottles in hand and reenters the shop. This time he emerges empty handed, but still takes his seat next to the other Mexican. They sit silently staring at the empty road in front of them. Eventually one takes out his watch and looks at it for some time while the other fiddles with his bottle cap. Perhaps ten minutes pass this time and they finally get up and head back across the road to resume their work.

Lazy Mexicans.

Here I still sit taking refuge from the blazing afternoon sun silently staring at two empty chairs.

Lazy Canadian.