En Todos las playas en todo el mundo

This always happens when I come to a beach. I consider a number so large that I cannot conceive of it. Yup, it is the sand that does it.

No wait! Stay with me. It is a little exercise for the mind. Move your mind from the beach to the universe. Still with me? Now, scientists have estimated -- postulated, roughed out, even SWAGed (that is a scientific wild-assed guess) -- that the number of stars in the universe is roughly equal to all the grains of sand in all the beaches in all the world.

I can't count the number of grains in my hand. I can't conceive of the numberof grains on this beach within my view. My mind hiccups when I try to think about all the beaches in all the world.

Carl Sagan called this number a googleplex (I think) and it was a number so large that it confound any attempt to consider it.

Well that is the universe we live in. And we think we are so smart.

Please think of this when you go to the beach.

Los Tres Vagabundos in Mexico, Tom, Kathy & PeeVee

Pollo Muerto

What are we going to eat? An old comic reply: “Dead chicken”. Then, the chicken somehow loses some off its taste appeal. But, here in the Mexican town of Puerto Penasco, we believe the lowly bird died for a good cause. Here they do wondrous things with dead chicken.

It is called Pollo al carbon, a type of roasted chicken, but not cooked with any type of flame. It must be roasted on a wood fire. And then there is the seasoning…. My Spanish is not good enough to discover much of it, but I know the marinade is chiefly orange juice.

We have recently returned from the chicken joint on Calle Benito Juarez and we need a nap. We are likely going to skip supper tonight and go directly to the hot tub where we will watch the sun sink into the sea.

I am really disappointed in myself, but my attention seems to have slid toward gluttony and other pleasures of the flesh. Already we have planned breakfast. Awakening slowly in The Minnow to the sound of the waves, we will lightly pan fry in butter some huge, fresh local scrimp, some asparagus, and a few new potatoes. Yes, that is breakfast, or perhaps we should call it brunch.

We promise to do better….in a day or so. Meanwhile, every day here on the beach is an awful struggle.

Los Tres Vagabundos gordos

Pollo Muerto

What are we going to eat? An old comic reply: “Dead chicken”. Then, the chicken somehow loses some off its taste appeal. But, here in the Mexican town of Puerto Penasco, we believe the lowly bird died for a good cause. Here they do wondrous things with dead chicken.

It is called Pollo al carbon, a type of roasted chicken, but not cooked with any type of flame. It must be roasted on a wood fire. And then there is the seasoning…. My Spanish is not good enough to discover much of it, but I know the marinade is chiefly orange juice.

We have recently returned from the chicken joint on Calle Benito Juarez and we need a nap. We are likely going to skip supper tonight and go directly to the hot tub where we will watch the sun sink into the sea.

I am really disappointed in myself, but my attention seems to have slid toward gluttony and other pleasures of the flesh. Already we have planned breakfast. Awakening slowly in The Minnow to the sound of the waves, we will lightly pan fry in butter some huge, fresh local scrimp, some asparagus, and a few new potatoes. Yes, that is breakfast, or perhaps we should call it brunch.

We promise to do better….in a day or so. Meanwhile, every day here on the beach is an awful struggle.

Los Tres Vagabundos gordos

Pollo Muerto

What are we going to eat? An old comic reply: “Dead chicken”. Then, the chicken somehow loses some off its taste appeal. But, here in the Mexican town of Puerto Penasco, we believe the lowly bird died for a good cause. Here they do wondrous things with dead chicken.

It is called Pollo al carbon, a type of roasted chicken, but not cooked with any type of flame. It must be roasted on a wood fire. And then there is the seasoning…. My Spanish is not good enough to discover much of it, but I know the marinade is chiefly orange juice.

We have recently returned from the chicken joint on Calle Benito Juarez and we need a nap. We are likely going to skip supper tonight and go directly to the hot tub where we will watch the sun sink into the sea.

I am really disappointed in myself, but my attention seems to have slid toward gluttony and other pleasures of the flesh. Already we have planned breakfast. Awakening slowly in The Minnow to the sound of the waves, we will lightly pan fry in butter some huge, fresh local scrimp, some asparagus, and a few new potatoes. Yes, that is breakfast, or perhaps we should call it brunch.

We promise to do better….in a day or so. Meanwhile, every day here on the beach is an awful struggle.

Los Tres Vagabundos gordos

Pollo Muerto

What are we going to eat? An old comic reply: “Dead chicken”. Then, the chicken somehow loses some off its taste appeal. But, here in the Mexican town of Puerto Penasco, we believe the lowly bird died for a good cause. Here they do wondrous things with dead chicken.

It is called Pollo al carbon, a type of roasted chicken, but not cooked with any type of flame. It must be roasted on a wood fire. And then there is the seasoning…. My Spanish is not good enough to discover much of it, but I know the marinade is chiefly orange juice.

We have recently returned from the chicken joint on Calle Benito Juarez and we need a nap. We are likely going to skip supper tonight and go directly to the hot tub where we will watch the sun sink into the sea.

I am really disappointed in myself, but my attention seems to have slid toward gluttony and other pleasures of the flesh. Already we have planned breakfast. Awakening slowly in The Minnow to the sound of the waves, we will lightly pan fry in butter some huge, fresh local scrimp, some asparagus, and a few new potatoes. Yes, that is breakfast, or perhaps we should call it brunch.

We promise to do better….in a day or so. Meanwhile, every day here on the beach is an awful struggle.

Los Tres Vagabundos gordos

En la playa

"El Peccecillo" esta en la playa del Mar de Cortez, Sonora, Mexico. Hey boy, this is the life. We have "The Minnow" nestled into a lovely spot right on the beach. The surf lulls us to sleep at night and awakens us in the morning. I have a picture for you but forgot to bring the photo card with me to the wifi spot.

Aqui quiremos muchos mariscos. Already this morning, without leaving the Minnow, we have purchased a pound of the largest scrimp you ever saw. Camarones mas grande. (Ok, so I can't spell in spanish either.) Our mouths are watering.

We plan to reopen Rock Eddy Bluff Farm on March 1 in time to enjoy a wonderful Ozark spring. But right now we are beach bums in Mexico. The pervasive fear of Mexico by Americanos has hit this place hard. We were here a year ago and find, this year, that the number of turistas is down be more than half.

I must tell you this: The temperatures are in the 70's --maybe low 80's in the day and then cool off with the sinking of the sun to perhaps the mid-to-high 40's. We have our nests made in The Minnow and snuggle down into our sleeping bags.

We have come back here for the beach, the seafood, the scenery and also for pollo al carbon (wood fire cooked chicken) It is nothing like pollo asada. This is stuff your mouth will remember. It is found in a little cabana somewhere in town, if we can find it again.

Hope we have made you snowbound folks sufficiently envious. Rest assured that some serious relaxing will occur here in Puerto Penasco. If I can shake myself loose I will send photos next.

We will see many of you in the spring at the Bluff.

Los Vagabundos del Mar, Tom, Kathy, and PeeVee