Having traveled home to Bacalar (seven hour bus ride and 1.5 hour flight), from Oaxaca the day before Thanksgiving, I was in no mood. Thanksgiving takes work, planning, shopping and cooking. Even a potluck has its own tasks and cleanup. Bacalar is not Merida or Oaxaca with it’s large US immigrant population, enough for a restaurant to put on a high-priced, reservation only feast. So we stayed home. Lisa watched no football and I didn’t even think about the Macy’s Day parade, a childhood tradition. Just another day in paradise.
Goddesses in acrylic.
Mind you, I am NOT complaining. We are home bodies and not attached to a particular day to be grateful. I don’t need Christmas or a birthday to buy someone a gift, nor Valentine’s Day to express my love. Everyday is a treasure and I do my best to remember it.
Tiny watercolor and ink sketches.

The concrete block planter on my roof. My Thanksgiving activity.
Oaxaca was a blast. I learned to step into MY style of painting, listening to what the work is telling me. I was glad for the feedback as I am my own worst critic. The plan is to keep painting and be grateful for what it teaches me. What is your life teaching you?
DOS TORTAS















































We were robbed again this week. While we are certain of the culprit, there is little definite proof. We have increased the security with bars on my MIL’s house and two of our vulnerable windows. Sad, but necessary.











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