I’ve had chocolate and strawberry pancakes (with whipped cream!) at the Case de los Pancakes. (Now open in Berkeley!) I’ve bobbed like a cork in the surf of the warm Pacific. I’ve finished another novel – “A case of exploding mangoes” by Hanif Mohammed. The sky is alternating between a clear cerulean and cerulean pocked with pearl gray clouds. Not rain clouds – just high flat pearly clouds that don’t really make it any cooler, but somehow manage to increase the glare. Shmoopy is asleep (I think) down by the hotel pool. I’m enjoying the wireless internet here in the hotel to sate my curiousity about the election campaign.
I have that giddy feeling you get when you’re eight years old and expect big things for Christmas. The best part right now are the Youtube clips of the FoxNews people becoming more and more apoplectic. They are actually spitting as they read their news scripts. It’s as if Rupert Murdoch sent out a memo last week telling them there would be no bonuses if Obama is elected.
It’s still no sure bet. Anything can happen in the next week. And polls are only statistics. Polls don’t win an election – voters do. So, I will be scanning the news and biting my nailstubs all the way until Tuesday night, and beyond if the election machinery goes awry.
In the meantime I am going to knock back another cerveza and limon. Here in Pta. V. the big decisions are where to eat and where to spread the beach towel.
And – what sunscreen or suntan oil to use! Below is, no joke, the beachfront Suntan Coach offering advice to someone who looks like he may have already won an old George Hamilton Invitational. I think the tank on his back is Mystic Tan in case you have only a few days. He has an apprentice with him, who was too shy for the picture.