San Pancho Vida

Tracy Guadalupe, Episode 6: Escape from Ajijic

They were packing the limo. Tracy had seen this happen before. It usually meant that her housemates and jailers, Trubridge and Alfonse (or something like that) were leaving her to rot in the downstairs bedroom while they took their stupid dog to a dog show in Colima or possibly Ipanema. She was so not going to let this happen again.

While Alfonse was busy gathering the interminable paraphenalia that animal required, Tracy wiggled off the dresser and hid in a box of Cheerios and brown sugar that had been put there so the dog didn't eat it before it got put in the car. Frantically trying to depart before noon, Trubridge and Alfonse didn't even notice.

Ha! Time to blow this popsicle stand! Tracy thought. I am so going to find a new situation with more excitement and Possibilities for a Perfect Pink Princess like myself.

They drove for hours. When finally Tracy saw daylight again, she was being carried into a house.

Her heart sank: she knew this house! It belonged to Curly, that woman who was always making her take time-outs. And it was in San Podunk, that dull little town that prided itself on having a bunch of sand at the end of it.

What a bore!! Maybe she could catch a bus out of here or hitch a ride with a good-looking truck driver into civilization.

The second night there, she overheard a conversation that made her perk up: it was about charros! She loved charros. They were cowboys. They wore spangly jackets and tight pants and rode stallions. She was sure she could get one of them to rescue her from certain death by boredom. She did some pink primping and decided to bide her time.

Apparently these people had to cook something first. That's all they ever did, eat and take naps. Gawd, she needed a fling in the worst way.

What were they so excited about?

It turned to be a bunch of fried dough.

Barf and who cares? Eat it already and take me to my charro, Tracy thought. I need an opportunity for a quick getaway on the lap of a muscular bronco-buster.

Instead, they all trooped into the TV room and sat down to watch a movie which was not Pretty in Pink. And where were the charros?? Tracy would've screamed if she'd had a voicebox.

The next night, though, Curly came down the stairs in what appeared to be...dancing shoes! They had flowers on the toes and were kind of cute, really, although Tracy couldn't imagine why a woman her age thought she could still dance. Whatever. Maybe they were going out! That was the important thing. She needed to charm Alfonse into taking her along.

A few minutes later, they were seated at a big table at Maria's Restaurant, which was no nightclub but at least it had music and drinks.

Tracy sat on the sugar bowl and chatted with Alfonse, more or less, while gazing about for a more compelling companion.

Then the guitar player noticed her. She batted her eyelashes and showed him a little knee. Tracy loves musicians, especially handsome Latin ones. They have good hands.

She visited a bit with his musical partner, just to be civil and let her know who was really controlling the room.

Tracy condescended to dance a bit with Curly, who introduced her to Al and Zoe and told her that they play at Maria's every Friday night. Tracy never minds a bit of salsa dancing in ruffled hotpants, that's for sure.

Then, oh joy! All these people started paying attention to Tracy!

This was more like it. Kisses! Admiration! Appreciation!

It's about time, Tracy thought. Maybe she should hang in San Podunk for a while and see what developed. There were musicians, after all...and polo players...and cute young surfers...and that one plumber with the nice toolbox who nobody had introduced her to yet. How could any of them resist the charms of a pink vixen with lace hotpants and a lip stud? 

Not a bad idea, now that she thought about it.

Note from Candice: Tracy is going to stick around San Pancho, as it turns out. She may still be planning an escape to pinker pastures, but she'll be into who-knows-what over the next few weeks at least. Stay tuned for Episode 7. And if you have some catching up to do, you'll find links to Tracy's escapades (Episodes 1-5) below.

And below that, the photos I promised you of the art from the entreamigos auction!

The Adventures of Tracy Guadalupe

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

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Also, As Promised...

So I finally got to meet Rafi, whose fancy name is Rafael. He's already 5 1/2 months old and is both a hunk and a chunk. And a sweetheart.

I've known his sister Sadie Lee since she was ten weeks old when she flew on a plane to Seattle, my gift to my sister Denise. Allen did the research and had the connections that led to the litter, and helped me secure Sadie for Denise while he was in the USA picking up her bigger brother. So now Allen and Travis and I are related! Sort of.

Here are the puppies when they were babies:

 

Allyson says you can't refer to English bull terriers as "cute". I beg to disagree.

So, anyway, the day before I drove to Ajijic, Rafi had a little mishap of his own invention and ended up with a hairline fracture in his leg. The whole time I was there, the poor little fellow was confined to a big cage as he is not allowed to put weight on his leg for three weeks (one down, two to go...), thus cannot be cavorting around in his usual rambunctious way. He still gets lots of cuddling, but the truth is, he would rather be out and about.

Tracy Guadalupe has no sympathy whatsoever. She is sick to death of sharing the limelight with a dog, not to mention being entirely upstaged whenever he is around, which is always. She is not happy that the "portrait" I took of her with the withering Globos balloons has Rafi in the background. Not happy at all. She would have preferred a much closer zoom to show off her lip ring and her bustier.

She was only slightly mollified by the fact that Rafi's new splint is pink, and allowed me to take her down for a brief visit.

At first, Rafi was delighted to have a pink visitor. He went over for a chat. Naturally, Tracy monopolized the conversation and started going on and on about her obvious social and aesthetic superiorities to a mere mutt, after which she segued into some ideas about how he could run away from home and what might possibly happen to him if he didn't.

 

This is Rafi yelling, "Daaaaaaad!!"

xo

C

 

P.S. In case you've missed Tracy Guadalupe's continuing adventures, you may read them by clicking over there on "Archives" and scrolling down 'til you see her name. I'm warning you, though: she is a royal pain in the patootie.

Tracy Guadalupe, Part 5: The Heist!!

It’s time for the 5th Episode of the Adventures of Tracy Guadalupe, and you know what that means: those of you who have neglected to read episodes one through four are sooooo behind and need to catch the heck up immediately. Here are the links. Read ‘em. In order. Starting with #1. Then you can come back here.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 -- Vortex!

So, as I was saying, this being Episode #5 of Tracy Guadalupe, we are all familiar with the peccadilloes of our perky pink pal, are we not? You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But even I, who found her and rescued her from her garrison of boredom (Episode 1), who carefully chronicled her continuing adventures (Episodes 2, 3, and 4), even I  hadn’t the foggiest idea of how low our little pink mynx could sink.

It all started when I offered to give her a hiatus from what she called her “so-so-sleepytime” life in Ajijic with her friends and over-protectors, Truman and Alcott, and bring her to the beach for a visit.

Everything went fine at first, although she did natter a bit about being put inside the glass bookcase, even though it was dehumidified and all. I thought it was a good place for her, myself, out of trouble and nagging range, yet with a view of the sofas. Then Truman and Alcott arrived and sided with her, of course, so I had to move her out into open air. Personally, I felt this was a serious mistake, but three against one and all that.

Next thing I know, she’s wandering around the house whispering to the pets, no doubt to see whether she could entice them to misbehave. Fortunately, I have taken an advanced course in Clicker Training, so my pets do what they’re frigging told. They are especially good at “Stay!” 

Except for my sweet neighbor dogs, who are especially good at “Have a treat!”

So Tracy struck out there, which she totally hates.

She wandered around the house a bit, critiquing the decor, which needs more pink, in her less-than-humble opinion.

After that, she spent a little time watching polo (by which I mean the polo players in their tight-fitting knickers astride powerful muscled rhythmic beasts).

But she bores easily, as you know. I went into the kitchen to peel some mangoes, and when I came out only a few minutes later, I found her on the new side table nosing around the new Frida sculpture.

“Hold the phone, there, Tracy G,” I said. “What are you up to now?” I knew I should’ve left her in the bookcase. “That happens to be my new Frida Painting Frida piece, and you have no reason to be anywhere near it, as far as I can figure.”

She beamed up at me with her usual insouciance and said something about Frida being sooooo cliché and didn’t I know that she (meaning Tracy) was also a painter of much hipper subject matter? No, I said, I didn’t know that, nor am I inclined much to believe it.

And I gave her a time-out in the corner near the equipale chairs, several meters from the side table.

How long was it when I came out again to the terrazza? Maybe ten minutes, as I had only pulled the refrigerator out from its cove to try again to discover its filter which surely must be clogged as there is still neither ice nor water emitting from their assigned exits.

And there she was, the little pink pretender: sitting, paintbrush in hand, bragging about her "self-portrait"!

Now, first of all, that painting was created and sent to me by Dame Gretchen Goodliffe of Parts North, as you know if you read an October post entitled Make My Day.

(Which artist, by the way, is visiting Casa Luz de Luna for the very first time on this very day!)

So this was most obviously a case of Plagiarism in Pink.

And secondly...I can barely write this, as I am still in shock. Never mind, I'll just show you. Here is a cropped portion of a photo taken earlier the same day:

How many paintbrushes do you see?

And here is a photo taken after Tracy Guadalupe departed, buckled into the back seat of one white CRV piloted by the aforementioned Alcott and co-piloted by his partner (in crime??) Truman:

Now how many paintbrushes do you see?? One, that's how many, which is one less than came with the Frida sculpture! 

You see what I'm getting at, I'm sure. This is obviously a case of The Pilfered Paintbrush, and I just have to wonder how Alcott could have settled Miss G into the back seat of the CRV without noticing the paintbrush still grasped in her greedy little pink paw! But then, she's always been good at wrapping him around her chubby and manicured fingers, hasn't she?

Can you say "accessory"? Can you say "accomplice"??

Truman, it appears, is innocent after all, as he willingly provided this evidentiary photo taken after they had all arrived back in Ajijic:

What do you see in her right hand? Something familiar? Something heisted??

I publish this post as a community service, really. Just to give you a heads-up in case a certain fuschia señorita should arrive on your doorstep one day. Keep an eye on her, that's my advice. She seems to have a superiority complex that knows no bounds.

                                        Photo taken while Tracy wasn't looking by Franny B.

Just a heads-up, that's all I'm saying.

 

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The Adventures of Tracy Guadalupe, Part 4: Vortex!

"My castle, at last!" Tracy Guadalupe whispered ecstatically, peeking out of the big blue shopping bag she'd been drowsing in since they'd driven away from Ajijic an hour ago. "Or are we in Disneyland's Magic Kingdom?"

Trevor and Aldrich and the frizzy haired lady, on whose shoulder Tracy's conveyance hung, entered a gate with a big spooky eyeball on it and paid a few pesos for tickets.

What is this Foco Tonal? Tracy wondered. Some sort of ride?

Her companions were speaking quietly as they approached an area with pretty colored posts, including a pink one, arranged around a patio of some kind. Maybe they were going to a barbecue.

They took off their shoes. Weird. Tracy wasn't going to take off her go-go boots, that's for sure. Turns out she didn't have to. They left her near a bench -- in the bag! 

She could hear them, though. They seemed to be quite surprised at what was happening in the circle. They took turns standing inside a star and speaking. Apparently there was some sort of phenomenon, a reverberation, that could only be felt and heard in the very center of the star in the very center of the circle.

They took their time, that's for sure. She heard them talking about an energy vortex, whatever that is. One by one, they stood alone in the star and experienced the energy there, maybe making wishes or saying prayers or some such thing. She didn't know. Whatever.

Finally, they remembered her, and it was about time. She wanted her turn in that vortex. But they didn't take her there.

Instead, Curly removed her from the bag and told her they were going to visit a garden where the dwarves live! There were little houses, just Tracy's size, and toys and candy scattered about and a slide!

Tracy left some candy kisses and lollipops. She didn't see any dwarves, though. Maybe it was their nap time.

They carried her back toward the castle. It was soooo pretty, but closed to the public. Tracy wondered how that affected her, exactly, as she was hardly "the public", but she still couldn't go inside. At least she got a photo with it so she could show her architect some day. 

Fortunately, a couple of cute stone masons spotted her and invited her over for a visit.

It was time to go. Tracy felt a bit disappointed in this field trip, what with staying in the bag and not seeing little people and not getting to live in the castle.

She dozed again on the way back to Ajijic, having had her fill of cornfields and roadside villages.

Then, miraculously, as they drove into Ajijic, Trevor turned into the Walmart parking lot. And there it was! A vortex made especially for her!

A shopping vortex!

Tracy sat in the middle of it and absorbed a whole bunch of shopping energy, her favorite kind.

(After which she had a nice flirtation with the guys who wash cars in the parking lot.) 

So there, thought Tracy. There are vortices and there are vortices. She'd take her kind, thank you very much.

                                                    The End...

...except for An article about Foco Tonal, if you want to know more

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Speaking of shopping energy...I'm in Tonala as I write this, picking up a few little things for the casa. I'll be in San Pancho in a few days and will have updates galore in next week's blog. Don't forget to stop by. Have a magical week!

Make My Day

You don't even want to know how wacky my week has been.

One clue: as of this moment, I have packed 42 boxes with a total weight of 1002 pounds. I know this for a fact because I am lifting each one of them in order to get an accurate weight on the bathroom scale, which means, of course, I have to subtract my own weight. So this process takes muscle and subtraction.

Am I pooped? I feel like The Little Engine That Could, on the uphill climb.

Do I have time to write a post this week? I do not.

Fortunately, I received a package in the mail yesterday, unexpected and mysterious. I had one weensy hint when the mailman wouldn't leave it the day before without my signature. It apparently was from Canada.

I signed the little square of post office green paper and clipped it to the lattice near the mail slot. My mailman, who has been my mailman for 15 years, knew I would, and brought the package the very next day, taking it on faith that the little green paper would be there all checkmarked and signatured and eager.

When I arrived home from running nearly as many errands as there are agave plants in Jalisco, I was wiped out, frazzled, and still hadn't crossed off even half the items from my daily to-do list. I began unloading the car, which would take five trips at least. Juggling packages, I took the keys out of my mouth with a hand already striped red from plastic bag loops.

I kicked open the gate...and there was the package, waiting for me, on the fence ledge.

I dropped everything quick on the kitchen floor and went back out and got it. Squinting because I didn't have my glasses on, I saw that the package was from Gretchen (!) whose name you have seen in blog comments since Day 1. What in the world would Gretchen be sending me? I wondered. 

It took quite a while to open the package. Gretchen wraps like my sister: why leave any paper exposed to air when you can cover it with tape? And there were creative layers of protection made from cut-up chicken boxes: apparently Gretchen wanted this item to arrive safe and undamaged, even though it had to cross a border. 

Finally, I managed to reveal the contents. Like magic, my tiredness evaporated. I began to laugh and dance around the kitchen, ending up at my laptop where I immediately sent Gretchen an email studded with exclamation points.

Here is her gift. Thank you, GG. Let me just say, you made my day.

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I am thrilled and tickled pink. Your painting is magnificent. It will have a special spot in the new casa, as it does in my heart.

Of course, if You Know Who ever visits, she will expect it to be at the Center of Attention, along with herself. Perhaps she might even expect an unveiling party.

In which case, the artist will be the guest of honor.

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(If you're new to San Pancho Vida, I refer you to The Adventures of Tracy Guadalupe -- Parts 1, 2, and 3...so far.)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

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Next week will be another very quick one, no doubt, as I will have just landed in the general vicinity of Ajijic, where perhaps we will have the opportunity to add a Part 4.