Road Trip

There's a guy in Volcan who buys containers of stuff from the U.S. sight unseen at apparently bargain prices, because he then sells what he's purchased dirt cheap. Of course it's not always easy to move experimental products like calcium supplements in the form of fudge or thousands of cans of chile, but I guess there's profit in it because he's been doing it for a long time. Yesterday I picked up a couple of boxes of Tylenol PM for $2.50 each. On a pharmacy shelf they'd retail for ten bucks or more. Nice.

But it's not my job to chronicle the mundane doings of we ancient gringoes as we trek through life here on planet paradise even if you, the readers, might find that an informative, interesting, intelligent and other words starting with "in" thing to do. No, it is my job to access the deeper more meaningful truths hidden in my dreams and, also, what my dog has been doing lately. To that end I can tell you that last night in the coma we call sleep there was something about a lion and later, wolves.
I woke myself up kicking at the wolves. Fortunately, there was Tylenol PM on hand and I quickly returned to sleep. Wolfless sleep. As for my dog, he stayed home and pouted as we, Sam, Judy, Bonnie, RTGFKAR, Woowoo Charly and me, the designated driver, downed plate after plate of Thai food at a restaurant in Volcan owned and operated, by a guy named Paul from Hollywood, Calif whose arms were, ah, beneedled with colorful tattoos and who, after cooking for us and waiting on us, showed most of the group around his carnivorous plant garden. "I'm a big green monster from outer space and I'm bad." Sam and I waited afuera. Gus moved from the bed to the livingroom carpet and back a couple of times before finally turning in a full circle and plopping down by our glass doors to watch his pal, a nameless very old girl dog
who hangs around our house because I give her dog cookies from time to time, while we the gringos I'm not writing about, stopped in this place and the other place before ending up in a plant emporium that was closed. Along the way we had stopped at a store that sold cheese in the town of Bambito and drove right through the metropolis of Bugaba whose residents are called bugabenos. That's pronounced boo-gah-bane-yos. I like saying that, boogahbaneyos. We also motored through a pueblo called Concepcion which had lots of babies and two pizza joints. I don't know if there's a connection. Gus was sleeping as we did this. He was next to awake from his own dreamland where something to do with chasing was going on when we pulled up the drive. He was thrilled to see us if a bit cross about our being gone so long. A juicy bone later though and all was forgiven.

So there you have it, dreams and dogs. Much more fun than writing about people.