The Fourth

Scruple is a fun word to say. Scruple Scruple Scruple. It's hard to say fast. Makes your lips go all funny. Also, if you say it a lot you can find your own definition. "After touching the forbidden plant, Allison's arms broke out in angry red scruples." "Ah go scruple yourself." "The scruple lay under the rock, quietly awaiting its turn." Or perhaps a scruple is just a pupil learning how to use a screwdriver. Scruple.

However, I am not here to... WAIT! However. How Ever. What the heck does that mean? How is a method or a way and ever is short for forever. So a method forever? English is a very strange language.

What was I saying? I'm not here to talk about scruples. I'm here to talk about something else, something different, something that hasn't quite arrived yet. An idea perhaps, a concept, a formerly unrevealed bit of information that only I, the Monkeymind, am privy to. WAIT! Isn't a privy an outhouse? Yes, faithful reader, it is once again true, I am here to talk about NOTHING IN PARTICULAR.

And the first nothing was yesterday's Fourth of July fiesta. Well of course it rained. It is the rainy season after all. Nevertheless...never the less? (Don't get me started.) A good time was had by all except the wait staff who, if our tips were any indication, made out like Panamanian bandits. We got in two plus hours before la lluvia (that's rain in espanol but it sounds like a body part to me)came down in earnest and also on Earnest. By then I had had some cerveza and also some tequila and chatted with many gringos I knew and few I didn't. There was music emanating from somewhere on the wrap around patio and the gringos there were moving about in an odd fashion, herking and jerking and I wondered if perhaps the food was tainted. I was about to call for help when someone told me they were dancing. Astaire, Kelly, and even Travolta were rolling in their graves. Yeah,I know Travolta's still alive, but he has some peculiar late night habits. I was tempted to give a lesson or two but then I remembered that "guilty feet have got no rhythm" and I know my feet are guilty of something, so I eschewed that along with some potato salad. We got home early enough to sit on our patio and watch the rain while sipping a bit more tequila - well I did anyway, Woowoo Charly had a glass of vino and RTGFKAR had a vodka pineapple, oj concoction and we talked politics because it was, you know, the Fourth of July. Just after dark we heard, far in the distance, a firework. One.

Today, the fifth of Julio (I don't know how to say fifth in Spanish) is RTGFKAR's birthday, his cumpleanos. Happy Birthday RTGFKAR, feliz cumpleanos a ti, There will be more festivities.