Shiny Boobs!

I wonder if the artist realized that his sculpture would have well-polished boobs when people sat on the seat? It certainly stood out and probably makes more people sit on it. One of the many aspects of Mexico that I love is that art is available to all in the form of murals, architecture and sculpture. Puerto Vallarta has the most amazing collection of sculptures along the promenade. The views of the beach and mountains are spectacular alone but the art adds a quirky touch.

There is a thriving ceramic industry in the town and I particularly like the situation of this simple tile.

These tiles were on a simple building in the old town but added to the art.

Even the street signs were beautiful – this was the name of the street where I was staying at the Hacienda.
Inside the Plaza was a treasure trove of hand-made goods from embroidered clothes, locally made rugs and ceramics. I really do not need another ‘artifact’ in my house but it is still nice to browse, “Solo mirando”

There is something about this group of sculptured seats that just captures my imagination. They look like something out the movie Fifth Element and I could have looked at them all day. Art soothes the soul and the more accessible it is, the better.

Boobs, burgers and snarkiness

This post is a bit all over the place but let’s begin.  I went for a mammogram last week at the insistence of my new gynecologist who is determined to sort out my dodgy hoo-ha.  He has suggested that I take a genetic test to see what cancers might lurk in my future – not as much fun as the Ancestry genetic test.  He has put me on estrogen – top and bottom.  Y’alls know I live in Texas, the land of strange modesty, and when you go for a mammogram, the female nurses delicately slip off part of your robe and pull out each boob.  This time I said, “Look, I was brought up in Europe.  If you don’t mind I am just going to take off the robe and stand in my knickers”.  She laughed and said that in Sweden women just sit in the waiting room breasts akimbo.

She asked me why I was having a mammogram and said I was a little anxious about HRT.  Turned out she is on the same treatment as me and she told me that 98% of women, diagnosed with breast cancers, had not been on HRT.  That said, however, I bet many of them had been on the contraceptive pill.  Then she asked me about my ethnicity and was a tad surprised about the Native, North African and other exotic parts of my DNA.  She noted that I was slim and my skin was in good condition.  In her opinion, people’s eating habits in America had much to do with their health and I have to agree.  It shocks me to see queues of rich people waiting at McDonalds for their lunch (they have a choice).  I would no more eat a fast food burger than fly to the moon.  I do eat processed food from time to time but try to lean towards clean and organic food.  Perhaps there is a tad too much vodka in my life…I’m not perfect!

So…on Saturday I went out early to take some of my fancy dresses to a resale shop.  They only wanted one of them and gave me $4.55 for a dress worth close to $100.  On the way home I gave most of it to the fireman with the charity boot – what a waste of time but he was a handsome guy!   I called Teddy to ask him to get washed and dressed so that we could go out for lunch.  When I got home he was still in his pajamas.  Normally this would raise merry hell but the HRT has a curious calming effect.  FINALLY, after many baleful looks, we got on the road.  We went to a local foodie place that served a perfect lunch.  I had a delightful glass of Albarino from Spain – just faintly pink and dry, followed by a miniature appetizer.  It was four little chickpea fritters with two delicious salsas.  You could taste each individual flavor.  Teddy had a crab and avocado sandwich with micro cilantro (weird but lovely).  To finish we each had one scoop of yummy ice cream about the size of an egg.  That is a perfect portion for lunch unless you are a marathon runner.

I have a love/hate relationship with my cell phone and it drives Teddy crazy that I don’t answer his texts (all the more reason not to…)   He asked me if I had seen his text.  No, was the obvious answer but I got out my phone and looked at his text.  It had been sent from a new ‘dragon?’ app where he just speaks into the phone and it sends the text.  I texted, “Good for you, asswipe”, his face was a picture especially when the female computer voice nicely enunciated asswipe.  He then spoke into the phone saying, “I am not an asswipe” to which dragon lady responded, “I – am – not –an – asswipe”.  By this time I was really laughing but became hysterical when the phone auto-corrected his text to “I am not a Muslim”.  My laughter ricocheted from one end of the restaurant to the other.  As you know, I am not bigoted but just love those autocorrects.  I am just grateful that most people can’t understand our Celtic accents.

HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE!🐤🐰

PS   The mammogram showed that I have benign stuff (that’s a medical term) bilaterally. Don’t you panic when it says anything other than negative?

The HRT is turning me into a snarky teenager…