in which there are friendly whales... and not-so-friendly humans.

so... i'd kind of started to let myself get a teeny bit excited about the idea of possibly maybe doing this. i may have even gone so far as to contact the International Professional School of Bodywork, in San Diego, making inquiries as to the state of the winter/spring schedule. the idea being i fly out, take a class (and claim my airfare), see the zoo, and then drive down into Mexico to spend a few days on the lagoon, meeting the friendly whales who would naturally swarm my boat, drawn (no doubt) by my immense healing powers.

(work with me here.)

--

i floated this beginning-to-shine-brightly-if-only-in-my-head idea by my mother, who tried not to look completely horrified as she said "It's TOO dangerous to go there."

i sniffed, scoffed, and generally gave her the "I can go anywhere I please because everyone loves me" speech. secretly i continued, unabated, to dream of fondling whale snouts.

(i know that sounds a bit perverted. just play along.)

--

last night i called my friend Richard. the conversation went something like this:

me: "Am I correct in thinking you speak excellent Spanish?"
Richard: "I should. It was my first language."
me: "I thought so. Want to hear my scheme?"
Richard: "Oh, this is sounding good already. Tell me your scheme."

i proceed to detail how i'll pay his way to San Diego if he wants to go whale-watching with me and can afford to split gas and stuff the rest of the way, and be my translator. he responds by telling me he'd love to do that except for three things:

(a) it's too dangerous.

(b) really, it's too dangerous. he has family and friends there, and would love to see them, but it's too dangerous.

(c) "Look, I was all over Baja a few years ago. I was in that lagoon - and yeah, by the way, it's beautiful - and I went to this club and found out later that a couple weeks after I left some guy got into a fight with drug runners and his body was left in the desert..."

--

do you hear that sound?

that's the sound of a dream crashing. *wry grin*

in which there are toads and sunsets.

i had forgotten that there is something of a 'sweet spot' to evening riding, between the times at which the human and amphibian denizens of my housing development desire to utilize the roadway. i have finally re-identified the period of 7:15 PM to 7:45 PM as the period during which a person who is of the mind to ride a bicycle - very fast and no-handed - should be outdoors.

especially if they wish to be staring up at a particularly spectacular sunset (like tonight), and not down, so as to dodge suicidal toads (like last night).