signs your husband has a mexican girlfriend

Let's say that for years your husband has gone to Mexico to fish. He's got a little trailer and fishing boat down there and he'll be gone weeks, even months at a time. He loves to fish. He lives to fish. It's no big deal because you have a job you like and you like having the house to yourself. But then after a particularly long trip he comes home and...

1) His eyebrows, nose and ear hairs have been trimmed. Just last month his eyebrows rivaled Andy Rooney's from 60 Minutes. Surely you noticed they had been tamed. And that when you kissed, your lips were no longer tickled by his nose hairs. Or that when you whispered in his ear you didn't have to spend 15 minutes spitting out hair balls.

2) On his next trip home he speaks Spanish. And not just typical words us gringos throw in our normal conversations like, "excuse me, I'm going to the banos" but he'll use big words and nearly complete sentences. For instance, instead of asking if you'd like him to cook dinner for you tonight he'll say something like "quiere que mi cocine la cena esta noche....

3)...mi amor?" Mi amor! He's never called you "my love" in any language. If you missed signs one and two, surely this one should set off those alarms. If you even care. Because maybe you don't. Maybe you've got your own amor on the side. I, for one, hope you do.

lean on pete

Damn you, Willy, for making a grown woman cry. I mean, really, I'm used to your gritty down-on-your luck stories and songs but you've never made me cry. There I was, reading this book as I watched pelicans dive for fish and I've got tears running down my cheeks. I hoped no one would see me. Especially a Mexican or a Seri Indian because I'd have a hard time explaining those tears in Mexican.

I hated myself for rushing through this book. It was like sitting down and eating a whole box of Cheez-its when it's your last box or really wishing you would've made that bottle of Tangueray last a little longer. I didn't want the book to end but I was anxious to see how it ended. Please have a happy ending, I begged as I raced through the pages.

I was in Portland last year and I was planning on seeing you at Music Millenium because your band Richmond Fontaine had just released a new album. I had already seen Pete Dexter at Wordstock and so I couldn't believe my luck that within a matter of days I would meet two of my favorite writers. But you got sick and had to cancel the Music M show.

A friend of mine knows you, knows your girlfriend so maybe I'll get to meet you one of these days. In the meantime, I'll need some time to recuperate from "Lean on Pete." Too bad I drank all my gin.

we got us some pedophiles, too...

one for the girls and one for the boys.

We thought the one who likes little boys was kicked out after the parents called the police but I guess not. He's still here and he's still trolling. I saw him out on the pier watching the little boys fish. I felt my skin crawl. But because I was there, he left, taking his little dogs - the bait - with him. Next time he's here, maybe I'll follow him everywhere he goes, so he knows someone's watching.

The one who likes girls tells every new snowbird that shows up how all these rumors were flying about him and none of them were true. Except the problem is he's the one who told a happy hour gathering "you can't believe how quickly these girls will take off their clothes for a few pesos." When confronted by one of the lesbians he said all the girls are over 18 and sign consent forms. Oh yeah, right. He moved his rig to a back corner lot so he'd have more privacy but in the winter the frenchman pulls in right next door, so close that the pervert can't open his awning, so maybe that cramps his style a little bit. Maybe not.

The crazy ex-trucker lady says "american men living in mexico by themselves, they're all perverts or running from the law" and I'm beginning to think she's right. Or they're married and looking for a Mexican girlfriend.

kidnappers among us?

In the middle of the trailer park sits a smallish RV. It has no awning. No patio. Outside there's a pile of old toys including a rocking horse. There are plastic bottles and other junk scattered about. Most of the windows are covered in that silvery insulation stuff. Inside the motor coach - which had to be towed here from Hermosillo or some place because it doesn't run - lives a white anglo couple and their two Native American boys. Twins. Navajo or Apache, I can't really tell which. I see the mom out hanging laundry or walking into town for groceries. She wears the same dress everyday. The boys and dad might leave the RV once a day, usually around 5 o'clock to go to the beach. But not everyday and never any more than that.

The boys seem smart and are very polite. I don't think they're being abused unless you consider being kept inside a small RV all day with no school and no other kids their age, no socializing, abusive. I get the feeling the parents are hiding out. Why else would they be here? It's not as though they're here to teach their boys about the Mexican way of life or to give them a new experience.

So my theory - and believe me, I've always got theories about some gringo or other here - is that maybe this couple wanted to adopt those boys and the tribe wouldn't let them so they kidnapped them and took them to Mexico.

The question is, of course, if you suspect abuse or something like that, what would you do? It's that terrible dilemma of not wanting to be overly dramatic, imagining a scenario that doesn't exist, but on the other hand, speculating and doing nothing could lead to a couple of pretty fucked-up little boys.

I'm not sure what to do. I don't know the parents' names. They don't have a license plate I can track. So I just watch and hope those little boys will be okay. And that they don't have a family somewhere missing them.