For The Birds

This afternoon was massage time on the Ixtapa beach. Seven huts in a row stand a short distance from our complex, each one devoted to the art of massage which this afternoon was performed on Jack, Linda, and Carol.

I did not participate. As much as I value relaxation, I also like to retain a serviceable degree of tension sufficient for corporal cohesion. I watched these massage enthusiasts returning along the beach, jellied, humped over, and plodding on the sands like refugees from a boneless chicken ranch. Reportedly they feel invigorated and hope to be able to stand erect again by morning.

Speaking of chicken, below are photos taken by Carol while in the ministry in the *real* Mexico yesterday.

Speaking of birds, below is an artsy rendering of a blackbird by the pool.

These creatures descend from time to time to take a drink. A few times I've counted how many gulps they take to satisfy themselves. They averaged nine. I can easily understand how thirsty one must get steadily pumping the old wings through salty, sub-tropical, sea air, dressed in black.

Speaking of black, here is the scene from our balcony tonight ...