A nondescript Mexican restaurant provided dinner tonight, a cemetary provided half an hour's distraction, and a young cat named Hooey provided a soft patch of fur to run our hands through. With the sun threatening to drop off the end of the earth without us around to manage the event, we raced back to our hotel. Camera in hand, we made a beeline for the beach. The sort of beeline that a bee might make if it needed to go potty first, that is. The wind ... oh dear. As I write this, Katrina's trying to hangfromthecanopy framelike a female King Kong -- on a diet. Unsatisfied with her domination of the bed's upper regions, she furiously came at me with pillow in hand, slamming it with vigor into my chest, screaming and pulling her hair all the while. What HAVE I gotten myself into?
Upon reading the above, her only correction? I didn't capitalize Mexican. Easily fixed.
Upon reading the above, her only correction? I didn't capitalize Mexican. Easily fixed.
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