“And if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast
it from thee: it is better for thee to enter into
life with one eye, rather than having two
eyes to be cast into hell fire.”
Matthew 18:9

You know a place is temporary when your neighbor owns a yippy dog.  I've done my best.  The church is fantastic, and I have new friends here in this dusty little town in the Baja, but I can't live next to a yippy dog.  In theory, I could.  But in practice, which last night meant being awakened twice, once at about 10pm and again around 2:45am,

I can't do it.  It's alright.  This place isn't worth saving.  Louie can't go out unattended; there are too many points of egress, and the other animals could be a problem.  The water goes off every night.  Thank God, it comes on again in the morning, but you can't rely on it.  But the dog has become an obstacle to my spirit.  After a couple hours, I lose my temper and start cursing.  That's unacceptable.  I repent and resolve in my spirit to control myself, and then that icepick sound starts again, the kind of sound that makes a car alarm sound like Mozart, and I lose it.  It doesn't work.  We have to leave.  Proverbs 10:22, it ain't.

“The blessing of the LORD, it maketh rich,
and he addeth no sorrow with it.”
Proverbs 10:22

If this place was worth staying in indefinitely, I'd consider having a conversation with the owner, whose dog it is, and who I like.  I like the town.  The church is the best family of believers I've seen in over 20 years.  The neighbors are great; the neighbor lady gave me chicken molé the other day, because her family couldn't eat it all.  They say in small towns everybody knows everybody's business.  Mexico is different.  They don't KNOW each other's business; they ARE each other's business.  It's interesting.  But I'm a foreigner.  An outsider.  A gringo.  This place is friendly, but I don't want to spend Christmas here anyway.  I want to go to La Paz, and take that ferry over the Sea of Cortez to Mazatlán, and all points beyond.  That was the idea for the American Migrant trip when we left Colorado in July.  I had hoped to be able to spend anywhere from 10 minutes to 10 years at any given point along the way, because why not.  We've done it, and will probably do it again, but it's time to head on down the line.

I am hungover from last night's aggravation, and have that guilt and spiritual weakness that makes it difficult to face the day.  All I did was use bad language in a meaningful way 20 or 30 times.  It's like getting drunk.  You have to quit.  Better to enter into a town called Peace maimed, than to live intact

In a dusty little shack in the Baja,

To be cast alive into hellfire.  God forgive me.

I am unworthy.

“For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;”
Romans 3:23

There's no drama and no rush, but I am planning to leave in about a week.  I can't leave without saying goodbye to the church.  I couldn't attend on Sunday, because I had a bad dog hangover from the night before.  I felt like an oily drunk.  It's a recurring problem.  It isn't going to go away.  So we must go away in its stead.

Please consider joining the American Migrant Patreon as a paid subscriber.  Free is also appreciated, but paid helps me and Louie The Road Cat stay alive.  The Patreon is going to become more active in the coming days, and most of the content will be paid-only.  It's going to be a spectacular trip.  600+ miles to La Paz, through the Baja, along the coast, the Sea of Cortez, the dolphins, the wishing boats, the street.  Join me, and let's reconquer the Americas for love and imagination.  Something that transcends nationality.  We need to spread the gospel of life, and we can't do that collecting dust in a pile of yippy ants.  Let's get to Heaven in one piece.  Cuz this place is tearing us apart.

Thank you in advance for your support.