I've almost cleared the 1000-kilometre mark, and about 300km of that I did today, driving UP and DOWN and all over the central and northern coast, so that after the eighth cute plaza with a little (or big) old church and pretty painted arcades, I was a little dazed.
Tag: live poultry
At the live poultry store 1
Hello, ducks–will you be my dinner?
At the live poultry store 2
Weighing the bird–six pounds is perfect.
At the live poultry store 3
Off you go to the back room…
Duck, duck, grease
Last night was Sunday and Peter's birthday--a double call for dinner. Tamara's sharp invitation to dinner at Peter's new apartment (housewarming too: make that a triple call for dinner) reminded us it was his Jesus year, and that the birthday boy should be affectionately referred to as "you fucking fag."
Why choose?
Not exactly live poultry, but good enough.
This, along with many other miniature store renderings, was in the "museum" at the glitzy Xcaret eco-park south of Playa del Carmen.
Live Poultry
I'm getting a little worried about myself. All this bluster about fresh-killed meat, but this weekend I was dealing with a few chickens from the petting zoo and felt a small twinge of nausea.
Reader, I did not marry him.
Last week I'm on the Chinatown bus from DC to NYC, and this guy starts chatting me up. My flimsy magazine is not barrier enough to conversation.