Not a lot happening here in the tranquil tropics. I run, I read, I walk, I write. The acquaintances I made over the previous few weeks have drifted away: either back to their homes in other places, or just...away. In general, I think that's the nature of a nomadic existence. People come and people go. Much like myself: I arrived a month ago, and I don't know where I'll be in another month. I will be here until at least mid March, because both loin-fruit are traveling south for a visit. Can't wait!
We're going to spend a few days in a rainforest reserve (Gamboa), before closing out the visit chilling here with beach, pool, and low stress living. Certainly not glamorous or anything like the south Florida spring breaks that were the subject of a fair number of movies in my collegiate days.
I've been window shopping on the dating apps a fair amount since I've been here. Window shopping meaning I'm looking, but with no intention to buy. The few times I've had a match, I've yet to meet the person. All except one have ghosted and unmatched. Whatevs. In the one instance that I wasn't ghosted, the universe has decided that we are not to meet. The first time we arranged, an accident on the one road created a two hour delay. Coupled with a late start, and that one went to hell. She turned back.
We made tentative arrangements for another try. That is on an indefinite hold, as she is a humanitarian aid worker for the UN, and got travel orders to Kyiv, leaving this week. Her return ticket is for the end of March. First off, Kyiv?! Scary thought to go. Second off, I don't know if I'll be here at the end of March, so, maybe that one's down the tubes.
I have met and chatted with an Australian woman who has a significant resemblance to Nicole Kidman. We've crossed paths on the beach a few times, but I'm not sure that has any legs, though she does.
I developed a route to run that includes two Strava segments, and a stop by Clyde's Pond. Clyde is the name I've given to the caiman I've seen several times in the pond. Alliteration for the win. Anyway, the first time I ran the route, it measured 6.66 miles. I thought that was interesting. Given the vagaries of GPS, I didn't think a lot of it, because the next time I run it, it'll be longer or shorter by probably a few percent. Especially since I hang at Clyde's for a bit to see what I can see, and often times, GPS will add a "jitter" distance while I'm standing still.
However, in the three times since that initial run, my distance has been 6.66, 6.68, and 6.66. Huh. Pretty consistent measurement. Maybe the tech is eliminating the errors. I now call the route Runnin' With the Devil, and I hear Van Halen in my head when I'm jumping through the surf into the sea at the end of the run.
In regard to the writing, I've been working on a story I started a while back and shelved for a couple of years. It's been nice to flex the imagination muscles in my brain. Here is a link to read the first few thousand words.
As Daffy Duck infamously stuttered, That's All Folks!
We're going to spend a few days in a rainforest reserve (Gamboa), before closing out the visit chilling here with beach, pool, and low stress living. Certainly not glamorous or anything like the south Florida spring breaks that were the subject of a fair number of movies in my collegiate days.
I've been window shopping on the dating apps a fair amount since I've been here. Window shopping meaning I'm looking, but with no intention to buy. The few times I've had a match, I've yet to meet the person. All except one have ghosted and unmatched. Whatevs. In the one instance that I wasn't ghosted, the universe has decided that we are not to meet. The first time we arranged, an accident on the one road created a two hour delay. Coupled with a late start, and that one went to hell. She turned back.
We made tentative arrangements for another try. That is on an indefinite hold, as she is a humanitarian aid worker for the UN, and got travel orders to Kyiv, leaving this week. Her return ticket is for the end of March. First off, Kyiv?! Scary thought to go. Second off, I don't know if I'll be here at the end of March, so, maybe that one's down the tubes.
I have met and chatted with an Australian woman who has a significant resemblance to Nicole Kidman. We've crossed paths on the beach a few times, but I'm not sure that has any legs, though she does.
I developed a route to run that includes two Strava segments, and a stop by Clyde's Pond. Clyde is the name I've given to the caiman I've seen several times in the pond. Alliteration for the win. Anyway, the first time I ran the route, it measured 6.66 miles. I thought that was interesting. Given the vagaries of GPS, I didn't think a lot of it, because the next time I run it, it'll be longer or shorter by probably a few percent. Especially since I hang at Clyde's for a bit to see what I can see, and often times, GPS will add a "jitter" distance while I'm standing still.
However, in the three times since that initial run, my distance has been 6.66, 6.68, and 6.66. Huh. Pretty consistent measurement. Maybe the tech is eliminating the errors. I now call the route Runnin' With the Devil, and I hear Van Halen in my head when I'm jumping through the surf into the sea at the end of the run.
In regard to the writing, I've been working on a story I started a while back and shelved for a couple of years. It's been nice to flex the imagination muscles in my brain. Here is a link to read the first few thousand words.
As Daffy Duck infamously stuttered, That's All Folks!
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