When I feel the urge to speak Spanish, I’ve decided to bark instead
It’s summer as I remember it. The days are long. The days are warm. I get more of a tan here than I do in Costa Rica (unless we’re at the beach of course). The colors burst every where from the trimmed grass to the drying towels on the beach chairs.
The only thing that’s a little odd is that I want to speak Spanish to people, especially in stores. I have become this cultural mutt. I could never breed Minnesota out of my blood. Much of what I do and who I am is rooted in the backyards and screen porches of my past. Sometimes I feel like speaking Spanish. Maybe I should think about barking instead - being the mutt that I am.
