The Rocinante of Rosarito



That’s me.

On a horse.

In Mexico.

If you’re imagining this as the cover of a romantic novel you’d find in the checkout line, stop. I’d like to be delusional and claim that the site of me topless on a beach would cause women to swoon, but after our model scout Tony didn’t mention a need for my patchy tan and slightly rounded features, I’ve accepted my fate as a normal guy. There is one good note though. I didn’t hear any shrieks from the women and children. Full disclosure: we pretty much had the beach to ourselves except for the wandering mariachi band which would’ve masked their screams.

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My Joys


I’ve seen my fair share of birthdays over the years. Family parties at Chuck E. Cheese, or the ball pit wonderland that was Leaps & Bounds, slowly progressed to closing down bars with friends in the city. But this year seems to mark a new era. Dare I say it, perhaps one of adulthood. After all, I was reminded that I have “a lot of gray hair.”

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