I knew returning from Baja would be like flying at 100 mph and slamming into a tree. Even though I could see it coming, there was no way to prepare but to brace for impact. I’ve had a bad case of the “Baja Blahs.”
For three days, I’ve been sitting in the Viejas Casino parking lot. I managed to move a whole 18 miles from Margie’s driveway, which was as far as I could muster. Sitting here like a wounded bird lying on the pavement, unable to move my wings, Continue reading