Good News: There is No International Morita Chile Alert

So, early Saturday morning, an hour or so before dawn, The Great Plotnik and the Great Ducknik were in a taxi hurtling down cobblestone streets in the colonial city of Puebla, Mexico, listening to the driver speak very knowledgeably in Spanish about the Boston Red Sox; a nap and a lousy Nick Cage movie later Plot was wondering if the customs agents at Stiletto City International really gave a dang about dried chilies (they didn't); and then only a little while after that all the Plotniks except BZWZ (who is in Cape Cod) were gathered around Mummy Plotnik's dining table eating a really delicious salsa Plottie put together with his smoked Morita chilies from the market in Etla, plus fresh epazote that he found in the Farmer's Market in Hollywood.



Mummy Plotnik had a great time on her 93rd, with friends and family calling her on the phone from all over the country. Baby Isabella did her Super Crawl over Mummy P's house and everyone watched, oohed, ahhed and then watched some more. Plottie turned on the Plotzer game to watch one awful inning and then turned it off.



A week is a nice time for a vacation, as long as you see more than one place. You don't get bored and there's enough time to hit the highlight reel. Oaxaca was fabulous for the dance festival...





...and Puebla just astonishing for the food.





Traveler's Bubble is gone and Plot could do with some rajas and hot corn tortillas this morning, but it's asiago cheese bagels with imitation milk and Hey Now, Hey Now, Don't Dream It's Over.