There's a bee buzzing outside my window. I can't see it, as I have the curtains pulled against the sun and the neighbors alike, but it sounds like summer to me.

I am just returned from El Paso, a hot place stuck in the middle of the desert for no reason I could see. All anyone from California could think while we were there was, "Why would anyone move to El Paso?" I'm sure it has some redeeming features, but they are not readily apparent to the casual traveller. Another time of the year, I would have liked to have stayed, perhaps, and tried to understand why people live in deserts like that. But with only one full day there, and two others mostly taken up with travelling, there wasn't time to acclimate, so we didn't try. Stayed inside most of the time, going outside only long enough to remind ourselves of why we didn't want to go outside.

Scorpions. I've never been anywhere where there were scorpions (or at least I didn't know about it). I was warned about them possibly being in house. I didn't sleep well either night I was there.

Have you ever had a conversation with someone who liked to make points, but stated them in such a way that you weren't sure what reaction was expected? What do you do then? They have paused, apparently waiting for you to say something, but you don't care, or you didn't understand, and you have absolutely nothing to say. I just said nothing. I guess they get that a lot, because it didn't stop them from continuing on to make their point about their point.

Oh, and Mexico. I have never been near a border, either on the north or the south of our country. I was unprepared, then, for the disparity I witnessed between one side of highway 10, with UTEP and track housing, and the shanties and unpaved roads on the other side. Separated by a freeway, that two such different worlds could coexist boggles the mind. It's good to remember that most of the world is not as fortunate as we are.