the family trap

Yesterday, I re-baited the "move the family to Mexico" trap.

My first ploy -- the giant casa narco -- was bought before I could use it as a lure.  (wooing the family)  A great family compound for my mother, brother, his wife, and me.

But it was gone before I could return.  Having failed with my royal flush, I decided to try for an inside straight.

During this blog's great house hunt contest, the house that came in second -- but well behind "stay where you are" -- was casa mia.  (casa mia -- candidate number 3)  A well-designed 2-bedroom beach house with as little pretension as its neighborhood.

Darrel had walked through the place four years ago.  He still likes it.

For Mom, it was a first-time visit.  Well, almost.  Like the rest of you, she had read about it and seen enough photographs that she knew what to expect.

I am still a bit ambivalent about buying property -- anywhere.  Even with bedroom air conditioning, the summers are a bit fitful here.  And I am not certain I am ready to live wall-to-wall with my neighbors.

And, of course, there is the recently-learned lesson that houses are merely Stuff magnets.  I am certainly not ready to fall into the acquisition syndrome again.

What I do like about the location is that I have Mexican restauranteurs on both sides of the house.  As food-cetric as I am, that may be the house's best recommendation.

With two bedrooms, I am not going to meet my family compound fantasy.  But that is probably becoming more of a fantasy every day.

My brother would move here at the drop of a sombrero.  Not so, my mother.  She has thoroughly enjoyed the visit.  But I suspect I would have trouble uprooting her from Bend.

But stranger things have happened.

When I return to Melaque with my new Escape and shiny permanent resident card, I am going to do some serious thinking whether casa mia should become -- casa mia.

For those of you who might be interested in knowing more -- here is the listing online.