I sat in the hot spa, and recovered nobly.
I sporadically read Herrera's Kahlo biography, a page or two here, a page or two there, like a mosaic of a life I found each section interesting, but I also felt no need to follow chronology or read every page. I love Kahlo's work, and wish I could go spend a weekend at the Frida Kahlo Museum.
I took my kite with the long, plastic tail to the local park, where cold winds coming from multiple directions would send the kite up, and then bring it back down to earth, as if the top tip of the kite were a lawn dart. I stopped when all my kite string became wrapped around a young live oak tree. I unraveled the string, declared victory, and went home.
Now I alternate between diet root beer and academy awards.