El Paso Lines

Weird Dude:
I think it was Grace’s first grandson, looks just like his daddy, the kid started calling me “Weird Dude,” as in, “Hi Weird Dude!” Then a high five.

I’m good with that.

I used all of Grace’s current, visiting grandchildren to make a quick birthday card for Sister.

El Taco Tote:
El Paso, TX: from the first time I flew in, where a Taco Tote was clearly visible out the port side of the landing aircraft, obviously near the base and the airport, and ever since that first image, I’ve always connected “El Taco Tote” with El Paso.

Last Saturday night, in an effort to avoid madness and melee, I stopped for a quick bite. Worn out from teaching and readings, I changed my order when I noticed a special, the “Al Pastor” tacos. Got an order and a Big Red, the perfect combination – for me.

My order came up, it came out over the loudspeaker, sounded like, “New-wave-ay,” – nine in Spanish. When I moved to fetch the tray, the counter help looked at me, “Number nine.”

Greasy, in the way it should be. Tasty thin chunks of pork, grilled to perfection, tiny silver-dollar tortillas, the meat piled high and pineapple chunks on top of that. I added fresh chopped cilantro and diced white onions.

When I departed for El Paso, I grabbed a random music CD, turned out I grabbed Mexican Institute of Sound. Sort of a blend that defies a single characterization, part dance rhythms, part techno, loops of Cumbia and Conjunto layered into the mix. Mostly in Spanish, some English lyrics. Very fitting, especially with the bass turned up to proper subsonic volumes.