Butts and Ashes: Happy Cinco de Mayo!

So, today Bob and I decided to leave work early and head out for a late lunch. Since it was Cinco de Mayo, we went to our favorite authentic Mexican restaurant. We love this spot and went at least several times a month before the world went mad last year. It's a small place, decorated quite authentically with a giant, hand painted mural on one wall of Vicente Fernandez, Frida Kahlo and luchadors. (Think Nacho Libre) All the kids working there are hispanic, many with thick accents, which makes me miss my parents. They would have been inviting everyone to our house for a BBQ or backyard wedding. No joke. Anyway, it's such a great place with Mexican music playing in the background and Novellas playing on the tv hanging over the bar. That's how I remembered it the last time we were there a year ago. But today? Madre de Dios!!!

I knew we had probably picked the wrong day to make our grand screw-you-Covid comeback appearance as soon as we pulled in the parking lot and felt the bass booming through our truck windows and into our senior citizen heads. Since it was Cinco de Mayo, the restaurant had hired a DJ who was set up outside for the party that was happening inside and out on the patio. Now listen, normally, I would have jumped from the truck and done the merengue all the way to my table. Three shots for $5? Bring it on and Viva la Raza! Normally. But I haven't been normal since last year when fear drove me deeper into farm life isolation with a side of broken ankle. So when I gingerly stepped from the truck, I hung onto Bob for dear life, afraid of getting knocked down by the latin beat that was sending shock waves my way.

Once inside, I was amazed and stressed by the number of people everywhere. Drinking people. Drinking, partying people. Even though these are usually my kind of people, the noise level was really overwhelming to me today. I absolutely realized clearly during lunch, I may be deserving of an official hermit card. I don't think I like that one bit. Anyway, to get in the spirit of the day, I ordered my usual coconut margarita and decided to relax and enjoy the moment. Lunch was served, it was as good as we remembered and a big tip was earned because of the great, as usual, service. Sounds good, right? Wrong.

Before heading home, we decided to stop in Lowes to buy a few hanging plants for our patio. I mean, we we're doing almost normal again, right, with lunch in our favorite place. So, why not stroll the garden center next store. Bad, bad decision. Halfway through the store my stomach informed me, it did not appreciate mexican food and margaritas at three in the afternoon, when I had not had one drop of water all day. I'm pretty sure, as I limped my way to the restroom, I heard my stomach call me some unkind names. My sheet white, sweaty face verified what my stomach was saying. It was brutal.

Anyway, we made it home. I drank a lot of water as penance and my stomach and face forgave me. I ate a bowl of cereal for dinner and called it a night. Until my daughter Rachel sent me this text.