Foodie heaven

I love my mornings. After I get the initial Tyvaso out of the way and feed the boys a couple of times, I sit in my chair with a cup of coffee and let my mind flit about.

Some thoughts like butterflies light briefly and then flutter away. Others I want to write about, but once I get to the computer, they evaporate.

The peacefulness begins the day. Then the birds stir. The males broadcast messages to the world, puffing up and strutting along the top of the fence. I know now the meaning of cock robin. The grass grows tall and the birds hop about looking for the birdseed I have tossed. Only their heads show when they land.

These birds have their own ideas about the spa. They choose to drink rather than splash.

Yesterday, Connie and I explored a grocery in the barrio. While much of the store has similar products to the one near my apartment, the one in the barrio offers many specialty items.

The meat case displayed rabbit and goat alongside the usual shrimp and steak. Oxtail and calf fries shared space with roast and sausages. The groceries here serve hot meals and salads. Red picnic tables with rolls of paper towels atop them grace the eating area in the barrio. The bakery features pan dulce (see photo).

After buying some peanuts from a girl earning money to go to a tournament in Odessa, we headed to a meat market. Harold's opened its doors in 1963. Walking in the door, the first thing I noticed was the aroma. Barbecue. The wooden floors, the dim lighting. The fresh ground beef, the arm roasts as large as platters. Efficient workers taking care of customer orders, wrapping choices in butcher paper.

Candy imported from Mexico sits side by side with Snickers and M&Ms The cashier told us about her new boyfriend and how good he treats her.

The farmers market opened this week. In another week or two, I will make an early morning trip there. I am a foodie at heart.

Later Dude.

P.S. I weep for the English language and other archaic practices going down the tube.