THIS SUNNY, cool morning we returned from our 20-minute walk around the neighborhood plaza. Birds were singing. The sun was shining. The air was like Baby Bear’s porridge, just right.
Walking back, my child bride detoured to the little general store on the corner near the Hacienda. She purchased butter for her pastries. I continued on, leaving the gate door unlocked for her return.
I sat on the porch, removed the walking boots that I bought years back at Academy sporting goods in San Antonio and put on my blue, house Crocs. I also have older, brown, yard Crocs.
In the kitchen I poured a glass of fresh orange juice. I returned to the porch, looking at what you see above. My child bride returned, went into the kitchen and came back with a grapefruit, which she rips apart with her hands, kinda like a hyena on a dead wildebeest. But it looks ladylike.
We will lunch today on beans and roasted chicken. The beans are already in the kitchen. I will head out later to buy the roasted chicken at my favorite spot on the ring road. Beans and chicken are our Wednesday tradition. You get a hen and a half on Wednesday for the price of one. Leftover chicken goes into evening salads.
Can’t beat it. None of it.