Po Poury

We're just in from runnin' the day's errands and I almost put the top down for today's journey about town.  Almost, but not quite.  It was 57 degrees outside when I set out and my threshold for al fresco motoring is 65 degrees.  Close, but no cigar...

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Part o' the day's errands was to stop by the Super-Save for to re-stock the larder.  I noticed the in-house tortilla factory was in full swing when I arrived and politely inquired of the tortilla ladies if I might could snap their picture?  "Why certainly!" was the reply, after a semi-suspicious inquiry as to what I was gonna do with the photos.  I told the ladies they were gonna be blog fodder and then had to explain exactly what a blog is.  (sigh) The Younger Generation is supposed to be "with it," except when they're not.  But... herewith the Tortilla Girls:

It turned out that one photo wasn't enough, the young lady on the left insisted I take another pic of her and her co-worker... so, bein' the cooperative sort I AM... I obliged.  They wanted to see the results and exclaimed "¡Oh! ¡Qué bonita!"

Verdad.

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I've never served on a jury.  But that doesn't mean I haven't been summoned to serve and I received another such summons from the Good People of Polk County, Texas in yesterday's mail.  I made a phone call this morning to the county clerk to politely inform her I was no longer a resident of her fair county but before I could get the words out of my mouth she said to just ignore the summons seein' as how I was an Escapee.  Which is par for the course.  I've received three such summons during the past ten years and was always excused, given the fact that Escapees (the name of my RV club, headquartered in Livingston, Texas) are almost always somewhere other than Livingston.  I was somewhat wistful during our conversation when I realized this particular phone call was prolly the last item on my relocation agenda and the last remaining tie to the RV life.  Once again: sigh.

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And now I think it's time to crack a beer, head out to the verandah, and finish the cigar I lit when I set out on my errands.  It might have been too cold for top-down motoring but  it ain't too cold for beer drinkin' on the verandah.  In proper attire, of course.