I had such a wonderful time in El Paso

One minute, I’m in heaven, floating along in a cloudless desert day, and then, less than two hours later, I’m back at the desk in my Austin trailer, answering mail, getting stuff done, and my stomach is going bad. I had such a wonderful time in El Paso, and the delight of the Saturday night BBQ, and then, here I am, facing deadlines, trying to figure out how to get everything done before the next big fishing trip. The El Paso morning, as I got up from the couch, the sunlight streaming through my hostess’s windows [did I ever mention how much I like Aries fire? Or double Aries fire?] That El Paso sunlight has a very different quality to it — like it’s bright yellow and clear, not like a muddy afternoon sun in Austin. Which, yesterday afternoon, I got a chance to sample as I walked up the hill to Magnolia for breakfast with the Austin Journal group. Off the airplane, shake the El Paso dust off my sandals, and stroll up the hill. Strange group. There was an oddly mutable flavor to the crowd. I kept getting shuffled to the head of the table, and I’m not sure I liked that position. It’s also the first group of writers I’ve encountered wherein I felt totally at home. Not out of my element. Sort of weird. I still think that the breakfast place I’d been at in El Paso, two mornings in row, I still figure that’s the best it’s been in a long time. At the corner of Shadow Mountain and Mesa Drive, the Pastry Chef. I did manage to change up the advertising stuff: finally: nothing but products I like and/or use. Last night, a thunderstorm blew through town, “I like thunderstorms and neon signs.”