Breakfast tacos and English

Around 11 in the morning, I was sitting in the sun, feeling like I was on top of the world. There was cool breeze a day that was turning from scattered clouds to cloudless and clear, and other than the fact that I was wearing long pants, jeans really, everything was perfect.

I stopped at a new taqueria, one that just rolled up overnight, literally, at the corner of Riverside and Congress, on my way to a bus stop to take me off to the other job. I paused long enough to have two “Huevos and bacon” tacos, my standard breakfast fare these days.

“Dos huevo y bacon,” I ordered, then added, “and you can just stick them on plate, I don’t need them to go,” as there’s a little luncheon style plank that serves as a counter, attached to the side of the trailer.

“No Engles,” the server said.

To which I responded in my broken Spanish, and she was thrilled that I spoke a little bit.

Late in the afternoon, a Capricorn rolled through the office, then it turned into one of those days when everything I touched, had touched, or was supposed to touch didn’t turn out right. I would’ve been terribly upset except that I’ve been flying along without guidance for a spell, and that usually spells out trouble.

It’s not like I need a paycheck, but I’ve gotten kind of used to the idea that I can reduce some debt by handling a little part-time contract work. But I’ve also gotten used to the idea when I feel like I’m really on top of everything, and all jazzed up, the big boss comes in and rolls over me like truck. I suppose there’s a lesson about Saturn in there someplace, but I can’t be bothered by a day job. Trying to schedule readings around this is getting to be bothersome.

I did join some friends at Jovita’s, for Tuesday night dinner and drinks. I got put a little on the spot, in a good way, with the astrology questions. And one of my friends has herself a new boyfriend. Significant other. Or, insignificant other. Can’t call it a real relationship as that would sour the deal. What’s in a name, anyway?

Don Walser was playing to a sparse crowd, and his yodeling is still some of the finest I’ve heard. What escapes me is the way his music – live – fails to translate into a success in a recorded medium. Still, he has an amazing voice. Food wasn’t bad either.

I saw something on the bandstand that sparked an idea. The backdrop was a Mexican Flag and a Texas Flag, side by side. Makes for a good visual, if you ask me.

About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

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