My internal clock is still set for Austin. I wake up at 6 or 7 in the morning in El Paso my internal clock is saying it’s like 9 AM, time to think about putting the feet on the floor.
The house is still, the children are asleep, the hosts are still abed.
I rolled over and went back to sleep. Then something tickled me, perhaps a vestige of Protestant Work Ethic, maybe the fact that I was fully rested, having begged out on a wild night at the casino.
Sunday afternoon, I had a long string o Scorpio women. Don’t get me wrong, I love me my Scorpio girls. I will never, ever lay another hand on one because I’m not sure the wounds from the last Scorpio “date” have ever healed properly.
Nope, not going there. Not even. But I did notice, that there was string, three, four, maybe more, enough to be an alarming trend on Sunday afternoon.
Then along comes this one guy. Not a Scorpio. We get settled in, and I start the tape rolling, and I had just seen him about two months ago, but he was back because 1> I was right, and 2> because I yelled, got excited, and he’s got it all on tape.
The girlfriend question, it pops up, and this guy looks at me, not a Scorpio stare, and he says, “I live like a monk.”
“You are, like, stealing my material.”
“Funny, that’s what you said last time, too.”
That’s the conversation that popped into my head Monday morning, in that nebulous time before getting out of bed and getting coffee.
I have the proof, there is at least one other stalwart, upstanding, person of integrity who lives like I do – like a monk.
October 13th….
It’s a historical date, and I wasn’t sure how much I stock I can place in two pierces of relative fiction, both which, cite this date. The Da Vinci Code. Holy Blood, Holy Grail.
My big plans include “camping out” at Cafe Dali in El Paso until my evening flight takes me home. I was hoping that they were sufficiently advanced to have wireless internet access – I’m spoiled in Austin – but no such luck. “WiFi? What’s that?”
Moon was in Taurus all last weekend, one sign off from a full moon, folks were all a little tense. Grace flipped through the single copy of the book that I had on hand, and decided that the Leo-Leo section was just about her current marriage. Had to be. “You quoted us.”
Dinner was at Forti’s again, and it launched conversation about passions. Looking at a steaming plate of peppers, onions, peppers, strips of beef, and peppers, with a couple of handmade tortillas on the side, I looked over at the bowl of salsa, and pointed out that my two passion in life seem to be books and hot food.
Did I mention the peppers in the beef plate?
