I brake for torment

We did it. We went to La Tormenta for our celebratory March Forth supper. I forgot to pick up a roll of Tums, but since we hoofed it to the restaurant, I figured we could walk around downtown all evening, if need be, to help the digestive process along. I was in the mood for a ramble anyway.

As we approached the building, I'll admit, my heart beat just a little bit faster, anticipating the danger and romance we were about to embrace in joining our Spanish-speaking neighbors for the grande opening. I snapped some photos to document the moment. Rob and I took a deep breath, gathered up our gringo-ness, and rounded the corner to the main entrance. It was closed. ¡¿Qué pasó?! There was a short Latino man standing at the front door, chipping away at loose paint. "We will open Friday," he informed us. ¡Ay, caramba!

Apparently the Universe didn't want us partaking of torment on March Forth. I suppose there's wisdom in that.

So we walked all over downtown. Should we eat here? Should we eat there? Should we go home and eat? Nah, there's nothing good in the fridge. I requested a quick detour across the street as we neared the local beauty supply, for nail polish, the good stuff (OPI). I'm so very glad that, hungry as we were, we didn't stay perfectly on task, because if we had, we'd have missed seeing this:



What's that? Can't quite make it out? Okay, maybe a closer view will help:



Do you see now? It's been very windy for a couple days, and the west desert's been all churned up in the atmosphere, making everything in the area hazy with dust. Some poor bird, a very dirty bird, made a committed face plant in the window of this vacant storefront. I know it shouldn't be funny, but . . . if you could just see it in person, you'd understand! I mean, practically every feather is imprinted. I can almost see the bird's facial expression from the outline he left. Ha! I couldn't help myself; I laughed all night about it. Poor bird. Now there's someone who marched forth resolutely, headlong into torment. That could have been us. Maybe I'm glad after all that our newest local eatery put us off so we could make a better choice: Los Hermanos' chile rellenos required no Tums intervention and fueled our forward march safely, if not spicily.

My only real complaint there was that the waiter kept touching me. He did not get a better tip for his effort.

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Other tidbits from March Forth (this is for you, Irina):
• I received love letters! (Way to reinforce my letter-writing experiment, friends. This week's sweet windfall is doing nothing but reconvert me to the beauties of handwritten correspondence. Maybe I'm going to jump on the Change Wagon.)
• I listened again to a remarkably beautiful address given by one of my favorite people, and it really set the stage for the rest of my day, and the year.
• I did some indexing, to help with the effort to make US Census and other records available to the public for genealogical research—Irish and French farming families this time.
• I decided to break down and do a little shopping, and stop waiting till I'm my most comfortable size again to be dressed in something other than my raggedy jeans. (My closet situation has grown downright pathetic while I've been waiting for magic alterations to happen.) Managed to find pants on sale that should tide me over till I can make some more things or get lucky thrifting.
• I bought the most gorgeous brown eggs from Nephi chickens from Good Earth. Sure, they cost more, but in our currently difficult times, my conscience tells me the only cost to count is not my own food budget, but also the livelihood of local farmers and small business owners. Besides, these are the tenderest, tastiest eggs I've eaten in ages.
• Rob and I had a great evening together, and it all ended with a discussion about what his name should be. He's never thought the name Rob fit him, and for years after we got married, I thought the same thing. We didn't come up with anything last night, although we ruled out a whole lot of possibilities (he'll never be a Bruce, I can assure you of that). We did, however, agree that Banjo is a terrific name for somebody.