Grams came across this photo the other day and I couldn’t resist posting it. Before I convinced Grams and Big Guy that they needed to broaden their horizons, they thought that this was traveling to exotic places. What a couple of doofus'. What amazes me is that I even allowed myself to go along on this junket.
Actually, we did have a good time. We found a little restaurant in a cellar (never to be found again) and had a very relaxing lunch. All the time we were there both Big Guy and Grams kept saying, “It hasn’t changed in 30 years!” Here’s the kicker, we went back a few years ago (don’t ask, I can’t explain why) and it still hadn’t changed. Grams bought that embroidered dress that makes her look like an overstuffed chair. And, they kept repeating, “It hasn’t changed in 40 years!”
The second time, we took the little red trolley from San Diego to Tijuana. It was pretty cool. We had lunch at a café that must have been around since the 1930s. The waitresses had very starched uniforms and the food wasn't nearly as fabulous as the cafe in cellar from the time before. What Grams liked best was the department store that was attached.
We thought that by taking the trolley we would get around that traffic problem on the way back, but it was not to be. The line going through immigration was blocks long and then Big Guy decided to joke with inspector about the cigar in his pocket. When he was asked if it were from Cuba, Big Guy said, “sure!” Then he had to explain that he was kidding. Eventually, he gave the cigar to the fellow. Then 2 hours after we got in line, Bob’s your uncle, we were out and on our way back to San Diego.
It was a Labor Day weekend and when we returned to the hotel, we found out that there was an end-of-summer concert on a pier near where we were staying. The concert was sold out, but we walked over to the next pier and got a freebee. The breeze was warm and everyone was happy. It was one of those perfect times.
Oh, about the photo. Grams used it for the Christmas card that year. Inside it said, “Back from our world travels just in time to wish you a Happy Christmas.” Who says she doesn’t have a sense of humor? Did you notice that her slip is showing? Wotta woman! She's a class act!
Well, back to the revising on my book.
Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).
La cucaracha, la cucaracha,
Ya no puede caminar;
Porque no tiene, porque le falta
Marijuana que fumar.
Ya murio la cucaracha,
Ya la llevan a enterrar,
Entre cuatro zopilotes
Y un raton de sacristan.
Con las barbas de Carranza,
Voy a hacer una toquilla,
Pa' ponersela al sombrero
De su padre Pancho Villa.
Un panadero fue a misa,
No encontrando que rezar,
Le pidio a la Virgen pura,
Marijuana pa' fumar.
Una cosa me da risa:
Pancho Villa sin camisa;
Ya se van los carrancistas
Porque vienen los villistas.
Para sarapes, Saltillo;
Chihuahua para soldados;
Para mujeres, Jalisco;
Para amar, toditos lados
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