So then this happened.


Aurora and I were having a veg out night and starting to get hungry.  We were dressed for staying in, she’d just come from water aerobics.  So we decided to walk down to the Mexican hole in the wall on the corner, since the unwritten rule of those places is that if your shoes match each other, you’re dressed up.  You know, like WalMart, or …….. East County.  (In fact, at the WalMart IN East County, I once saw a woman wearing nothing but a shower curtain.)  (But I digress.)

When we walked in, we could see that we’d walked into some sort of event.  Karaoke.  Only old Spanish mariachi standards.  Bunch of old vaqueros in boots and hats. 

Of course we had to be involved somehow.  I know a few songs in spanish, but nothing listed there.  Aurora knew them ALL.  And once these old guys realized that, their hearts collectively flew out of their chests, across the room into her little palm.

I shimmied backup, and nodded away drinks after Aurora’d gotten all she could drink.

To say she won would be putting it too mildly.  If she’d asked for the deed to the place, I think they would have given it to her.

We’ll be going back next week, of course.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go brush up on my La Niña Fresa.


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