Perro Caliente

Some days, you just can’t find a hot dog bun.

But you can usually find a tortilla.

As American as French Apple Pie and Bays-eh-bol! (“Bays-eh-bol…been….berryberry GOOD…to Me?” Chico Escuela, circa 1978, SNL)

I have to admit – I LIKE this Mexican turn on an American favorite. It had a certain, oh, I don’t know – a certain “No lo se'”, if you get my drift.  And corn tortillas just seem to last a lot longer than hot dog buns.

Come to think of it, Ethel wanted to make hamburgers the other night, but we didn’t have any buns, and we’re 30 miles from the grocery – so why not “hamBURROs”? They would have a great (as my friend Alan used to say) “meat-to-bread ratio”.

Currently I’m sitting here waiting on something at work. It’s a Thursday, so we should be driving in to town tonight for 2 meetings and errands, but it may be Ethel driving by herself – my chest feels tighter than it did the other day. I’m not coughing as much, but my voice sounds “muffled” even to me, and Ethel says that she can smell my infection when I breathe (which doesn’t sound very romantic – and actually sounds like I might be contagious).

Come to think of it, that sounds worrisome.

Anyway – If I can get off work early enough to soak in a hot steamy tub, I’ll probably head to town. And I might anyway. And, even if I soak in a hot steamy tub, I might NOT head to town. I’m really waffling right now, aren’t I?….and I’m not one to waffle on the subject of meetings, or, at least, I never have been.

But right now I can feel a lump in the middle of my chest, like an obstruction to my breathing.0

I hope it’s not my pneumonia getting worse.

And I SURE hope that it’s not my Perro Caliente stuck in an airway somewhere.