When Ethel, Silas and I put on our migratin’ shoes in 1997 and moved from Tucson, AZ to Waterbury, VT, we were quite content to be in New England in the autumn.
However, we immediately looked around for some good Mexican food.
In just the same way, the Texans came to Purgatory last week for spring break – and what did the ski hill administrators put out in the plaza for ’em?
Yep – a mechanical bull.
When we went downtown for a meeting on Thursday Night, we went to dinner between the meetings – and we went Serious Texas Bar-B-Que at the north end of town. Big mistake – the place was full of Texans.
Of course, that’s a silly thing to say, because EVERYTHING in Durango was full of Texans last week. But, still – why in the world would a Texan go to Colorado and eat at a place that calls itself “Serious Texas Bar-B-Que”?
Because Texans have no desire to go anyplace else. They would just as soon that every place else be part of Texas. Texans will go to a ski hill in Colorado to ride a mechanical bull, so so’s that they can feel right at home.
(sure, you say. Folks in Colorado are, like, cowboys and stuff, and they probably ride mechanical bulls, too. Well, Texas Spring Break ended this weekend. The bull is gone today. ‘Nuff said.)
Today was Day 91 on skis. That’s right – I’m a Two-Digit Midget. Only have nine more days to go. Currently, it looks like I’ll be taking a day off a week from Wednesday, to let Ethel catch up on Day 99, so that we can ski Day 100 together.
Usually, I have to wait until I reach a goal for that goal to be come meaningless and puny. However, I’m fairly, reasonably certain that I’ll hit 100 days this year, so I’m already thinking past that goal. Ther is no satisfying the human ego. No way to do that – none at all.