coffee and "a taco con juevos y tocino, tostado," only, for the first time ever, it WASN'T tostado, but that didn't matter when the conversation was enough to distract us, and a mariachi guitar starts playing in the middle of the restaurant, like that is something normal at breakfast time;
trains and trucks on the floor, and under the couch, and Curious George read outloud, and Thomas on the tv;
back and forth between the mission and the house and the ballfields and Larry's and dusty feet and a bit of sunburn on the arms;
white paint and silver paint and sweeping;
queso and chips and Coke and limeade and chicken casserole and rice and broccoli and brownies;
the harmony of hymns;
and,
getting smoked in Words with Friends yet again...
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