Small circles
Bucky's guest post this week needs no introduction. Especially as he asked me not to give away the ending in my intro. Here's Bucky. EL
So, we were at the bar on Saturday, were Paco, JMT and I, and it was uncharacteristically quiet. We were the only customers in the place. Paco was concentrating on his chili relleno, JMT was rearranging the condiments on his cheeseburger and I was staring at my BLT, thinking that it isn’t really “toast” if it’s still soft on the outside.
Stacy was providing a syncopated rhythm to the odd afternoon by absent-mindedly drumming on the bar with a couple of swizzle sticks. ...






It's weird, but Bucky, our macho, rural good-ole-boy regular, has been getting sort of existential and Zen-like lately. Witness the questions at the end of his guest post today. Here's Bucky. EL 




In his guest post today, Bucky touches on a subject that plagues me every time I take a road trip. I have packed lunches often enough, but I hate eating in the car, and there are only a few routes I take that have picnic tables in nice rest stops. Here's Bucky. EL
I was depressed enough about 2008 to hope that 2009 would hold better things for me. It turns out that's not true, if I'm to believe my horoscope. And it's almost impossible not to, isn't it? (I'm a Pisces.) Thanks, Bucky. EL
For someone who says he knows nothing about food, I think our friend Bucky is progressing nicely. In today's bit of culinary nostalgia, our guest poster from the big rectangular state out West even gives us a recipe. EL



