Go, you chicken fat, go away!

I had to go to the printing company this morning to pick up some plots.  So my wife and I took two of our younger daughters to school and went to Mesa Blueprint.  It's exactly 7 miles from my house.  My wife also had to take a dress to the dry cleaners so I told her I would attempt to run home and for her to be ready if I called.  She wasn't ready.

About half way through this became a zombie march home.  So I'll tell about the part that I remembered before losing rational and conscious thought.  The most enjoyable part was the smell of the Backyard Taco.  I know that sounds like a skanky brothel, but it's not.  It's a restaraunt now owned by a family that used to make Mexican food in their backyard.  They would make it for free, and if you wanted to give a donation, you could.  That's how they were able to get away with not having to follow typical regulations of running a business and having to comply with health code standards.  Well, I guess "business" got so good for them that they finally decided to do things right.  They've opened up shop on University.  I've gone there once.  It's pretty good.  But it smelled great this morning.  And I had one lady say good morning to me before I could say it to her.  That's all I can think of.  Goodbye.