His Butter!

Today has been great. Early this afternoon, Tony and I jumped into Buttermilk and took off for Dixon Automotive, in Hondo, to pick up Trigger.

When we arrived at our favorite mechanic's garage, they needed to do a couple of more adjustments on Trigger, so we asked them to recommend a good restaurant, because we were really hungry. Jimmy's son, Kevin, highly recommended Herman and Sons, not far away on Highway 90, and then he gave us directions to it, before we took off.

But, instead of going to Herman and Sons, like we should have, we decided to try this restaurant which had a lot of pickups parked outside of it, because we were starving.

When we entered the clean, friendly place a waitress greeted us, handed us some menus and then asked us what we wanted to drink, "Tea." We said, at the same time.

As we sipped on our iced teas, I ordered a sampler plate and Tony ordered Carne Guisada and we tried not to laugh when the sweet waitress served us our delicious meals. Tony and I looked at our un-appetizing plates and then at each other, with raised eyebrows, even though he couldn't see mine, because they are gray, which basically makes them invisible to the human eye.

Trying hard not to laugh at the bland-looking food, when the really nice waitress returned to our table with four complimentary flour tortillas, I nearly lost it when she proudly placed one, yes one—tiny, plastic cup of fake butter, about the serving size of a half of a teaspoon—for us to share?

As Tony disappointedly tried to eat his not-seasoned carne guisada, plain white rice and refried beans, probably from a can—I felt guilty for picking the place for us to eat at, so to make peace, I picked up the small, fake butter cup and said, "Here, you can have the butter," and then I burst out laughing and so did Tone.

"This food is awful. It has no taste" T. whispered. "We don't even have any hot sauce to flavor our food."

"I know," I whispered back to him. "My microwaved enchiladas have no taste at all. Do you want my chalupa, because I'm afraid of it? My taco only has a tablespoon of beef in it and there's no salsa inside of it—just lettuce, tomato, a sprinkle of cheese and hamburger if you can find it." When Tony lifted my chalupa off of my plate, so he could eat it, I joked, "So, that's where my fluffy, white rice has been hiding! Thanks, T.!"

As I nibbled on a dry, homemade flour tortilla, I watched Tony butter a very small area on his tortilla, before running out of his butter and then he took a bite of it, which instantly caused his smile to turn upside down, so I started laughing, again. "I make better flour tortillas than these," Tony grumbled, with floury food still in his mouth.

"I know, but at least these tortillas have some taste to them and you got the butter." As T. unhappily played around with my chalupa, on his plate, trying to decide if he really wanted to eat it, I said, "Let's not get a dessert." Then I went and paid over $20.00 for a lunch that neither of us will ever forget. Then after leaving a $5.00 tip on the table for the really nice waitress—we left the restaurant, with all of the trucks parked outside, in front of it, because they belonged to all of their family members and friends sitting inside.

When we arrived back at Dixon Automotive, Kevin came out to greet us, so Tony lowered his window so we could talk to him and I joked, "We should have taken your advice on where to eat, Kevin." And when we told him where we had eaten—he laughed and then shook his head sideways, because he knew about their food. Then Buttermilk and Tony followed Trigger and me home. And that's about it for tonight.

Y'all have a great evening!