Did You Know I/m Not Boring?

I learned this about myself just this month, through this here blahg. 

First of all, I have an uncanny ability to twist damn near any story into hilarious or melodramatic prose. 

Second, I had no idea my pinball hobby was interesting to anyone but me. I definitely will be working on a way to share some video the next time I have a "good" day and play. 

Third, everything Husband and I attempt usually becomes an adventure, whether it's freezer cooking, binge watching a show, or letting a cockerpoo adopt us, it's gonna be an experience. 

It's been a pretty uplifting month, trying to explore the more private Anna, while revealing more to you nice people. You've all been so friendly and receptive, especially with my stranger posts, it just makes me want to open up more!!

Day Five: Fucking Food!

We started early after a good night's rest, headed towards San Antonio. 

It was another day of endless road; Husband and I cherishing each other's company and getting into involved discussions like we did when we met. I almost prefer a long drive to places, because it's the most opportune setting to be intimate on that deeper level. I love it so much!

On top of a lovely drive together, we arrived in San Antonio at a decent hour, checked into a comfortable room, and went off in search of Mexican food. 

Oh. My. God.

This place. 

I can't even. 

I'm tearing up at the memory. 

This food was so fucking good, Husband and I were considering an open marriage with it. 

Fuck. This was like, straight out of abuela's kitchen level stuff. 

Everything was hand made, fresh to order, including their orgasmic tortillas. I never thought I'd see the day a tortilla would get me this hot and bothered. 

After eating our huge, delicious portions, a regular customer passed through and insisted we try the flan. 

We did not regret over stuffing ourselves with it. I haven't felt this good about belly bloat since... I don't even know. This could be record breaking stuff right here. 

Checo's is a family owned slice of heaven tucked into a corner of a shopping center. Go out of your way to eat here at least twice. Husband and I will be making a point of stopping here forever days in our future ventures. 

Day Four: Hey, Kid!

We slept in for a bit, taking a precaution in case the town also didn't wake up at regular hours either. Since we didn't really have much of a meal the night before, we were pretty ravenous. Luckily for us, Fort Sumner is home to one of the best burgers I may have ever had in my life.

Stop for a few seconds and really look at this thing.

It's so fucking beautiful.

Most reviews of the Rodeo Grill rave about their burgers, but that is definitely not all this 5 year old, family owned establishment has to offer.

The owner and main chef, Jeff Cortese, is an incredibly friendly guy with a great sense of humor.

Since Husband and I were the only ones there, he and his daughter came and hung out with us for a bit, filling us in on the best places to visit, as well as what to avoid. I wish this place wasn't so far out, since I'd love to make a habit of visiting that restaurant.

After running my mouth with Jeff for a spell, we finally set off for what we came for - The Kid.

Correction - Billy The Goofy Lookin' Kid.

Seriously, all of the art in this place depicted him as sort of inbred looking and pigeon toed. I kind of felt bad for him.

By the time we finished exploring the eclectic museum, put together by donations from local families across the 19th and 20th centuries, we had no juice left to go spelunking for The Kid's true burial site (sorry Renae).

  

  

 

 

 There was an entire passageway dedicated to artifacts from The Kid's final days, as well as many historical anecdotes on the truth of his life. To be quite honest, my eyes sort of glazed over at most of it, as it was pretty redundant, and mostly focused on the day he died at the hands of the sheriff, shot in the darkness of his girlfriend's home.

 

The more interesting pieces surrounding his life were encased in glass (as they should be) which unfortunately meant I had little to no chance of photographing them well under the fluorescent lights in the building and my phone's limited abilities. 

Husband may have gotten some good shots, but you'll have to ask him about it over at his page since he's been elbows deep in Ultracade servicing lately. He may have posted about this trip already, but I haven't seen it.

I took a great interest in the more scientific and sociological displays from the past, like this barber's setup.

 

A perfectly preserved medicine cabinet, stocked with a housewife's go-to's. I ain't even mad about the crappy glare, it was too exciting not to capture. It's amazing how much has changed in a century, and at the same time how much has stayed the same...

I got a kick out of this one. I read the whole tableau and guffawed so loud, people stared. In a museum full of men, I apparently caught a lot of attentions as the only woman, and soon people came over to ask what I laughed at so hard.

"The Greatest Moments of a Girl's Life"

The Proposal, The Trousseau, The Wedding, The Honeymoon, The First Evening in Their Own Home, Their New Lives (depiction of their newborn)

Ahh, to be a girl with such lofty aspirations...

I also went to jail, for completely unrelated reasons - I swear!

There was an outdoor exhibit area as well, with antique carriages, kitchen sets, vehicles, and even gas pumps! The sunlight was too great for my meager eyes, so none of the shots came out legibly. *sad face*

Eventually I regrouped with Husband, as we had been separated in our pursuits of different interests. He hung around The Kid more, and I had spent much more time in the rest of the exhibits.

We set off for Carlsbad, in the naive hope to check out a Victorian home turned restaurant/hotel. Sadly when we arrived they were booked, so we passed through to the next available hotel. Little did we know, there was a convention in the area and almost everyone was full. With some friendly guidance (thank you hotel staffers, you didn't have to do that) we finally settled into the edge of town near a small restaurant district.

It was already pretty late (again), but we managed to squeeze our way in to Yellowbrix French restaurant. We figured it was quieter there because it was a newer place, and people were flocking to the more established restaurants with reputations. 

Not to be a total hater, but the real reason was the lofty prices for relatively bland excuses for French cuisine. I had a sad after this meal, mostly out of surprise, especially with all the beautiful atmosphere.

 Had this been an "American" place with slightly lower pricing, it would have been perfect. Good portions, interesting plating, and decent food. 

Dear Diary

My BFF, Becky, kissed Johnny - and I like Johnny.
*insert preteen sob spiral here*

I just wanted to put you in the same place I am mentally whenever I hear the word "diary."

That's not to say I don't appreciate the significance of having some sort of journal/log/outlet. I mean, I blog, what kind of hypocrite would I be if I rejected journaling?! I just tend to associate "diary" with a lot of juvenile, emotional connotations. 

For almost my entire childhood, different family members would try to encourage me to write a diary, to the point that every gifting event yielded at least two blank journals with pens. I'm not sure why everyone pushed for it, or if it was just a go-to generic gift for girls, because it never really stuck. The handful of times I tried, it always felt forced, awkward. More often than not I would read what I wrote and hate how whiny or childish I sounded, ashamed of whatever feelings I had penned. 

The only solid argument for me to write a journal was for future generations. Even that wasn't too motivating, since my life is pretty average. So until I had something interesting to share, I just avoided the whole thing. 

And then, this blahg!!! Aren't we all glad I finally got over myself and started this shit?!?

Would You Go With Me?

I cannot recall ever traveling anywhere alone, and I think that comes from both a lack of means and an innate fear of being exploited. I seriously think women who travel frequently alone are incredibly brave. I couldn't handle feeling that vulnerable, being in an unfamiliar place.

It's something I'd like to do, like as a spiritual reflection sort of journey, but probably not something I'll make as a solid goal. Beyond some escapist soul searching, I'd much prefer traveling with a partner. Not only is it easier and more fun, but then you have someone to share in the experience with. 

As you nice people have seen thus far, all of my endeavors have some degree of unexpected adventure. That sort of shit would not be nearly as awesome if I was alone!

Plus, when we encounter really cool things, it's nice to be able to switch off taking photos of us with it. 

Alooooooone

 I think I've established this before, but let's explore it in more detail. 

Do I like being alone? Sometimes, but not really. 

If you nice people can't tell from my style and adventures, I am generally an extrovert. Not all the time, and not in the extreme, but for the most part I am happier when I'm around others. 

That's not to say I don't appreciate my alone time. It's important, especially with my increasing need for recovery time after every attempt to accomplish something. I get tired a little faster, and my body has this rude way of just quitting without me now - this is being worked on, but that's for another day. 

I like to recharge, and more importantly do disgusting or awkward things like picking my nose, naked time, and stretching/flexing my back and legs. Just trust me on that last one, it's not pretty. 

There's other things I work on when alone, but it's purely out of necessity. Handling bills, appointments, and house cleaning are just better suited as solo adventures. 

Beyond that, if I can accomplish something while also socializing, you can bet your ass I will!!

Do you need a lot of alone time? What do you like to do alone? (I'm looking at you, motherly people)

I'm Funny, Dammit!

Anyone who says otherwise is either an adult figure in my family, or just hates life so much they can't see my incredibly clever humor through the dense fog of their misery, which could still include some of my family. I get a lot of disapproving glares nowadays for my choices in words and less than reverent approach to life's heavier subject matter.

And you know what? Too fucking bad. 

I like to laugh, and more importantly, make other people laugh. I think it's one of my better features, like if I was a used car or house or something, that would totally be in my sales listing. 

"Infectious sense of humor, and glowing smile. Please don't pay too much attention to her staunch opinions or pressing need for baked goods, the laughter is worth it!"

There are few things that make me happier than getting people happy or calmed down through laughter. Shit is like panacea for those important inside things like your brain and your soul and stuff. 

Story time!

Just the other day I was having dental molds cast, which really sucks because A) that polymer crap is gross, and B) I have a pretty sensitive gag reflex.  

Yes, it's true, take a moment to mourn for my poor husband. 

Anyshoe. I took Grace with me for company on the drive, but also just in case things got icky and I was unable to drive home. She's about as uppity as I with dental work, so she was expecting the crabbies from me when I came out. Instead, I came out to her rolling her eyes and sighing,  "I heard you back there, and every single staff member giggling like school girls, what did you do?"

Not an exaggeration. The lady making the molding stuff had to stop what she was doing to recover. It was way too easy to crack jokes in a situation like that. I mean come on- mouth guards, drool, and jaw soreness- how could I resist??

What really took the cake was when one mold was extra goopy, and I really did gag. The hygienist grabbed the back of my head, holding the mold in with the other hand, and blurted, "Come on, you can take it!!!"

I instantly had the most perverted mental picture in my head, and started laughing so hard, spit flew everywhere. I don't know if it was my laughter, the spit, or if she had the same thought, but we almost ruined that cast between the two of us losing our shit. It was glorious. 

We Know How to Handle Balls

I know that's a cheap shot, but I couldn't resist the pun. I've been AWOL the last couple days because of a last minute women's tournament in Vegas. It was pinball, and it was awesome.

"Effin' Anna"

The event was held at the infamous Pinball Hall of Fame, and unfortunately due to the speedy planning, only 20 women made it to compete. That was pretty good odds on my part, since this was my virgin voyage.

 

The rules were double elimination by high score in two out of three rounds, with the choice of machine determined by coin toss, and only 3 balls allowed per round.

I wasn't going in expecting to win, but to learn. Husband was confident in my skill set, and while I did not disappoint, I was definitely in for a challenge.

 

I barely lost round one by a fluke, and on my beloved Elvira no less!!

Ironically, I kicked ass on the only machine we don't own, but I love to play. The third round to determine who moved to the loser's bracket was on an electromagnetic machine. The epic woman I played against was having as much fun as me, and we completely forgot to photograph our scores. She beat me, though.

I went on to the loser's bracket, and hoped that Terminator was going to give me an edge.

It did not.

This time I remembered to photograph the electromagnetic machine, capturing victory being snatched out from beneath me by a mere 4,000 in a dead ball. I felt a little cheated, but I had $8 in quarters left, and a side tournament to enjoy.

They had a couple side tourneys, but the only one I was interested in was the "blind" one. The guys running the event had placed an 8 inch piece of cardboard over the bottom of the playfield, making the flippers almost impossible to see. I thought I was going to freak out and lose, hating it for the handicap.

That game was almost more fun than playing regular pinball!! I was making self-depricating jokes the entire time, as well as narrating my adaptive process. I didn't realize till later, but apparently I had a small audience giggling along with my struggle. My only regret with that game was the immense suffering I felt once I sat down and my knee reminded me that vicodin would not suffice. Luckily I was already done for the day by that point.

Everyone was incredibly cool and seemed to be there for fun, which made losing actually feel pretty good. I watched a few other matchups, and some of the more experienced ladies coached me on a few techniques.


I hope this explains my absence over the weekend, and that all you nice people will understand why I was basically bedridden the last two days. I promise to play catch up really quick, with multiple posts per day until we're back on NaBloPoMo schedule!