Chapter 84

The kayak is sanded fair ... dusted ... wiped down with acetone and damp towels to raise the grain (wood hairs freed by sanding and water) ... sanded again with 1000 grit and painted with vinyl-ester resin ... sanded again and covered with handmade fiberglas curtains laid down in wet resin. It has the makings of being pretty.

We got the curtains at the Goodwill, Amvets, Austin Area ministries ... and several garage/yard sales. Just another reason why she’s not done. I had to find the curtains.

Things go better with Two. When she puts her mind to it ... Two is HELP! (Caps and exclamation point intended.)

“Okay,” she said. “Now can we go water skiing?”

“Two, I don’t know if you noticed or not ... but it’s 9:30 ... we missed lunch AND dinner ... and the sunset was a beaut.”

“9:30? Lunch? Dinner?” She clutched her abdomen ... it growled at her. “Tyche ... Feed Me!”

I said, “Surprise has the car ... it’s either my homemade or run ... or a bike ride.

Across the street from Mi Casita ... sorta ... is Pastor Taco ... it’s a homemade trailer ... with great smells ... and a few hundred yards west is Taqueria Michoacan, a food trailer by a convenience store.

Okay Okay Okay ... it’s a mile farther west ... and it’s the bomb ... green salsa to die for ... and the tacos? Buck fifty and that’s with everything on it. This is NOT your lettuce and beans taco ... this baby is dressed. Only food trailer with a 4.9 approval rating between Bud Field and the University.

“I’ve had your cooking,” she said. She took off running.

I’m wearing steel toed safety shoes ... Two is in open toed sandals ... Two NEVER drops anything on her feet.

I’m not saying she doesn’t drop things ... she does. Her feet are never in the way. My safety shoes are boots ... and I’m still breaking them in. No way will I keep up. I tried.

I was in luck ... Two was at the door of Mi Casita, “I’ve ordered. I know what you like ... so you’ve got it coming.”

“Let me catch my breath and I’m your man,” I said.

A whole raft of Latinos was walking in when I said it.

“That got a look from them, didn’t it?” I said.

Two started laughing ... got the hiccups and had to sit down. No chair ... she sat on a concrete curb stop. She straightened up and stood.

“Tyche, you have to stop using 1940’s sayings ... that’s what got the looks.” She said, “I know you hold the experiences of generations of Flintkotes in your unconscious ... but they’re embarrassing you.”

Naomi was arguing with the last bunch about seating, “No ... that’s taken. You can’t sit there.”

She spoke in street Spanish, but I understood every word.

Hmmh ... I know another language ... well, of course I did ... the Boat Crew. I worked with them sometimes.

“It’s all right, Naomi ... we’ll just sit with them,” Two said ... and sat down.

That worked for a while ... and then wives and girlfriends drove up, piled out and came inside.

Tense ... just for a few. Besides English, Australian, Hebrew, and Suthern, Two speaks perfectly good Central American. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s Spanish. It’s not Spanish ... not as spoken in Spain. There’s been almost 600 years of modifying it to what’s spoken today.

There was a good bit of explaining and some men trying macho ... but ears were gripped and noses pinched and we had our table back.

First class ... and cheap. Not one of those fancy TEX-MEX restaurants ... the places packed to the rafters and a line of Gringos waiting for a seat. This was what the illegals were used to. As hot as you want and good!