Mi Rodeo

As I have already revealed, I am studying Spanish and have been since at least November 2020. Today I finally found some use for it. I was sitting in a Mexican restaurant (code-name: Mi Rodeo) with Nuria and I was reading the menu. The waiter stopped at my table and placed appetizers on the table. I looked straight at the waiter and said, "Gracias." He replied, "De nada." First contact: successful. 

After this exchange, I was feeling smug, so when the waiter stopped again to take my meal order, I leaned back and said, "Pollo Loco." He went away and a while later he came back with a plate of food. While the food was completely unidentifiable to me, I had no doubt that, in this establishment, it was called "Pollo Loco", which is Spanish for "Crazy Chicken." Or, perhaps in these more socially correct times, this menu item is now called "Pollo Con Problemas Mentales." Whichever, it's okay with me. I just want lunch.

I came home and saw my neighbor in his yard. He is Egyptian and has been renting the house next to mine for several years. I walked over to him and chatted for a while. He has a thick accent and I can understand about one third of what he says. He told me he bought the house he has been renting. He bought it last month. He told me a lot of other things, but because of his accent, I missed most of what he said to me. Finally, he asked me if I understood him. I replied, "No." He laughed and threw up his arms, then he turned and walked away.

So I went back to what I had been doing, which was putting air in my Jeep's tires. The front tires needed no air, one rear tire needed one or two pounds, and the other rear tire needed 10 pounds. That one might have a nail in it. I'll have to keep an eye on it. Also, I'll buy a can of Fix-A-Flat, just in case. 

I try to publish blog articles more often than I succeed in doing, but the time really does fly. I spend two to four hours a day studying Spanish, and I feel I'm getting nowhere. Oh, I understood the waiter when he said "De nada," but that isn't a conversation. I'll never be fluent in Spanish, so I don't know why I'm studying it. Many years ago, a woman who was supposedly a psychic told me I had lived previously as a Spanish landowner. I shrugged. I don't know, but why not? It's as probable as living a life in America, or anywhere else. I've always felt, going back to at least age six, that I had lived somewhere before I was born. In other words, I felt that I existed long before my birth. Sometimes, I felt I could almost remember that place, but in the end I could never recall it. But I still remember vividly the feeling that I existed before my birth, before my entry into this lifetime. It wasn't something I made up, and I never discussed it with anyone. But I felt it very strongly.

It's 6PM on this Tuesday after Labor Day. On the short list of Things-To-Do, I have to add motor oil to my Jeep, check the transmission fluid and coolant level, and do a few other simple things before Friday. I will be driving Nuria to the airport on Friday morning for her return trip to Costa Rica. I'll miss her. 

[Note: Unbeknownst to me, a small part of this blog post was accidentally published on Sunday, September 5. That partial post was replaced by this post published on Sept 7.]