We were supposed to be down in the Old Pueblo today for the annual Tucson Festival of Books but, like everything else in our world lately, it has been cancelled.
Went to the grocery store yesterday and parked farther from the front door than I ever have in 35 years of living out here. Bashas' was crowded but not slammed and there were some outages (bananas and booze) but it was not a melee or anything out of control. Still, every checkout lane was full. Then tried to drive home but the washes on Cahava Ranch were running deep and strong from the rain and nobody, including, our fearless UPS driver, dared cross. So I went back up town and got a happy ending, I mean a massage. Well, not that kind, but, you know.
"So what can a poor boy do, 'cept to play in a rock 'n' roll band?"
Kathy is spending her quarantine time on the Goose Garden. Our kids call us the Gooses, as a derivation of Mother Goose. Anyway, Kathy is keeping busy in the breezeway.
On the Pendejo front, I am still trying to find this trickster's visage. I know he's a total jag, as we used to say in college.