El Paso, Texas
It has only been a short time since Fred and I moved away from Wistful Vista, to El Paso, but we already miss you, Abel, and the girls plenty. I have not made my rhubarb-apple pie yet because I have been feeling a bit down. Fred does not like the other men at his new job, so he spends a whole lot of time, when he’s home just angrily rocking. If you recall, Fred has the very same rocker as Abel does and the sound is making me bananas.
The Texas Governor declared that no masks are necessary, but to be safe, I wear one, anyway, when I go outside. Fred wears a mask day and night, even during sleep, because he says he doesn’t want to take foolhardy chances with a tricky virus that might sneak up and descend on him during the nighttime. I feel that the Texas Governor must have decided that masks are not necessary, because in Texas, most men (and some women) wear very big, wide-brim cowboy hats, chew tobacco and spit, which makes legally required distancing rules, unnecessary. I am unhappy that Fred’s mask doesn’t lower the volume on his loud snoring. We bought a big new hound, named Elvis, who barks too much, and two chickens named Ms. Henrietta and Mr. Purvis who keep wandering off. We are still boiling our drinking water.
Fred’s usual heartburn is worse than ever. He always gasps and shifts around in his rocking chair like a man with mean hemorrhoids. I always tell him to lay off the chicken-fried steaks with barbeque sauce and the Tex-Mex chili, but he doesn’t listen and usually picks up that stuff for dinner at one or another, of the many neon-lighted drive-in Barbeque Restaurants, on the Texas State highway.
I do like the local Church and its Preacher, Reverend Zebulon Oxcart, but Fred says that sleeping Sunday mornings was far better at our old Church back in Wistful Vista. Also, this Church choir sounds more like Dolly Parton, Willie Nelson, or maybe Gene Autry, instead of true down-home religious. I was very disappointed that our new Church does not also have a geranium committee, but still, there are many pretty Texas Bluebonnets growing just outside the main Church entrance, up close to the oil rig.
The Church always holds regular monthly dances, even during the pandemic, but for now, only virtually. It is fun to see each couple plus the dance band (fiddler and squeeze-box player), in separate little boxes on the television screen. Fred could never do the Texas two-step due to his dependence on his cane.
Well, that is all for now. I miss you, Abel and the girls, so let’s keep writing.