Pops, the pups and I took a nice hike today on the Tesuque trail, ogling fall colors (yes, I took the cliche 'carpet of leaves' close-up with my BlackBerry camera phone) and the fresh powdering of snow from last night's mega storm that sent my cat running under the covers for fear of total annihilation. On the way there dad decided he needed some fuel, so we stopped by
Blake's Lotaburger for a bacon/egg/hash brown/green chili breakfast burrito (I had the poor guy hold the cheese so I could take a few bites... selfish, I know.) Now let me tell you, I wasn't hungover this morning. Not in the slightest. Not even one sip of
Santa Fe Pale Ale consumed last night. But, my god, if you're ever in Santa Fe nursing a head splitting alcoholic miasma, please do yourself a favor and get this stuffed tortilla manna from heaven. After four days spent in Portland last weekend drinking my weight in micro-brews and reasonably priced vodka soda's (only $4?! Are you North Westerners insane?! Are your beards and too-tight skinny jeans stifling your Capitalistic good sense?!), it was like erasing every last sip. Just five bites of this burrito worked like a sponge on the ole liver. I feel reborn. I feel replenished. I feel sober... I also felt a bit queasy, having just returned to occasional meat-eating. But, man, was it worth it.
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