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With El Rio Grande's fajitas you never know what you are going to get. Kind of like Forrest Gump's proverbial box of chocolates. Tonight's Mexican meal was exceptionally good. The chicken was tender and the veggies were crisp and fresh. There were ample amounts of tart and tangy fajita sauce as well. Most weeks it is mediocre fare with something wrong and awry with every meal.
Well, mom came pulling up in front of my house. I was on the kitchen computer as I am still wrangling with it -- whipping it into shape. Maggie went apeshit bananas in a good way so I knew somebody good had stopped by. Mom was not about to get out of the car and walk across my yard, though. She handed me my Mexican meal through her rolled down window.
"I am afraid I will fall on your steps," mom said in-between saying, "Hey baby doll! Hey, my baby Maggie!"
Maggie was just on the other side of my screen door joyously barking her fool head off as my mother egged her on. Maggie also got the rice, beans, and cheese so she will soon be emitting noxious, silent, but deadly gasses in a few days.
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