Tales of the Wet Burrito

A lot can happen in a short amount of time.

A lot can happen in a large amount of time.

And sometimes nothing happens at all.

There, my friends, you have the sum total of my experience back here in my home town for the last twenty-four hours.

The flight was uneventful, as most of them are.  Manchester to O'hare to Tulsa.

My rental car is a cherry-red PT Cruiser.  I always seem to wind up with a cherry-red PT Cruiser.  Since they're kind of on the economic endangered-species list I suppose it's good I've had a chance to experience them but it's still creepy, nonetheless.

My sister and I surprised my Dad with it.  She hopped out of the car and convinced him it was her new ride - and that he'd like her new driver even more - that's when I stepped out.

It was a chance to get my sister and Dad's wife in the same room, which has not happened too often - if at all.  

There are some advantages to living a thousand miles away, I suppose.

The city is much, much larger than before - I think the term is "matastisized".  My sister drove me out along Riverside drive, which runs twice - twice - as far as it did back in the day.

And it ended in a casino - a massive structure run by the Creek tribe that officially opens on Saturday.  My sister has been in it.  Like me she's  moderate gambler, which means she's generally a successful gambler.

My mother played Cherokee Bingo for years and there are many stories attached to it, none of which I can find time to go into here.

Dinner was based on my deciding what food I most missed - besides grits it was real Mexican.  Since my sister taught a lot of really great Hispanic families we wound up a El Rio Verde - home to the famous Wet Burrito.

This was a honking big burrito, filled, in my case, with chorizo and smothered with salsa, guacamole and sour cream.

Hence the term "wet".

I also had some of the best red beans and rice I've had in a decade or more - at least in Portland.

This is not something to be ashamed of - chili and hearty soups are very much part of New England cuisine.  Still, people in Tulsa have found uses for chili that New England can only dream of.

I'm struck by the changes and by the things that have stayed the same.  The city has a strange feel to it, there is a lot more clear space where there once were houses.  The network of highways has carved new vistas to see the city - but taken away so much of the quality of the space.

I don't think I could live here like this - too much is spread out from the center of the city.  There are so many stores, so many enterprises at work.  I'm told that the recession is having much less of an effect here - but that may come at a price.

I'd write more but I'm tired and my other, older sister, is going in for surgery tomorrow to work on her hand.  Don't know what's going to happen.  Strange that a few day's getaway is turning out that way.

Later I'll write about rain, tears, and praying for the late, great Harry Sebran