As much as I love spending time in El Paso, there always seems to be a day or two that I would rather be some place else. Any place else. Doesn’t much matter. Maybe it’s the question of being at work, or perhaps it’s the “tax holiday” that’s cut into the psychic fair business. But the dinner companions in El Paso sometimes make it really worth the trip. One night, Robin had a rather bit of heretic’s view about the music pouring out the speaker’s at the restaurant, “Only in Texas would they call that music.” Robin is from New Mexico — it was a Willie Nelson song. There was another bit of game, Mac (the Aura Photography guy) sent over a waitress to get her palm read. See, Mac had a groupie at this show, and the young lady didn’t appear to be old enough to drive. Anyway, the waitress comes over and says, “Here, Mac said you could read my palm.” The message inked on her palm was “Oh Baby.” We conferred and sent a message back, on her other palm, “Jailbait.” I must admit, the waitress was a good sport. Maybe I need an underage groupie — to further embarrass him as much as possible every available female stopped by his table to let Mac know they were interested in another naked full body massage, “Just like last weekend.” I never did get the full details from Mac as to what really transpired. The local population doesn’t see the corollary, but there’s been precipitation in El Paso every weekend we’ve been here, for the last two years now. I often compare astrology to weather forecasting, a West Texas weatherman once made note of that fact in the ten o’clock weather forecast in LubbocK or Amarillo, but in a town that averages 4 events a year, and six inches of rain in a year, and to have four of those six inches when we’re all in town, I would begin to see a pattern. It’s been like this for three years or so. Of course, it could just be me.