Photo Essay: Burt Gummer, Where are You?

After binge watching all 5 Tremors movies on Netflix,

I felt the cinder block walls of my apartment closing

in on me. Time to get out and hunt down some grub!

That's what Burt Gummer would do.

I see people are taking my lemon bars.

I made them from scratch this morning

and put them out in the back lobby with a 

card inviting anyone/everyone to have a piece.

As of 3:30 this afternoon there were only 3

pieces left.

Outside in the street there's this abandoned

sandwich board.

It's been there for two weeks now,

and I'm tempted to snag it for myself.

There's always something you can do

with a good sandwich board.

Ain't nature grand?

Walking east on 100 North. The wind is

as bitter as my ex-mother-in-law.

What does a giant rooster have to do with

a pawn shop? These are the kinds of 

mysteries that make walking fun.

The Pest House, where I used to work.

Ah, if I remember correctly, this place

serves up some good roast beef.

The place is pretty much deserted at 2 p.m.

on a Friday afternoon.

I ordered something called

'Frejol con Seco.'

Basically, pot roast supposedly bathed

in a rich cilantro sauce. I saw no

sign of any cilantro sauce, but the beef

went down well with the rice and some

mild salsa verde.

.

I reckon I'll come back here again the next time

I want a substantial cut of beef. I see they

have bistec con pappas fritas on the menu.

Stopped at Fresh Market on my way home for

a can of creamed corn. I'm gonna make fiesta

cornbread tomorrow morning, with a cheddar

cheese topping. I'll eat a big piece for breakfast,

and then leave the rest out in the lobby for 

whoever wants some.

Friday night is closing in on me, just like

the cinder block walls did earlier.

I don't feel very happy, not even with a belly

full of pot roast.

It's hell being all alone sometimes --

tonight I don't think I can be much

of a survivalist.

Burt Gummer, where are you when I need you?