At Frida's

I haven't written for a couple of days. This is because I can now blog in bed; but the minute I climb into bed, get comfy and position the cutting board with the laptop on my lap... top, I fall asleep. Changing my life is tiring, it turns out. It's hard to find the whole adult education staff in the same place at the same time. Other jobs! Grad school! Sick kids! Wayward pets! Four of us managed to go for lunch at Frida's Bistro the other day.

I love this place. Mexican food with crazy twists. How often do I get to eat... uh... rats. (No, I'm saying "rats" in frustration! They don't serve rats! Yet.) The word is Nahuatl, not Spanish, so it slips my mind, but I'm a Wisconsinite. I know corn smut when I see it. Very tasty corn smut when eaten with a little pico de gallo.

The owner, Jorge Fierro, used to be a student in our program many years ago. He does so much for Guadalupe - so, we eat at Frida's and tell our friends.



Here is my mango habanero margarita. Although my friends laughed and called it "liquid chutney", I thought it was fun.

Here's Mel, wearing Becca's purple "Miss Piggy" elbow gloves.

And here's Becca wearing Becca's purple "Miss Piggy" elbow gloves. The devious look is intentional, but unremarkable. She always looks like that. She is probably thinking of a pun to match some of the ones we have been circulating lately.

Hey, Becca: A rubber band gun was confiscated from algebra class, because it was a weapon of math disruption.

We are ladies who care about our figures, so no way are we going to order dessert. No way! OK, you twisted our arms. But not a whole dessert... We ordered a tres leches and a flan; then we held our spoons in one hand (for the flan) and our forks in the other (for the tres leches) and dug in, per Martina's demonstration here. When it comes to dessert, we're ambidextrous.

We thought about taking a little detour over to Deseret Industries for some shopping, but we hung out at lunch so long, we thought we'd better not. Next time!