COMING HOME Day 31: May 22, 2013 Las Vegas, NM is a poor place to have breakfast in. I had to settle for the “free pottage” offered by the motel. It consisted of a stale biscuit and some thin gravy with no tabasco sauce, a hard-boiled egg of questionable origin, a few of those tofu sausages, some sour orange juice and a cup of bad coffee. If those motel breakfasts were part of a regular diet regimen it would provide women, little children and sissies with a cast iron constitution. I already have mine and can choke down about anything, but prefer a tasty stack of blueberry pancakes with some strawberries on top. I got my cast iron constitution from years of overindulgence in cheap whiskey and bad chili. It has served
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