The Tale of the Taco Part 1

I'm off my crazy makeup rant...for now. In the meantime I will share a story.


My neighborhood is a little bit of a hodgepodge.
Actually, it's a big hodgepodge.

Its heyday was in the building boom of the 70's, so many of the houses reflect that. But this place is not a subdivision.
It's like a bunch of people (people with varying tastes in architecture) bought individual plots of land and built what they liked on it.
The previous owner of my house wanted to have the largest split-foyer house in the county.

Totes groovy. 

He succeeded in his goal, but, needless to say, we've renovated, removed shag carpeting, and made it a more appealing place to live.

Oh, I'm going off on a tangent already...I'll wrap this up.

Anyways, you have your McMansions, your horse farms, you have "normal people" ...and you have the grocery store.
This grocery store is painted vibrant shades of blue and yellow, covered in Spanish signs.
It proudly sits at the entrance of my neighborhood. It's the landmark we use when telling people how to get to our house.
...It's a recent acquisition.
And when I say "grocery store", I actually mean renovated gas station that doesn't sell gas anymore.

I'm sure that my next-door neighbor who calls us to complain about how we trim our hedges is thrilled about this.

Like I said, my neighborhood is an eclectic place.

In the days before this store's blue-and-yellow glory, when it was but a lowly beige gas station, my sisters and I called it the "choo-choo store".
Why?
Because
A) little kids like silly repetitive names for things. A train was only fitting.
and
B) because we bought many a pack of gum there with dad after a Saturday of picking up sticks. [Maybe chew-chew was what we actually meant...who knows?]



All of this typing and I haven't gotten to the point yet.
I think this post is long enough as it is.


This tale is to be continued...