Prickly Pear Margaritas and Bull What?

Homemade cards and backyard BBQs in the warm desert evenings gave way to carefree dinners where all we had to do was eat and pay the check. I have plenty of Mother’s Day memories because after all, I’ve got a few of those special days under my belt. Who would have thought my favorite Mother’s Day memory would surround prickly pear margaritas and bull’s balls? On one particular Mother’s Day a number of years ago when Al asked where I’d like to go for dinner I told him El Corral. It’s a steakhouse restaurant in Tucson that’s been around forever and I’ve always loved the vibe there. It’s so Tucson and the restaurant is very western and housed in a historic territorial ranch house.

So arrangements were made and each of my kids were told when to show up and that they were welcome to bring their significant others along if they didn’t have plans of their own. As you can imagine, the restaurant was packed. The management had opened a quaint, little rustic building across the parking lot for guests to wait in and enjoy a cocktail or two. The Mother’s Day special was a prickly pear margarita and the occasion called for a little bit of imbibing. If memory serves me correctly I don’t think my youngest was quite of legal drinking age yet but she and her boyfriend were being served (Oh, my bad. Am I not supposed to admit that?) Soon enough (and after a round or two) the eight of us were ushered in to the restaurant and given a nice table. It was a celebration so naturally….another round! We had such a great time laughing, telling stories and enjoying our time together. Food and appetizers were ordered and when the appetizers came out and were plunked down on the table we all froze. There they sat all breaded and hot with lemons and dipping sauces.

Rocky Mountain Oysters. Cattle testicles. Bull balls. More laughter, plenty of dares and jokes but we all ate them, or at least had one bite. Then we had our delicious meals of prime rib, steaks and blue corn tamale pie. When dinner was nearing an end we ordered one last round when our waiter told us they could no longer serve us. Wait, what? We were being cut off? In all truthfulness we seriously only had three drinks each TOPS and they were probably just trying to turn the table over but we thought it was riotously funny. So my best Mother’s Day memory is of high hilarity, being refused drinks and bull balls. Beat that!

A Quiet Victory

I got home Saturday night after my daughter’s Cinco de Mayo party and grabbed the mail out of the mailbox. After fawning all over my two wiggly Labs who in their minds hadn’t seen me since last year, I shuffled through the envelopes. My monthly statement from the good old IRS was there. You see, a number of years ago Al and I were really stupid and had a few tax issues that finally caught up to us and we were paying them in monthly installments. Car payment sized installments to be honest. I think we only started our payment plan about a year before Al passed away. For a variety of reasons for the past two years I’ve had some fairly large tax refunds owed to me. But I owe them. You guessed it, they take my refunds. I knew they’d do it again this year and that when they did, it would finally pay off my debt. So when I opened that envelope to see the words “Amount Due: $0.00” it wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise is how it messed with my emotions. I was really happy and even held the statement towards the sky and said out loud, “We did it honey! Finally! We did it and can start seeing some light at the end of the tunnel.”

And then it hit me. This was a shared victory that only I could celebrate. It hurt that Al wasn’t here to feel that same relief and sense of accomplishment. To see that statement and give me one of those giant bear hugs of his. So like a bitter pill that will make you feel better in the long run, I swallowed it up. And I started to think about what I’ve been able to do on my own. There was nothing when Al passed. No savings, no retirement fund, no little pot of gold life insurance policy. Just a lot of debt. We’ve always been paycheck to paycheck people and I really didn’t know how I was going to do this in the beginning. But I did it. Me. All by myself. Me, who had previously only been on my own for less than six months between moving out of my parents home and in to a place with two friends after graduating from high school. I did this. I pay my mortgage every month; I worry every month as I figure out how I’m going to pay my bills but I do it. And now I can look ahead and use that money I pay out to the IRS every month and start paying down other bills.

Maybe I’ll be able to breathe a little easier. Maybe I’ll be able to buy a car eventually and be able to make the payments without struggling. Maybe that light at the end of the tunnel just got a little brighter. Maybe that light was always there but I kept closing my eyes. They’re open now. Wide open.