That Ain't Fried Chicken/Brown or White Gravy?

   March 18th:  Yep...it was breaded, flat,  deep fried & served on a jumbo+ slice of white bread with white gravy, but they called it fried chicken. Baffled,  I shrugged, applied  A-1 Sauce and ate the  P-turkey out of it while watching south Tex. Halliburton oil workers jawing and forking in the food. Strange, but I've been pondering the relativity of fried chicken a good bit.

   Friday, March 20th, I think. The dates and places are muddled. Any how,

   Uvalde is where I had the head trip diabetes sugar low in the H.E.B.E 's parking lot & where Ann discovered Matthew Foxx vintage vino. That PM we spent the night at Garner St. Pk., 23 miles north. Great spot, but we weren't psyched about hiking & left left Sat., early, & pointed the bow toward Ft. Stockton Good Sam trailer park....a goofy spot out in the barren desert that stays busy 'cause there ain't nothing else available for a 100 mi. in any direction. Reportedly, Good Sam ain't no more and  the place needs a face lift.  When I pushed back the shower curtain the rod and curtain hit the deck and came apart. Oh well...the water was hot & they had either brown or white gravy for your mashed potatoes. I thought this was pretty dandy; the 'tators were good, as were the fresh green beans and BBQed pork with red, Tex. sauce (unlike eastern NC vinegar-based BBQ like I was teethed on.  Who cares, huh?

   Today, March 23rd:  Left Good Sams and beamed down at Hueco Tanks St. Historical Pk. out in the desert in the El Paso, Tex. quadrant. Now....this is a mind boggling site. We just got here and it's late & we're cooking burgers.  More later....