One stormy night as my grandmother, aunts and uncles all slept, my grandfather crept into the house with a dead cow.
He jostled my grandmother awake and told her to help him unsaddle his horse in the middle of a Mexican rain storm.
Afterwards, per usual, he demanded she remove his muddy boots.
What followed, however, was not usual.
After drying off he told my grandmother to skin the cow and cut it up for consumption, with no time to waste.
His intention, he said, was to take the meat to his mistress. He laughed at the humiliation of his demand. Read the rest of this entry