By Ms. Teri
Years ago, I spent some time as the feature editor at a small-town Texas newspaper. I grew up in Florida so it was fun to pick up stakes and move to the bigger, broader, taller-tale-d flatlands of Texas. I still miss the barbeque and Tex-Mex restaurants there that served platters of food for one that would feed an entire herd of cowboys.
Every Friday night after work, a group of us would head out to a finger-lickin’, butt-kicking bar to toss back a few margaritas and some ribs. One night, my friend Laura had way too many margaritas and started telling funny stories about her husband. When the waitress brought our chips and guacamole, she brought a bowl of jalapeño peppers. I had never heard of jalapeños let alone tasted one, but I had had enough margaritas to bravely try one. That was my first mistake. My eyes were watering, my mouth was burning and my stomach felt like it was on fire. It was all I could do to sit there and pretend nothing was going on. I needed another margarita, fast!