Not your average joe
In my home city of Las Cruces, a decent cup of coffee is hard to come by. I usually have to buy beans in Burque and then wait until the weekend for my husband to make me some. I could drag my ass to the one good coffee house in town (actually in Mesilla), but it’s a 30-minute drive down the mountain into the valley, past four Starbucks, a craphole that always burns its beans and countless gas stations that offer a blend of the aforementioned choices. For this reason, I adore Albuquerque and its many brewed options.
Nursing It Back
Little Sir Dan, sat with his hands, aloft over keyboard with a frown. Along came his boss, and with a crumpled note he did toss, asking “Hey, we doing a Chowtown?!”