Fun Las Vegas, Nevada Holes-in-the-Wall!

Las Vegas's hidden Cornish Pasties shop!

Since I choose to eat a breadless diet, I ordered some mushroom/spinach/walnut soup. Yep, folks, walnuts in soup! 

Go ahead! Throw some in your next soup bowl and see how you like it! (You won't know unless you try.)

My son Brian (pictured with his cute wife, Aspen) found it from an online recommendation by my husband's cousin, Debbie Bahlmann Bagley, who was born in England. (That girl knows her pasties!)

The walls had interesting historic pictures of miners from the 1800's. Some of the more sobering showed boys who looked to be no older than 8 or 9 with black mine dust on their faces and clothes, staring solemnly at the camera. It was certainly a different time, different traditions back then.

One thing I recall from learning about pasties is that they were intentionally made with one thick roll of baked dough on a side that the hungry worker could hold onto like a handle while the meat and vegetable filling was eaten with the rest of the crust. Then, I suppose, the handle was eaten, too.

Of course we shared tastes of all our food! 

Do you like to try new food?

Or are you happy with the tried-and-true dishes that you already love? 

Going Chinese!

I got free soup at a Chinese restaurant because the waiter brought the wrong kind. He just gave it to me, "flee of chalge."

I also had bananas fried dough (what were they called?) Yummy bananas!

I also had seaweed salad, and it wasn't slimy! It was even kind of crunchy. Yes, it did taste like seaweed, but not too much. I only looked over my shoulder for the ocean once. 

Spring rolls. They tasted good, but they had chewy cabbagey chopped up inside that was kind of hard to chew. I actually dipped the spring rolls in the seaweed salad sauce as much as the yellow sauce that they came with.

The bananas were the best, IMHO. (Do you know what that means? "In My Humble Opinion." Or it could mean "I Make Hot Oatmeal."

What would you say it means?

(And which of these foods would you like the best?)

May I Sit Here?

I was only looking for some human company at a craft fair when I carried my bowl of soup to an empty table, then glanced at the next table where a lady was filling foam bowls with soup from a quart jar for her two sons. I had opted to buy a single bowl of soup, not only to help the fund-raising dance troop that was selling it, but to help my empty stomach as well. "May I sit with you?" I asked the woman.

She looked up, her blue eyes round with surprise. Then her face softened into a slightly crooked smile. "Certainly," she said. "I'm Kathy."

"Thank you. I'm Shirley." I set my soup and breadsticks down and pulled up a chair. Just then, her husband, Kerry, came to the table with a loaf of bread from the food counter. I introduced myself. The first thing he said was, "Would you like some bread?"

I indicated my stiff breadsticks, which didn't look nearly as fresh and nice as his thick fluffy slices. "I've already got some," I said. As I ate, I found that if I dipped my breadsticks in my soup, they were more palatable and really quite filling.

My dinner companions and I talked about where we were from, how we enjoyed the craft fair, and what we did. I never expected Kerry to make me cry. As a home health nurse, he told me of a 106 year old man he'd taken care of for eleven years. "You get attached to them," Kerry said. "It's hard to see them go." His voice wobbled, and he picked up a napkin and dabbed his eyes. He went on to mention a pair of brothers with muscular dystrophy. "They depend on me," he said. "I get them up, get them washed, dressed, and fed. They can't do any of that for themselves. The older brother, well, when he turned 20, he said to his mother, 'I'm not a teenager any more, Mom.' That made her cry, because neither of her sons were expected to live past 20."

"How old is he now?" I asked.

"Twenty Four. He likes to listen to music. It's all he can do to push the button." Kerry made his hand into a claw shape. "He gets as close to the stereo as he can, then he reaches out and pushes at that button as many times as it takes to turn the stereo on." Kerry made jabbing motions with his clawed hand, then shook his head. "He loves music. He's an amazing kid."

I stared into Kerry's eyes. "I'm so glad you care so much for them. They're lucky to have you."

Kerry's eyes filled with tears that escaped his eyes as he said, "I'm lucky to work with them. I love my job. It's just so hard, because I get attached to them."

Things were getting misty, and I blinked. Things seemed so much clearer now. For the past few weeks, I'd bemoaned many facets of my life, a life that now bloomed as a spectacularly blessed one. What a selfish outlook I'd been harboring. Then along came this saintly man, caring for people who would die without help for the simplest tasks, things that I took for granted every morning. I blinked again and said, "You make such a difference in the world. And you've just told me what I desperately needed to hear. Thank you for letting me sit by you."

I placed my hand over his in farewell, said goodbye to his wife and sons, and, walking on my own legs, my flexible hands obeying every signal from my brain, I went to throw my soup bowl away.