Just Call Me Honey

Last night some friends and I went to the annual Museum Mile Festival. This is where all the museums on Fifth Avenue from 82nd to 102nd have free admission with street performers and music on the streets. By the time we got there it was kinda late so we did not get to go inside the one museum I wanted to visit – The Met. Oh well I guess I can always go on my own one day. So we just loitered around checking out all the performers and listening to music.

Today for lunch I went to Honey’s. Well it really isn’t called that. No one here really knows what it is called. It doesn’t even have a sign – just a little chalkboard with the fare of the day in Spanish. My coworkers just call it that because the lady always asks “What you want honey?”. I guess it is a saying I am somewhat used to. It is a Mexican restaurant – well I don’t think I can even call it that. The place is smaller than some people’s closet – it just has a counter with maybe 3 stools. She really doesn’t speak English except for her greeting and you just point at the what you want. By the time I came out with my package and yes I am calling it a package because it had to weigh about 5 lbs by the time she plopped on the meat, beans, salad and rice. Now I usually don’t have problems finishing a meal in one sitting, but I had to throw in the towel half way thru and put the leftovers in the fridge. I guess I will be eating it again for dinner tonight. Not too bad for $5 I must say.