One of the benefits of living in a small rural farming community is being able to walk places. So what? You snort dismissively. So a lot; just you try and walk somewhere in one of America’s metrosprawls. 
“I know,” you think to yourself, “I’ll walk to the shops.” Think again, your city isn’t built for walking or even for humans, it’s built for cars instead.
The Broken Debris of Obama’s America
That’s not so true in older country towns, which were designed on a more human scale, and I like to take advantage of that, strolling out to the local Pick ‘n Steal with Blue Defender after Morning Prayer. Or, for that matter, to Montes Mexican Diner.
This isn’t Cheshire
I went down the latter route the other day, offering up the members of the congregations in prayer as I walked along the leafy boulevards of Olde Texas. 
A Typical Shack
Perhaps that sounds overly pious to you but I find walking and prayer tend to go together. There’s something in it that stills the mind.

This isn’t Kent
That said, there’s plenty of mental space to take in the sights and reflect on the fact that this is Texas, opposed to Kent or even Cheshire. Then you arrive at Montes and everything’s good. 
I ordered Huevos Rancheros, I always do, it’s a tradition.
Was I armed? Maybe.