When family is in from out of town, the convergence is always at Carlos O'Brien's. I have no idea how this was decided, but it's been the case for about twenty years. Each time, I ask myself: why? Why Carlos? This is the blandest, most generic Mexican food you can find. These are native Arizonans, in from the east, and that is where they go.
That's my dad in the photo, presiding over his siblings.
Tonight I found out that one of my relations (by marriage...) is suffering from advanced syphilis and as such is or was the dubious darling of Barrow because they were so excited at the opportunity to study him irls, as it were. His brain is damaged beyond all repair - cases like this don't just grow on trees anymore. I guess he was such a badass mountain man that he simply refused to acknowledge or treat his condition, and now he's dying like Baudelaire, but more slowly.