Before my stroke in February—two days prior to my hospitalization, when I think about it—I had a date with a woman at the Lucky Star Casino in Concho. We had been dating for a couple of weeks and it was a “make-it or break-it” thing.
Basically, it was my way to see if we had hit the jackpot. Sigh.
For dinner that night, we decided to dine at the casino, wanting to try their Indian Tacos. I had them, of course, but I don’t remember anything about them—and really anything about the date in general. In fact, I remember practically nothing about that night.