DAY 8, JUNE 6, 1993
(CHRIS) Today, after Mass, we go to Mexico for lunch and shopping, then see the ranch. Tomorrow we see the park that the U.S. government made out of their land. The farm was created by Patrick's grandfather around 1920--a real pioneer!The day was awesome, here on the border. Mass was a bit of a fiasco, but I'll let my Novus Ordo associates fill you in on that one lest I be too critical. Then we went across the border from Del Rio to a little tourist town in Mexico. Patrick and his brother Bill treated us to a real Mexican dinner at a nice restaurant. Then we walked the streets of the colorful town, checking out all the little shops. Matt bought a hammock and Jon some sandals, but none could be tempted by the $5 bottles of Tequila (with the worm, of course!). We escaped several aggressive salesmen, but not the border patrol on the way back. They searched a Zuberbueler car for the first time ever--must have been Jon's goatee! Finally, they let us go, but Patrick's fan belt blew out on the way back to Comstock at a little restaurant on 90 called Cripple Creek. (We saw no creek, though the heat and wind nearly crippled us.)
(SAM) The Final Summary:
Fun, fun, fun are the words that come to mind when I think of the Zuberbueler homestead, that and maybe Caca. Since Tex talks constantly but in a way such as never to be picked up on camera, he would like to fill in here:(TEX) Cadillac.
(SAM) Thank you Texas. You are an inspiration to us all.
Note-- Bill's name is spelt "Beul."
After big brother John Zub helped us fix the fan belt on Sunday, the sixth, we retreated from the heat to the Zub homestead.There we feasted on homemade cookies and Texas tea. After our R and R, Pat took us out to HQ. here we saw sheep, goats, rabbits, a horse that let us know what he thought of us, deer, and breeders which were used to make more sheep. Pat then took us to a ranch close by that they leased. The lady that owned this 8,000 acre ranch was trying to sell the land and the old house for one million buckaroos. The Zub's have been leasing it for a long time. We walked through the old house and Jon and I chased goats. Back at the Zub homestead Pat, began to BBQ Chicken for supper. We will get back to him.
Word was that Mrs. Z and Tex were to be home soon. In order to lend a helping hand, Chris, Jon, and I took Beulls truck to fetch some butter while Matt dialed 1 800 Christy, that's 1-800- C-h-r-i-s-t-y. Believe it or not, on the way to ye-old owls nest, a huge hairy terranchula tried to kill himself (or herself) by running under Beul's truck. But the quick eyed Jon stopped the truck and I ran back to the homestead. The courageous Pat rushed out armed only with a plastic jar. Once the nightmare was captured the blood rushed to our heads and out eyes began to twich. Chris, Jon, and I knew the terrible game was soon to live again. What would it take for Matt to eat this creature? Beads of swet rolled down our foreheads as Matt began to bargain. As it turned out he would only eat it if we let him kill it first. No dice. Meanwhile Mrs. Z and Tex came home. It was a happy reunion and life was good but supper was late. (Chris called Liz) We ate about 11:00, talked, had dessert, and devotions. Then we went to sleep, very content after an eventful day. What would tomorrow bring?