A long way home!

A great end to a long road trip from Tennessee to California with my grandpa. It included, but was not limited to, an unforgettable range of foods—from the smoky barbecue of Tennessee to the comforting, home-cooked meals made by my abuelita, lovingly known as “Grandma Pancakes.” This particular bowel movement reflects two distinct tones. First, a dark matter—rich in color, like the deep brown of aged leather or a classic Porsche—escaped the bowl with a stately presence, enclosing both ends of this glorious movement. Then came the second tone: a spicy, almost reddish hue, trapped within the nucleus of this nearly sentient formation. It delivered a jolt of discomfort paired with undeniable satisfaction upon exit, creating a mesmerizing color shift in the water where it settled. This portion of the secretion—yes, I say secretion, thanks to the sheer Scoville-unit toxicity involved—was born from two back-to-back meals at Mrs. Pancakes. Both meals featured authentic New Mexican cuisine, complete with a scrumptious homemade chili sauce infused with the finest cuts of beef. These harmonized explosively with the monstrous injection of barbecue, from mouth to the iron cavern of my gut. Candidly, this stands as one of the most monumental, mythical movements of my life.