dream #3

It bugs me when people don't have well defined dreams.

Having a beautiful home with a dashing husband and obedient children seems lazy.

I truly admire big dreamers—people who weave details into the fabric. Tell me you want to concoct the recipe for the best chocolate chip oatmeal cookie. Tell me it's your lifelong goal to visit every national park in California. Tell me you want to try every flavor of chewing gum or have a picnic on the fourth of July on the banks of the Mississippi. It's refreshing meeting someone with a well-thought out dream. I'm able to believe it more. I can visualize it actually happening.

Maybe I'm being too nit-picky?

I map out my dreams.
I toss them around like a fresh summer salad every now and then. Latest tossing session happened Monday at 3:25 pm on-board the 811 somewhere on the backroads of American Fork, UT.

I made a list. a list of dreams. this post is about dream #3.

One day, I want to open a Mexican restaurant in Provo.
I'm calling it, "H_______"
(It's a really good name. i promise. so good i want to keep it under wraps.)

No offense to Provo, but I have yet to taste good authentic Mexican food restaurant. A restaurant with a menu filled with recipes that you know has been handed down from generations filled with the secret ingredients of Tia Maria, Abuela Juana, and Prima Margarita.
A restaurant with the kind of food that's made with love.

We'll have homemade flour tortillas.
Saturday tamale specials. The freshest onion you could ever imagine. salsa so flavorful your mouth waters just thinking about it. mini tres leches cakes for anyone celebrating an extra special occasion.

example:




& i'll have really cool prints hanging on the walls like:
1.


via.

&2.

via.

and we'll have tables that make you feel like you're at a home south of the border & look like this:

via.