In observation of Cinco de Mayo, some music from a Mexican musician you may have heard of, Carlos Santana, playing along with his buddy from across the pond. Seems the Brit, while he can certainly kill it on guitar, just doesn’t have the feel for maracas. You have to have it in your blood.

Like the Owens family. Don’t be misled by the Welsh name. Mine used to be Esperanza. Cindy and I are both half-Mexican, making our children the same. And Gabriel, he’s darker than Micah anyway.

See my post “Searching for Rolled Tacos in Ohio” for more. We won’t have tacos tonight—we’ll have to wait till our trip to Arizona where we hope to get Micah a tan—but homemade (sort of) tostadas. If you haven’t had them before, we should have you over for tostada night sometime.

I’ll play some Latinish music for you on the piano and maybe get out my Spanish guitar and do my best Santana impression (as on his “Maria Maria”). I’ll be careful not to sing you any Enrique Iglesias numbers.

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