The weekend of the two Manuels

Due to what's been happening lately, I've come to dread the weekends. Much of it stems from the fact that I still love this person deeply and miss them terribly when they're not around, yet when we're around each other, I want to be somewhere else. Ah, sweet paradox...

Nobody ever promised me a rose garden or that love would be all sunshine and rainbows and lollipops, and please believe me when I say that this person is still my best friend in the whole wide world. Maybe that's what hurts so much, seeing someone you love suffering from heartache that's pretty much your doing. But God help me, I'm 36 and going through my second adolescence, unable to help myself as I demand more out of life. I'm sorry, but Loretta Lynn was right. "A woman can't help the way that she feels..."

So what's the solution? This weekend, it's been the air-conditioning, and the two Manuels.

Hoping to put a smile on our faces, on Friday we met up at the Cafe Vera Cruz down in the Bishop Arts District. Holy Christ. Let me set up the scene here. This place can seat up to 22 at full capacity, and the dining room is probably about as big as an average living room. Do yourself a favor and get there early so you won't have to wait outside in the heat, even though it's totally worth it when it's 105 in the shade and you'll leave feeling fully sated. The young man who greeted and waited on us - Manuel - was delighted to hear it was our first time there, so he laid it on thick. Bless him. Not only was it the best service I've ever had, it was also the best Mexican food I've had in ages, and I'm not exaggerating when I say this. It's not your typical Tex-Mex - and believe me, there's plenty of that on the menu - but when you're there, be sure to check out some of the other dishes, especially the chorizo and queso appetizer and the Carnale Borracho - tender steak smothered in a zesty cheese and tomato sauce, accompanied by fluffy Spanish rice and a fresh mixed green salad doused in a lime-avocado vinaigrette. The seafood I saw on other people's plates looked tremendous, too - generous in portion and quality, which we all know is a rarity these days. And shame on you if you pass up the Tres Leches cake - an overabundant slab of sponge oozing cream, chocolate and caramel, adorned with little slices of perky mango and dollops of whipped cream.

Another Manuel had quite a startling effect on us this weekend, too - Manuel the rodeo couturier. For 14 years, this Mexican-born genius worked under the tutelage of the other renowned rodeo tailor, Nudie Cohn, and later would go on to dress the likes of Elvis, Johnny and June, George Jones, the Flying Burrito Brothers and other musical luminaries too numerous to name. Bob Dylan was wearing a Manuel original when he met Pope John Paul II, and now the National Cowgirl Museum and Hall of Fame in Fort Worth is celebrating his righteous place in the fashion pantheon with the exhibit, Manuel: Star-Spangled Couture. It's a rollicking, rhinestone- and spangle-covered tribute to all 50 states in the union, lovingly executed and embroidered with mind-boggling detail. Also on display are the three outfits worn by Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt and Emmylou Harris on the cover of their 1987 album, Trio. Excellent stuff, except you can't get up too close for a good look without sounding an alarm. Don't let that discourage you, though - the docent in charge just laughed and alerted us that the laser beam gets a little cranky sometimes.

Don't we all.