Randomly Random

There are tons of great restaurants out there, with excellent food.  What gets me coming back, besides a superb artichoke snapper, is the service. It's the little things, like how fast I'm seated, and how quickly after I am seated does a waiter show up, and whether they know the best wine to serve with snapper.  But I have a dark secret:  I am a sucker for an obsequious waiter.  I adore them.  My ice cold heart melts a little inside when I get that kind of fawning attention.  It is nice to have someone fussing over you every now and then.  Oh, I am sure that if I had it all the time, it would get on my nerves and I would hate it.  But for the duration of my meal, to have someone hovering and seeming to cater to my whims makes me smile. 

I got this fortune in a fortune cookie, and I really like it.  Heroes don't have to look like Bruce Campbell and fight a zombie horde created from an evil book, but that's what we expect.  Look what that kind of pressure did to Lance!


I went to eat by myself the other day, because I've heard that most people would rather have root canal than eat by themselves.  I decided to test that theory.  Not my usual fast food drive-through experience, but an actual sit down restaurant.  I sat in the middle of the room with my back to the door, which is so completely unlike me.  I went completely out of character!  It was interesting.  Lots of men dine alone in restaurants, I've observed, but not many women.  Why is that?  Is it because eating is so closely tied to socializing?  I thought that I would feel uncomfortable.  After the initial once-over by the other patrons, I was left alone with my thoughts, which were on...queso.  But I refrained, and had the much healthier salsa with my chips.  I did not feel rushed by anyone, I read a few emails on my phone, and just enjoyed the moment. 

I have a dirty mind, people tell me.  They are probably right. I've been told that this means that I am a closet Freudian, but I just think that my mind likes to wander in that direction because it's usually a more interesting place.  When people say things that my mind considers off color, whether it was intended so or not, I want to giggle.  If what is said is actually meant to be off color?  I might actually laugh.  Out loud.  Sometimes I can cover that with a cough or two, but my son wasn't born yesterday.  He always wants to know why I am laughing, and I am sure not going to tell him.  I had to figure all that double entendre' out for myself.  Kids today have it easy!

I am thinking about going to one of the board meetings for our subdivision.  Why would I subject myself to such a horrible cesspool of political intrigue(second only to the average PTA)?  Because I think they should install speed bumps on the street that intersects mine.  It's a straight road, with enough time to build up speed before you hit a sharp right, and people speed.  How do I know that people speed?  Easy--dead animals.  If you are going the speed limit, like you are supposed to, you should have enough time to hit the brakes and avoid hitting Mr. Kitty or Rocky Raccoon.  Every time I see a dead animal in the middle of the road, I start thinking that that could have been a child, or an old person, and I don't want that.  Well, there are certain people that I think deserve to be run over in the street, but those are my little day dreams when I'm frustrated.  



 I am visiting Stacy at Stacy Uncorked today.  Go visit her, because she is awesome!

This Is Why I Never Like to Go Out

We decided to have dinner at our favorite Mexican food restaurant. The moment we sat down, Zane announced the he had to use the facilities. My husband announced that it was "my turn". I have no idea by what process a parental 'turn' is determined, but I have learned not to argue.

Zane ran ahead of me and down the little hallway where the bathrooms are. I followed. Zane opened the door to the first room and went in in. I followed, talking to Zane the whole time about staying with me and not running ahead like that, and then two things happened in EXTREME slow motion as I was halfway into the room.

First, I noticed that the sign on the door said "Caballeros", and the tiny refrigerator light in my head went on about five seconds after that as to what that word meant. Second, I saw a man in the room I was about to enter. Lucky for me, he had his back to the door. (there's really not any kind of face-saving comment if he had been turned any other way, is there?)

I think I turned about 72 different shades of red(it was REALLY slow motion!) and backed out of the room, apologizing the whole time. Then I had to stand outside of the room and try to get Zane to come out of there, too. The man in the bathroom was polite, and offered to help, and that was all it took for Zane to open the door and exit.

We moved on. I checked, then checked again, that this next door did NOT say "Caballeros". It did not. Zane and I went into this room, and I locked the door. Zane pulled down his pants, and was trying to pee like he always does--standing up. Except that this bathroom only had a toilet that was the correct height for a person in a wheelchair, not the correct height for a 3 year old who wants to pee standing up. I had a chance to notice that Zane's planned trajectory would not reach the correct landing, and I did what any other completely oblivious mother would do.

"Zane, stop!" Zane did not stop. Zane did, however, turn toward the sound of his mother's voice. And peed all over my shoes, as well as the floor, in the process. I grabbed Zane and sat him on the toilet. He protested, but I tersely pointed out that he was too short and there wasn't a step stool in this bathroom. At this point, someone knocked on the door to indicate that they also needed the facilities, increasing my general sense of panic. While Zane finished up, I grabbed as many paper towels as I could and cleaned up as much as I could(Praise God for the pocket version of Clorox wipes!). Then I washed my feet, then my hands, then I helped Zane wash his hands, then I had to wash MY hands again. Then we had to use a ton of paper towels to clean up THAT mess. Or rather, I had to clean up the mess; Zane had moved on to trying to unlock the door so he could leave the bathroom.

When the two of us finally got back to our table, Larry asked us what took so long. So I punched him right in the face. Okay, I only did that in my head. I actually only glared at him.

But if I had punched him, it would have been totally justified.