Christmas Vacation is half over. Tomorrow, we have to get up early to take the #1 son to basketball practice. The Pony and I are not looking forward to it.
The Pony has been scrubbing his 1500-year-old Roman coins. His old dirty Roman coins. #1 has been running a Simpsons Film Festival in his room. HH tells me I need a Garmin. Because I have such a poor sense of direction. That is true, but even a Garmin wouldn't help me.
HH had the idea to go out to dinner tonight. We went back to that new wings restaurant, and it was terrible. Third time ain't no charm at this place. HH told the waiter that last time he ordered the chicken and shrimp, he didn't get his slaw. The waiter said he should have. So the server brings out the food, and there is NO slaw. HH argued with him, and the server insisted that it didn't come with slaw. HH showed him on the menu. The server still said it didn't come with slaw. HH and the waiter looked it up. The waiter said he'd see to it that we got the slaw. Of course, then you wonder what that kid did to it back in the kitchen, seeing as how HE, not the customer or the menu, was always right. And while I'm reviewing the restaurant, make a note-to-self never to get the fish sandwich, because the fish is overcooked and crumbles like cornbread, the pickle is limp like it's been laying out on the counter all day, and the kids' mini corn dogs and fries looks like they were scraped out of the bottom of the Fry Daddy, and the chocolate cake is a combination of dry, powdery cake held together by brown glue. Seriously. That stuff would not even wipe off your hands WITH water. Oh, and they seated us at a table for six in the middle of the sardine can, with no room to breathe, and the setting sun shining directly in HH's face, because I refused to sit there. You'd think they could afford a shade for that door.
I don't think I'll go back there for a long time.
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