Yeah, it was like that...
Em and Big Ed dropped in last night and asked if I was interested in going out to dinner. Since Rick and Chuck were off to some sort of charitable computer event (something about giving computers to women leaving jail - I'm assuming it was to reward a firm purpose of ammendment and not to enable them to expand any criminal ambitions into the electronic realm.), Eddie had grabbed a Hot Pocket* and I was going to have some pudding and go to sleep at 7:00pm, their offer was appealing. In fact, my stomach having settled down around 6:00pm, the thought of something more than scintillating conversation was becoming increasingly desirable.

They chose a restaurant that I had only heard of (there are a lot of those these days). My only request was for a place that offered French Onion soup. (I've been taking a variety of prescriptions that leave me feeling chronically queasy, sort of a low-grade morning sickness feeling which is the one part of motherhood for which I have no nostaligic feelings. I'm thinking back to that summer before Eddie was born when I was constantly in search of the perfect bowl of soup.) Ed ordered some sort of rib plate, remarking that it couldn't possibly be what the description said. It was.
Like that rack of ribs at the drive-in in the Flintstones. The only thing missing was flashing lights and some wait-staff members to sing a song of shame, in the manner of that ice cream parlor that we loved to visit back in high school. I've gotta ask my sister what the name was. I can remember the place in great detail - but not the name. I should call my sister anyway. She called me the other day to let me know that Brownie, their 8+ year old guinea pig, had slipped into a coma and was soon to be leaving us. She should have called the Guinness Book next, Brownie being the equivalent of a 115 year-old woman.

My dainty mother, of the delicate appetite and petite portions, would find herself afflicted with sudden dyspepsia when confronted with an unusually large portion. I had not seen that type of reaction until last night, when the waiter put the platter of ribs in front of Ed. Most of them are in my fridge now, waiting to be picked up after Em finishes with Summer Reading Club registration this morning. I think Dr. & Mrs. Big Ed have their meal selections for the coming week all ready.




*what kind of mother am I?