|"I see bacon, eggs, and quiet desperation in your future. Possibly celery."|
"Good evening, mam. How can I help you?"
"Yes, I believe I left my purse in one of your carts and walked off so I could get to my Diet Coke and Aunts on a Log that much faster?"
"Ahh yes, here you are."
"Thank you. Initially, I thought someone would walk off with it, which didn't bother me too much because my possessions are, as you can see, relegated to an old Taco Bell receipt and petrified jelly beans. But then I realized I'm going to dinner, and I really need my ID so I can self medicate."
"Very good, mam."
This conversation, among many, is how you know the holidays are approaching. Honestly, between the cabin fever, remembering to buy pumpkin pie, and reconstructing my deodorant after the kids broke it into three different pieces, the brain's been a little frazzled. Fortunately, after I abandoned my purse, I had the forethought to call my sister and ask her to babysit.
"Hi, can you watch the kids while we go to dinner tonight?"
"Sure. What are you doing right now?"
"Finished my errands, and now I'm driving around random neighborhoods and postponing going home. I've been down this street four times. I can't tell for sure, but the guy pointing at an ADT sign and dialing his cell might be a red flag."
"Sounds legit. I'll be there at six."
Perhaps it was the impending Thanksgiving melee or the fact the kids had become overly comfortable with climbing my back, using only my ponytail, but, whatever it was, Husband and I were leaving for dinner and nothing was stopping us. Fortunately, the heavens had opened up and presented us with a gift card.
My sister eyed the kids, who'd been hurriedly thrown into pajamas and wiped down. "So, where you guys going to dinner?"
"Longhorn Steakhouse. The foundation company sent thirty dollars as a Thank You."
"Interesting. You must be on their preferred gold plan."
I nodded. "Yes, for every thousand spent, we earn a baked potato."
Over casual conversation addressing which one of us sees better in the dark due to the aging process, we rushed to the restaurant, gladly waited the thirty minutes to be seated, and poured over the menu with the reckless abandon only two people with thirty dollars from a foundation company can have.
"I'm getting the surf and turf."
"I'm getting the prime rib."
"Maybe we should just buy the restaurant."
Eventually, the server lumbered over and, after placing even more Diet Coke in front of me, made us pick something. "What can I get you folks?"
Husband looked confident as he pointed. "We'd like the same thing."
"The Rancher's Special?"
I piped up. "Yes, we saw that it's a giant steak covered in a sunny side up egg, bacon, and some type of heart-stopping sauce?"
My menu hit the table. "Yes, two of those because we have no shame."
The rest of dinner was positively delightful. Me finishing my steak. Husband eating most of his steak. Me finishing the rest of Husband's dinner. And so, I entered this week a little more energized. Which is great because we only have eight billion weeks of winter left.
And with that, I bid you, my friends, an early Happy Thanksgiving. May your turkeys be fat and your wine glasses hold enough to block out the children chasing each other with pewter pie servers.
Until Next Time, Readers!