After a skull-phucker of a headache today ('tis reasonable to assume that phlegm-glop drying up has probably caused a Sinus Infection,) your correspondent decided to bail on the making of dinner.This option is always a tough choice, as DaSauce is of the mind that you don�t spend your money in a restaurant that feeds you foods that you could better make at home.
Exceptions can be made for a bad noggin-knocker.
So, the boy and I ended up at a Lawry�s Carvery. It is one of those places that you go if you can mentally face the �I�m not having to make dinner, so no whining about shitty food,� thought process.
Before going up to order, I left my best-buddy at a table guarding a couple of things we had grabbed at Wms. Sonoma� and on return he was introducing me to an astonishingly lovely Asian gal (maybe Korean/Hawaiian?) Anyway, my polite son goes, �Dad. This is Stephanie. I introduced myself properly. Stephanie? This is my dad (insert name here.) She was agog at daBoy. She said, �This kid is amazing. Nice to meetcha (insert first and last name here!)" Your son even very carefully spelled his/your last name so I would get it right. Is he really five?� I just grinned and noted that he was indeed five�and that I thought he was pretty swell myself. She was gorgeous with a big beautiful smile, and surprisingly--a brunette (and probably a true one, duh.) Small-breasted (don�t care�NATURAL,) curvaceous, huge and lovely brown/hazel eyes-- there had to be something wrong with this picture.
And there was.
Stephanie�s boy came dashing up at this point�and she finalized the intros (explaining the conversation with daSon in the process.) His name was Herbert.
It got worse.
There is something about Orange County that I�d like to (and as a result regularly) forget. It is an annoying little something I ought to coin a term for... Hrm. How about an AcronymIzational effort: C L A P?
Christ Loves Asian Phanatics.
Yep. These two were proselytizers of the finest ilk. Deeply charismatic Korean Baptists.
And she was charismatic as hell (and possibly even pneumatic.)
Ah, well.
We had a few soi-distant moments where they stopped talking at us long enough to chat with each other. Each and every time we got THE BLESSED PAUSE, I explained to my son that it wasn't nice to listen to other people's conversations when out to dinner and then reiterated for him ADDITIONALLY--that it wasn�t kind or gentlemanly of us to bother them while they were eating. They eventually got the point.
To the food:
The rating? 8 of 10 by the son--as he loved the Cr�me Brule, and a five of ten by DaSauce, as there were a pair of pleasant surprises�the cold asparagus was tasty, and the cremini mushroom salad was pretty good as well.
Watching the kid power through the asparagus was a joy to behold. Hearing his first exclamation about (what I fondly call�but never in front of the boy) AsparaPiss a few months ago brightened my day enormously. �DAD! My pee really stenches!�
Since then AsparaPee (his version) is relished (or at least the smelling of same) with as much vigor as he manages when chomping the little green shoots.
On the way home, my dear little boy announced that all the bright lights from TBN (Happy Birthday Jesus!) meant, �they must be selling something.�
Then on Sirius sat radio�s kid�s station the young man heard his first Bob Dylan tune in This Old Man.
He held his nose and sang along�noting for me, �that guy must be doing this, dad!�
I�ve always felt that way about Dylan. Funny thing, that.
--SparaStephanieSauce?