Good food, Good friends, Good service- Well 2 out of 3

Despite the insane amount of cake I ate yesterday in preparation for CareBear’s birthday, we managed to make it out to our dinner fun.  As the birthday girl and I sauntered into our most favorite restaurant in all of DC, Chilli’s of course, we realized it was a packed house.  So, as our favorite booth was occupied, we made our way to the bar to sit and wait for DC’s newest semi-goth resident, our very own Fibonacci …seriously Count has nothing on you :) We were in luck, two minutes left of happy hour.. and happy we were!!!  We were even clever enough to dodge their up-selling prowess, “would you like some wings..um no .. duh” And in an amazing twist in what promised to be a series of luck for the evening, our booth opened up. Flying across the room, leaping over tables, charging ahe….ok whatever so I walked, we secured OUR booth. Unfortunately, our booth was strewn with its previous inhabitants food and drink. Eh, still ours!

Suddenly a text came in, “I am around the corner”. Yay, the numbers didn’t throw our little genius. As she sat down, we looked at our table and realized – hey no one’s cleared this table, then at our watch, and it’s been an hour.. hmmm. And then our eyes were drawn to the neon flashing light. Free Wings! They were free, we had not thwarted the attempts of the mean capitalist pig?? What’s going on here. As we sat amidst free wings and cleared tables, we began to see that we have been mistaken about our luck. At that moment , we beckoned to our server, um can we order? Turns out they mistakenly thought we had eaten and finsihed and were juts taking up one of their limited booths. As she rushed away to go bring us food and drink , we three princesses relaxed and enjoyed our first night out together in  forever. Despite the turmoil , it was a fabulous birthday feast for CareBear- wingless and under a pile of other people’s dirty dishes-but happy.  

In other news, if I don’t stop eating so much. I’m going to explode. Mom just stopped by bearing a surprise present for my husband and food.. lots and lots of food.

Rule of 3’s Mother F*!*#R

As I was sitting in the traffic this morning, I started to think about growing up with my mom. You’re probably wondering why traffic reminds me of my mom but there is really a good reason. My mother is a 5′ 7″ beauty who is kind and sweet and the best mother ever. A former teacher turned successful lawyer she is calm and pulled together… that is until she gets in traffic. When suddenly, its like she develops a rather severe disorder where a constant, steady  flow of curses–some which you have never heard, some which 20 year old prison shut-ins would not dare to utter– begin to permeate the silence. And the oddest part is that they are shouted in threes… mother f*!*#R, damnnit, f*$k. Stop. Repeat. Vary. For the record, mother f*!*#R is her favorite. Our only salvation was the closest shopping area. That’s right only the nearest mall could tame the beast. And that is how my mother taught me, shopping can fix even your worst day. So thank you for my lesson mom, and as a tribute let me just say MOTHER F*!*#R!

And,yes, in case you are wondering I too swear like a truck driver… sadly, in and out of traffic.