I haven’t posted much this past week as I have been a tad busy with out-of-town guests (my immediate family), visiting my grandparents in Kentucky, picking beans out of the garden, making potato and chicken salad (clarification: potato salad and chicken salad, not salad with chicken and potatoes. That would be weird.), cleaning up my house, drinking enough water to match the rate at which I am sweating it out due to the triple digit heat wave, breaking up and shelling beans to put up, wrangling my cats, watching the clouds, working at my day job, watering my scorched container garden, sending thank you notes, catching up on recorded reruns of Pioneer Woman, tracking severe weather across the U.S., and remembering my name.
It has been quite a week, but a good one.
I had Mexican food for dinner Friday, Sunday and Monday nights.
I repeat: It was a good week.
It was also nice to see my family. We tend to have some good laughs when we’re together.
The fun began when my sister drove down from Lexington and we picked up my parents at the airport the Friday before last.
Getting down to business, we drove straight to Mexican Restaurant #1 for dinner.
My Dad ordered a large Margarita, which was served in what seemed to be a punch bowl with a stem.
I had taken a few minutes to decide what kind of drink I wanted and I was telling the waitress that I would like a strawberry daiquiri as my Dad’s water basin of a drink arrived.
The waitress then asked me what size drink I would like. Seeing my eyes bulge out of my head as they placed my Dad’s drink on the table, she cracked a smile and devilishly asked:
“You want big?”
I was a little hesitant to order a drink as large as my head, but I kind of wanted one. The waitress was a very perceptive lady and concluded:
“You want big.”
A few minutes later, this is what arrived.
Yes, Eugene, that is my drink.
As you can see, we were off to a great start with the family visit.
We enjoyed a tasty dinner and caught up on what had gone on in the past week. I was telling my parents about taking my cats, Gus and Scarlett, to the vet for the first time since moving to Nashville. I had to take them in for a distemper shot and I was going on about how Scarlett had behaved quite badly, per usual. I believe at this point in the conversation Eugene was sort of half-listening as she tried to make a dent in the 4 plates of food she had been served because she looked up confused and asked:
“Wait, she had to get a shot for his temper?”
We all died laughing. Another great “Julia-ism.”
Oh, you crack me up, Eugene.
More to come on the rest of the family weekend.
Y’all come back,