Getting dinner in the suburbs
This weekend, I’m on vacation in the suburbs. This is because the Aged Parents are both out of town and somebody must watch the dog. So Arnie and I are here, rattling around in this house which is extremely large. First I have to point out that if it weren’t for the dog, we wouldn’t need to be here, but that’s also true in a physical sense because if it weren’t for the dog door, we couldn’t be here. That’s right — your host is smaller than he thought. Nobody left us a key that worked.
So, we’re out in the sticks, bathing with well water, watching satellite TV, and generally enjoying ourselves. I got really bored and decided we should head up town for a bite. Apparently there’s a new Italian restaurant by the Speedway and we’re supposed to try it. So we get in the car and drive there. Now, I’d lolled around reading all day, the dog needed washing, and the next thing you know you haven’t eaten all day, so I’m real hungry. But it’s only six-fifteen, right? Should be no problem getting a table. The wait was “an hour plus.” So we head over to Chipotle — I’m famished, let’s get a quick fourteen hundred calories and be done with it. Couldn’t even find a parking spot. Finally we go to a Mexican place and still have to wait half an hour.
“What’s with all the busy restaurants?” I asked this lady. She muses, “Oh… you know… people just want to eat… Must be the holidays…” Huh? The funny thing was, when we left at the wee hour of eight p.m., there were empty tables and no line. It’s like Florida here!
In other suburban news, I also gotta show you the photo of a car I parked behind last month. This was in Westerville, but since I have the CITYBOY license plate it was terribly disconcerting. No pee was found on my car.
The other big story, if you’ve been reading my intermittent postings, is that this week I begin my new job with the judge and end my job with Nationwide. I’ve had so many wonderful compliments from people at the company, people whom I really respect, and I’ll miss those people. I’m looking forward to a new professional life in the law.
Finally, as an update from 2005, I’ve learned from a commenter on this web log, that the Blues Station, which spammed me a year and a half ago, has closed. Folks, John Kerry learned this lesson the hard way: don’t mess with a blogger! (OK, I’m kidding — even I don’t believe that, plus, I still hate the word blogger.) Let’s hope the “dying art form” finds a new home. The commenter blames the smoking ban, but I blame parking, really.