On Fancy Restaurants

My husband and I don’t get out a lot together. We just don’t have babysitters around us. I mean, I guess I could find a local teenager but I just wouldn’t trust her thanks to cell phones and iPods and other electronic devices that seem to take over their worlds. Suppose my daughter escapes the house and is walking into traffic and teenaged Suzy doesn’t even notice because she’s too busy texting, desperate to find out if Chad likes her and ohmigod, should she dye her hair pink?

So it just means we don’t get dates. Which is fine, really. It’s hard to figure out a movie that we agree on anyway. He prefers movies where things blow up and I prefer movies where people fall in love and music swells in the background.

The good news is, when we were at the beach for our mini family reunion last week we had two opportunities to go out on a date.

The first one we got to go out to lunch and see a movie. Granted, my cousin and her husband were with us but we didn’t care. We were KIDS FREE!

This meant that I could eat my food the minute it arrived instead of worrying about cutting up someone’s meat first. This meant I could have an ADULT CONVERSATION that wouldn’t be interrupted by a tiny person’s voice informing me that they have a booger wedged in their nose.

It was bliss.

Then we decided to see the new Adam Sandler movie Funny People which was pretty good but talked about penises a lot. Oh, and there seemed to be a curse word every few minutes. But that’s okay.

The next day we were able to go out to dinner with my cousins. Without kids. We went to this Italian restaurant and our waiter was named John but I really wanted to call him Guiseppe.

It was sort of fancy so I kept inwardly reminding myself to sit up straight and to chew with my mouth closed. Not that I chew with my mouth OPEN but I admit there are times when I probably show more than I should. It’s just, sometimes I get inspired to say something and I have to blurt it out or else I forget since my memory is shot these days.

The restaurant served this delicious warm bread with a dipping sauce that I was in love with. I couldn’t stop eating the bread. I’d take a bite and say that this was my final bite but then a few seconds later I’d reach and grab another piece.

“Hide this from me,” I told Tom, shoving the basket towards him.

“Um where? We’re at a table,” he replied.

Gee Tom, get inventive. Build a tower with the salt and pepper shakers! Cover it with the napkin. Just GET IT OUT OF MY SIGHT!

I also had to remember to fan out the cloth napkin neatly across my lap. I have a bad habit of bunching it in my lap which doesn’t exactly look nice.

I ordered this fabulous pasta but when it arrived, I had to remind myself that I had to eat it politely. I couldn’t slurp up the noodles like I do at home.

So I cut them up neatly and tried to take ladylike bites. If someone asked me a question I’d cock my head to the side thoughtfully as I chewed and would wait until I swallowed to answer. I made sure I didn’t put my elbows on the table. I sipped my diet Coke in a dainty way.

I would have ordered wine but I’m a weird one and I don’t like wine.

My cousin ordered some Chianti and I said something like, “Oh, wasn’t that what the psycho on The Silence of the Lambs wanted?” and a silence fell over the table for a few seconds.

Apparently you’re not supposed to mention psychos who eat people in fancy restaurants.

“This is just SCRUMPTIOUS,” I told the table, gesturing to my pasta. I never use the word scrumptious but saying, “This is kick ass” didn’t seem like a fancy restaurant thing to say.

Tom raised his eyebrow at my usage of the word scrumptious though. “Scrumptious?” he repeated in a baffled tone.

I ignored him.

After we ate, my cousin Anna and I wanted dessert. The men were being strange and were saying they didn’t want any.

How can a person NOT want dessert?

We called Guiseppe over and asked him what the choices were.

He listed off a bunch of things and we both settled on the blueberry pie with cinnamon ice cream.

Guiseppe had mentioned a chocolate cake that had piqued my interest but I was worried that it would arrive all decorated with chocolate syrup swirled around the plate. I HATE when places do that because I’m always tempted to run my finger along the syrup and eat it. But it’s just not the proper thing to do. It’s just meant for decoration which means you’re supposed to LEAVE IT.

That’s like a total waste of food. Who can leave perfectly good chocolate syrup?

I certainly can’t which is why I went with the blueberry pie.

The pie, by the way, was delicious.

“Scrumptious again,” I said. The cinnamon ice cream was also amazing. If I had been at home I’d have picked up the bowl and licked it clean.

“I want Dairy Queen,” Tom said as I finished up.

DAIRY QUEEN? We’re in a fancy restaurant and he wants DAIRY QUEEN?

Actually, a blizzard sounded really good

“Okay,” I said with a shrug. There was one nearby so we stopped on the way home.

Blizzards rock. I think my cousins were surprised over all that I ate.

“How can you eat that?” they asked, gesturing to my second dessert of the night.

“Er....I have a large stomach?” I replied, plopping my elbows on the table. It felt so nice not to have to be all FANCY. I also slouched back in my seat and slurped up my ice cream. I am not ladylike. I can pretend to be for a few hours but that’s it.

“Is it scrumptious?” Tom teased.

I grinned. “Of course.”

You can never go wrong with Dairy Queen after all.