And I Even Remembered My Doggie Bag

Yesterday I had to get up early for the third time this week, as my parents were coming down, and I had stuff to do.

Got up, drove to the post office to get an insured package that had been dropped off Friday and to mail out a book I'd sold on Ebay. Went across the street to the auto parts store and got some touch-up paint to fix the scratch I got when I was fucking keyed in Philly last month. Came back and painted over the scratch, then vacuumed the living room. Turned on Phillies-Cardinals and found out Bobby Bonds died. :(

Putted around and Drano'd the bathroom sink until my parents arrived at 4:30. Mom sat down to watch the game while Dad and I went out to the truck and brought in the headboard. He was proud of himself for picking a wood style and color that matched my nightstand. We set it up, but it's a shaky situation because the holes weren't drilled properly, and I shouldn't move the bed too much because the headboard might break off. I also need to buy a wrench. We talked some more as we watched the Phillies' comeback attempt fail. I mentioned the egg dilemma from a few days ago to Mom. "I don't think I've used a dozen eggs all year!" Showed them the MP3 player and opened my birthday cards.

By 6, we were off. I drove my car (a surreal experience in itself just because I'm driving my parents around) since I knew where we were going and you can't really fit all three of us comfotably in the truck. We went to W.L. Goodfellows, which I'd scouted beforehand using the phone book and the fine resources of my place of employment. Lot of different styles - steaks, seafood (to be expected, 8 miles from the ocean and all that), Italian... well, you can read the menu yourself.

Aside: It now occurs to me that I have a lot to say to Michelle when I write her back, and that I should do that within the next couple of days.

I pretty much knew what I wanted (having scouted ahead) and got the mozzarella planks (big and flat, unlike sticks) and the baby back ribs. Dad got a big-ass crabcake. Mom got fried lobster tail with the biggest baked potato I think I've ever seen. This led to a story about the giant baked potato my Uncle Barry got at a restaurant some 30 years ago during the same meal where my late Uncle Jerry ordered "a bottle of Cold Duck for the ladies." Butch and/or Ska will probably understand why that's funny. Mom didn't have any because I was there. Sort of.

The story makes me realize again that, especially among my online friends, I seem to have a great relationship with my parents and almost always have. I never openly rebelled, and we always have a good time just sitting and talking together, especially during a meal like this or Thanksgiving or Christmas. And despite what I said yesterday about how liberating my new independence has been, that relationship is something I don't think I appreciate enough.

I always consider the coleslaw heavily when I'm rating a restaurant, and Goodfellow's was too creamy for my taste, but still Perfectly Acceptable. We all liked the place; I'd go back. We passed on dessert and coffee - I didn't even finish my ribs. The last thing our waitress said was to me: "And don't forget to take your ribs home." We had a good laugh at that. Dad: "Does she know this family?" We're horrible with doggie bags. I remember one time we went out, we all got doggie bags, and we ALL left them at the table. I immediately handed mine off, since I had to drive.

We got home, they gave me an Entenmann's cake they bought, and left soon after with the candles, since there weren't enough in the box (24) and you can't divide or anything because 29's a prime number. I hung around here for the rest of the night, watched MXC (the one voiceover guy sounds kinda like Kilborn) and Velocity (which I never get to see because I always work Saturdays) and Iron Chef. And now, after sitting with this window open for four hours before really focusing on writing this, I'm going to bed.