To Dine For.

I ate out three times today. It was spectacular.

Meal #1: The husband and I took our rented tandem bike up the canyon to Ruth's diner for brunch. Famous mile high biscuits always taste like heaven, but this morning they were especially celestial as I sat beside my love. We listened to the running brook outback and wondered what our lives will be like in another year. He even switched me plates--strait up--when he noticed how much I was eyeing his order. The two best things about getting older are: having an occasion to justify restaurant patronage, and knowing that I'm getting older with my man.

Meal #2: Did I mention that Milly took the boys last night? She is a saint. Whenever I ask her how the boys were she always says, "they were perfect," and nothing more, even though it wasn't long after I picked up the boys that I discovered Atrain's urine scented PJs in his bag, and possibly another pair of pants as well. But, I guess he is perfectly par for the three year old course. Once we reunited with the husband, we headed to our church group's pool party, where Atrain took the biggest dare of his life. After careful analysis of the large, steep water slide, he boarded it by himself and catapulted down into the husband's arms. But, it wasn't before he braced his arms and legs against either side of the slide and warped his face into a mean interpretation of "the scream." Surprisingly, he wasn't too shaken by the crash at the bottom. After I helped him regain his courage, he continued to dunk the husband repeatedly from the diving board. And then I ate the best meat balls I've ever had, courtesy of our high councilman, who also sells salsa at Cosco. MMmmmm.

Meal #3: My third dining experience was with my sisters--all four of them. Oh wait, one of them is actually my mom, but no one is ever able to tell. She loves it. I would too. The company made the food delectable. I simply can't understand why the husband hates sharing restaurant dishes. Food is so much better when you can try a little bit of everything. With five girls around a table, our forks are constantly tasting and trading through everyone else's order. I love our conversations even more than our annoying dinner habits. We refreshed Allerina on all of our "good old" stores: about how Bambie pretended she was in a gang, and how I had a sixth sense about whether or not someone had set foot in my room, and how Katydid once painted her entire bathroom in baby blue clouds--window sill and all. And, of course, about how we have wonderful concerned parents who read our journals to spy on us (actually, that was really just Bambie's journal because my life wasn't "interesting enough" to have to check up on it...I still can't decide whether or not that was a compliment). However, I'm sure she wishes she could read them now.

Ode to Chick-fil-A

When I was a tween my mom would take me ‘up north’ to go shopping. It was a special treat. With my own money in my pocket she would let me loose for a couple of hours at the mall to wreak havoc, mostly in 5.7.9. I loved that store. But, what I loved even more about going up north was Chick-fil-A. Their greasy chicken nuggets, waffle fries and soft serve vanilla ice cream were the best thing my 12 year old mouth had ever tasted. It was always the perfect ending to my independent afternoon.

Tonight I returned to Chick-fil-A for the first time in more than a decade. My sister in law, Famous, helped me rekindle my romance with this fast-food restaurant. But it wasn’t the food that stole my heart. It was the clean, enclosed play place, the packets of cheerios for little ones too young to digest deep fried chicken, the smiling “it’s my pleasure” teenage boy who kept coming back to refill my cup of water. Awe, Chick-fil-A! After an exciting day of RA responsibilities, missed birthday parties, coughing kids and picking out paint with six kids in a shopping cart, you know just how to make a mother smile. Let us never part again.