Restaurant Politics, Bamboo, Rolling Stones, aka The Cockroaches

We have determined that we will never go back to the Hilltop again. 
Okay. It's not like a sworn oath or the way I feel about never going to Chik-fil-A but we have had it. 
First of all, there are definite MAGA vibes there but you can sort of see past that when you think about the fact that it is a totally family-run joint as far as I can tell and that people of all colors, occupations, sizes, shapes, ages, and whatever else differences there may be, are always welcome. Step up to the counter, order something from the huge menu, wait for your food, go back to the front of the place to pay for it, and either take it home or eat it out back on a picnic table under a covered area. 
So you know, that's all right. The ladies (always ladies) who do the food preparation and take orders work as hard as anyone I've ever seen. They are not there to be sweet. They are there to do a damn job. And as I've mentioned, I've seen a lot of children of employees grow up there, from the mamas pregnant with them to carrying them in slings as they work which is probably illegal, to setting them in highchairs behind the cake and deviled egg display cooler. 
Again- all good.
But recently a sign appeared in front of the door saying, "Cash Only." And another one in front of the counter where orders are taken. And one where you make your payment to the man (always the same man) whose job it obviously is to handle all the money. 
I imagine they're tired of having to pay the credit card and debit card fees but boy, does that make it inconvenient for their customers. Also, one has to wonder if the cash-only policy has anything to do with reporting taxes? 
Oh, probably not. That would just be too obvious.
Still. 
And then today when Lily and her kids and August and Levon and Glen and I all met up there for lunch and I went to the counter to ask for hot sauce and they gave me small plastic cup of it and told me it was 75 cents and I could pay the man up front, that sort of did it for us. 
This is the deep south. We do NOT pay for hot sauce at a restaurant. That would be like charging for mustard or mayonnaise on a sandwich. Ketchup to go with your fries. It is not done. 

But today we did eat there and August and Levon were handed off to us. I was driving my car because Mr. Moon had gone in early in his truck to get bags of leaves for mulch and to go to a Maggie softball game. 
I did not go to the game and guess what? 
I don't even feel guilty. 
This is a newish development and I like it. Less guilt is always a good thing. 
Unless you're a murderer or something. 

The boys and I stopped on the way home at the GDDG to get the ice cream and root beer for their special dessert tonight and they didn't even beg me for anything. I was impressed. 

This afternoon's main activity has been bamboo-related. First Levon did my rounds with me and he kicked over most of the sprouts we found. And when I say "kick" I mean that kid kicks that bamboo like he's going for a field goal. I kick with the side of my foot but he doesn't mess with that. Sometimes, as he is demonstrating above, he likes to pull the whole thing as hard as he can. 

August came out to join us and I showed them the monster sprout I had somehow missed the last few days. It was growing directly in front of the front porch. 

I swear the thing is seven feet tall. And right beside it, another one was trying to copy its elder. 

I managed to get the small one kicked and the giant one on its side but when Levon saw it, he had to have it to make a sword and so he proceeded to pull on it and this is what the roots look like. 

Of course the bamboo is split there and that is actually a root ball but you get the idea. How can I have been kicking bamboo for 22 years and never seen the roots? I showed it to Glen and he says he's never seen them either. 

After we'd taken care of all the sprouts we found today, there were swords made but that must have become boring because next thing I knew, this was happening. 

They figured out how to clean out the insides where the joints were and had what looked and sounded like a merry time of it trying out the flute-like instruments they'd made and then August decided to make his not only a flute but also a bubble blowing contraption. 

After that they let me read them two books, one a Babar book, the other The Trouble With Mom. 
While I was reading the boys used their new instruments for sound effects (triumphal entrance music, for example) and August discovered that the flute could also be a percussion instrument. 
It was a lively time. 

And then I let them go do what they wanted to do which was to watch TV and I got the chicken and dumplings going. It seems to me that all I've been doing for the last few days is chop onions, carrots, and celery. I know this isn't true but today was the third time this week. So all of that, along with the chicken and mushrooms are simmering and all I have to do is make the dumplings and add them to the pot. As usual there will be cut up cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, and sliced avocados. Let's keep this simple. 

All right. Here we go.

It would appear that the Rolling Stones are about to release a new album and a single from it dropped today. The Stones name was not used. The fake name is, as you can see- The Cockroaches. 
This is a take on the old Robin Williams joke that the only things that will survive a nuclear war are Keith Richards and cockroaches. 
In other words, the Old Boys are still here. 

I've listened to the single. Not sure what I think but it is definitely a Rolling Stones song. Bless them, bless them, bless their Old Boy Rock And Roll hearts. 

Love...Ms. Moon