Mr. Moon and I met up with Lily and Maggie and Owen and Gibson at Chow Time for lunch.
Our favorite place to sin.
You know, most buffets have food that is really not so good and I'm not going to say that most of the food at Chow Time is good for you but if all I ate when I went there was the hot and sour soup and some boiled shrimp and a little sushi, I would be completely happy. SO GOOD!
But no, of course I have to get a little rice, a spoonful of this, a spoonful of that, a spring roll...you know.
It's always a good time. And everyone gets what they want.
And it's just fun.
Maggie wasn't feeling great and indeed, was sick two days ago although Lily said she was fine yesterday, so whatever she had may have "come back on her" as Glen's mama used to say. She felt a little warm to me today and had those sick-girl eyes.
Would you look at Owen? He's getting so very tall that I have to get on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He is so loving to me and to his Boppy. He got teased a little today when Lily pointed out that Gibson's mustache is coming in faster than Owen's. Gibson will be 12 in March. But as we pointed out, Owen got more of the Norwegian genes from Boppy's side of the family and Gibson got more of the Italian genes from his dad's side of the family. And Italians are apt to have a little more facial hair than those people from the frozen north countries. Which makes no sense if you think about it.
Magnolia will be eight on Sunday. And then she and August will once again be the same age and all will be right with the world. There's a little recess in the wall at the entrance of Chow Time and Maggie always wants to get up there and use it for her own personal stage.
"Would you rather have a root beer float?" asked Lily. "You love root beer."
We also stopped by the Bad Girls Get Saved By Jesus thriftstore and had a good time, walking around there but we didn't buy anything. They had some nice small pieces of furniture that could reasonably have been sold in antique stores for a hell of a lot more money than they were asking, but I really don't need any more small tables or whatevers. There was a darling child's rocking chair that I would have bought in a heartbeat if I had a grandchild small enough to sit in it. Really lovely.
"I wonder what I'll make for myself?" he mused.
"Whatever you want!" I told him.
The good: the sheets are always clean and the bed is always old and comfy.
The bad: the houses are apt to be large and very dark and you may hear weird noises in the middle of the night.
"I worry when you spend the nights alone. Doesn't it bother you?" he asked me.
"No! I love it!" I said. And of course I do. I told him about the apartment I lived in by myself when I was quite young and that looking back now, I realize what a precious time that was.
And it really was although I fancied myself to be quite lonely. I don't think I was so much. I just wanted a boyfriend.
And I got one and that was the end of living by myself.
What are your thoughts on this?
Pancakes. Because you know- tradition.