Is twelve days long enough to enter Major Asshole territory, or are you still trekking through the hinterlands of Rude Jerk at that point? Perhaps right on the border? Well, where ever it is, that’s where I am because it’s been that long since I met some of the people I link to from here for dinner and I never said a word here about it. Oopsie.
The parties in question were my lovely wife Beth, El Steve and his no-question-about-it better half Viv, and the new-to-me Carol. I had a nice time seeing/meeting/having dinner with these people, and I know they checked in here expecting me to talk about it and were disappointed, so apologies are in order for not doing so. To some of them.
Now, I can get away without acknowledging Beth for obvious reasons: she didn’t write about it either, and thus is even more shameful than me. And I can get away without giving his Steveness his due because, well, he ain’t got none. But I can’t let myself off the hook for failing to mention seeing Viv again, or meeting Carol for the first time. I should have said something sooner because, well, it was worth mentioning.
Viv goes without saying. (Um, pun not intended.) She has been a longtime stealth reader of these pages, she’s very cool, betrays (outwardly, at least) absolutely no regrets at having married far beneath her station, and I hardly ever get to see her, so let me just say — belatedly, too late, and even after the fact — that I’m glad we got together and I wish we’d do it sooner.
Carol was someone I’d been looking forward to meeting, but I have to admit that I was disappointed. I’m half-deaf, you see, and the restaurant was noisy and she sat at the far end of the table from me, and Steve would not shut up, and so I didn’t get to really talk with her very much. Which was not great, because I wanted to get to know her better. But she had excellent table manners and was witty in the few moments we spoke to each other, so I have high hopes for the next time we meet. And in the meantime, I get to keep reading her blog, which I think you should all go read right now (and here’s another link to it to make things easy on you) before I say something else mean about Steve.
And then there’s Steve. Yeah. Once you trek into the desert with a complete stranger to hand up a pay phone, there’s really no going back. You’re linked to each other for life, sort of like that old American Indian thing about when someone saves your life you’re bound to them for good, only it’s not nearly that noble. But that’s sort of what Steve and I have, tempered by the anti-emotion ribbing that guys do when they like each other but pretend they don’t. So it’s always good to see him, especially since the gaps seem to be getting longer and longer.
So having dinner with them all was a nice time and I should have said so sooner. But better late than never and all that, so get off my back about it already.
And next time let’s not do Don Cuco’s. Sure, the food’s good, but it’s not that good, and I’d like to be able to friggin’ hear everybody. Instead, let’s go to Waffle House.
Halloween preparations are continuing apace. It’s pouring down rain outside, thus preventing construction of my trademark big-ass spiderweb out front, but I found my costume today at Rite-Aid. Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis is in the house! ——————>