Just a quick note tonight - it’s 10 PM and I just finished up working. Mike and I started lifting weights again and my arms feel like gelatin. At least now they look and feel the same way! You’d think with all the lifting I do of Ms. Lily, they’d be stronger.
We spent the day at Grammaw’s and Grandpa’s house - Lily spent her time crawling up and down the stairs, and up and down the aluminum step ladder. She also gorged herself on Gram’s home cookin’ - roasted chicken, green beans, potatoes, and some carrots. She was shoving them in, double fisted. Apparently my cooking is less than desirable. Did I mention the peaches? She ate those, too. I’m glad - maybe she’ll hit 20 pounds before her 2nd birthday and she can finally go forward-facing in her car seat. She got some good practice walking today as well since I didn’t bring her cart and in order for her to motor around she either had to crawl, cruise, or climb.
Lily made googly-eyes at the restaurant tonight - there was a table full of kids with their parents. It kept her entertained. I was entertained by the very large woman, who was very Southern. She must have ordered some sort of queso dip. It came out and it was spinach dip. She told the waitress she had brought the wrong thing, and then said, “But kin I taste that there dip?” The waitress just nodded mutely. She dug in, then passed the plate around to her family, telling them to “Taste it!”. The waitress held her hand out for the plate, and the woman said, “Do yer have to take it? It’s yer mistake, cain’t we keep it and eat it?” The waitress just said no again and tried leaving for the kitchen. Apparently the woman felt she could just continue to eat whatever was ordered incorrectly - perhaps she’d be visiting the dumpster for an after-dinner aperitif. I was really almost open-mouthed about the whole experience - and felt very sorry for the waitress. But what do you expect when you’re dining out on Hull Street on a Monday night . . . at least her daughter kept Lily entertained. Her son had on a large t-shirt with a painting of Jesus, nailed and bloody, to the cross. He liked Lily too and she liked looking at his dangly cross earring. Ah, I love the south.
