Last night we dined at Joey’s Seafood Restaurant in Houghton. As we ordered our fish tacos & jambalaya & tilapia a fella offered us a sealed envelope. Upon paying, we must present the envelope to our waitress and see what we won. 10% off? 20%? 50% Oh-my-goodness, how about 100%?
Jeanette, our Scottish-born waitress, says she’s missed us since our last visit at Joey’s. Where have we been? We asked her what days she worked. We divined how we might have missed one another. Tomorrow was her birthday, she confessed, and told us how she’d spend the day. I shouldn’t tell you–but it involved casinos.
I wanted to say–Jeannette, you give us a winner and I’ll pray for a winner for you.
But I didn’t.
Later, she reverentially opened the envelope to determine our winnings.
We–oh, dear reader, are you ready for this?–won 100% off our meal!
Barry regretted that he hadn’t ordered a more expensive dish.
We tipped Jeanette an amount which would seed her casino fund on her birthday.
I hope she’s winning today.
Today I’m making barley chili for our dinner. What, you non-vegetarians inquire, is barley chili? It’s chili with barley, rather than cow, simmered patiently on the stove until fiery flavors mingle to appropriate delights. It’s a winner–I think. Haven’t created barley chili since, oh who knows, maybe 2010.
Of course, we’ll add a tossed salad with grape tomatoes (on sale this week at our local IGA) and maybe cucumbers and maybe peperoncinis or feta cheese; heck, how about olives?
The temperature warms to 20 (-6.6 C) degrees today. I announce to Barry that winter’s over. He thinks this terribly untrue, as it’s only February 1st.
Tomorrow my friend, my buddy, Susan Dee and I shall meet for a) breakfast or b) lunch whilst Barry ice fishes with our friend, Nancy. I eagerly await to discover which Susan chooses.
I so miss her! Too many ice-covered, snow-decked roads have separated my friend and me for the past couple months.
We shall chat and chat and chat about this and that and that. She and I understand the territory from which each of us comes; we accept one another for whom we are. We’ll probably travel in deep waters and, in the next moment, we’ll surface at shallow shores.
How I love a friend like this! One who appreciates depth and here/now.
I wish you all a friend like Susan Dee. I already know that you’re a winner, no matter whether a piece of paper hath declared you so. What’s been happening in your winter world?