While the actual kittens headed over to the pool this morning, yours truly and Aunt Lisa headed out to run an errand in town. First, it’s amazing that Lisa remembers the previous night. Second, it’s amazing that Aunt Lisa was still willing to speak to me. All was good. The errand involved checking on the tires to the rockin’ Town and Country. I had them rotated last week and the car’s been driving funny since then. Didn’t want to drive four hundred miles back to Dallas and have a huge problem on the way. We went to a shop in Galveston for a look. The actual downtown part of this seaside community is about twenty minutes up the beach from us. The guys at the shop looked things over and determined quickly that the problem was a bad tire. They sent us around the corner to another shop specializing in used tires. A few minutes later I texted my wife. “Everything’s good. PLUS I’ve hit blog gold!”
The place we were sent to was an interesting place indeed. It looked like a junkyard with a warehouse. Atop the “warehouse” was what looked like a house being constructed. Lisa remarked that it looked like the owner was building a house for himself right upstairs so that he could live and work in the same place. I wasn’t even prepared to argue with her. It sounded as good an explanation as any other. This is especially true when one considers what we encountered in the “waiting room”. Check out the pictures and draw your own conclusions. To us, it looked like we were sitting in their living room.
Later that evening we hit up one of Galveston’s nicest restaurants. It’s called Gaido’s and it’s famous for its seafood. When our waiter came around to take our drink order my sister-in-law Kris asked excitedly “Do you have moscato?” For the record, moscato is a kind of dessert wine (if you can legitimately call it that). When we flew a discount airline to New Jersey recently, the in-flight menu offered choices of reds, whites, and “fun wines”. Moscato was under that last category. I glared across the table at Kris. “Moscato?! This is a classy place, Kris, why not just order a bottle of Mad Dog 20/20 Orange?!” She was not amused. However, that moscato must have done the trick. A little while later she was asking if she should switch over to something less potent like, in her words, “Mad Dog 40”. At least she can add.
But the fun times didn’t end there. My wonderful mother-in-law was soon spotted with her napkin draped under her chest. When questioned, she revealed that the had spilled something on her shirt and thought this was the best way not to draw attention to it. Of course, we all had to do the same. Finally, the bill came. I searched in vane for the countless hurricanes we had ordered. Carl, our waiter, must not have been able to find “hurricane” as a standard drink on the touch screen menu back in the kitchen. Instead I saw the following: ‘Long Island Tea — 8@$10/$80″. Well they sure tasted like hurricanes to me. And for the record, most of them were not mine. Buried underneath that was this: “M Dog 20 — 3@$8/$24”. And so it seems Carl could add too!