Coach & I went out for date night tonight. It was nice to do something that is a part of our regular routine. Anyway…
I made Coach decide on the dining establishment. I always pick. And I didn’t want to pick… so we went round & round before he finally picked. I’m at odds as to whether this was the right course of action to be taken.
We ended up at one of those establishments that is a favorite of men & children. Mostly because it’s acceptable to throw food on the floor. I’ve never understand the fascination with throwing remnants of your food onto the floor. I suppose there are some women who enjoy the folly as well.
The dining room was full. It would seem that maybe this was family night. I have no problem with being in a restaurant when kids are present. Unless of course the kids are running amuck doing whatever the hell they want to while the parents are busy drinking, playing cards (yes, playing cards…at the dinner table), reading Facebook or watching whatever sporting event is being shown on the 47 televisions scattered throughout the area. Let’s not forget the coughing, sneezing and general snotty germ spreading nature of small kiddos.
Tonight just as we were beginning to enjoy our dinner, a boy of about 4 jumps up from his dinner table which was located very near to ours… he began running around the dining room, weaving and bobbing in out of tables. and to make matters worse, he was scooping up discarded peanut shells from the floor… the shells that have been walked on with shoes of hundreds of people who were previously walking outside, quite possibly stepping in dog poop… or in the bathrooms walking across the stickiness of dried urine… this kids was scooping up the filthy shells and THROWING THEM THROUGH THE DINING ROOM!
His parents never got up, never said a word. As peanut shell shrapnel is flying through the air, Coach & I assume the prison dining position of guarding your plate. We did our best to create a food shelter in an effort to keep the nasty peanut shit from landing in our food. Finally, after about 30 minutes of the heathen child running amuck, the women finished their card game, the guys gathered up their ball caps, the matriarch put away her electronic device and they all walked out. Thank Gawd. My back was really beginning to jam up from that prison hover over your plate posture.
In other news….
Today is the one week anniversary of my father’s near death experience. It’s amazing to realize that one week ago this is what he looked like:
And today he looks like this!
I sit here and realize how blessed I am. Tomorrow is Father’s Day and this year it could have taken on a whole new meaning for me. But Dad is getting stronger each and every day. He is connecting the dots on what happened to him. The worst moment for me is when I found out that Dad didn’t think the lobectomy had been done. He had been thinking they couldn’t do the surgery and the cancer was still inside him festering. He was thinking he was too weak to have the surgery again… which meant he wouldn’t be with us much longer. I can only imagine how awful he must’ve been feeling. Thinking he’d gone through all of this and it was unsuccessful.
But he knows the truth now. The cancer was removed. He is getting better. And plans are being made.