J. had to work Memorial Day, for some inhumane reason (something about making up a Bad Weather Day, I don't know). It turned out to be a good thing for J, as she was able to get a lot done that needed doing.
Which left me behind with Those People. They actually treated me fairly well, in general. A few bumpy spots where my anger spiked and/or I had to count to three. Mostly they were low-key -- a few Boy Fights mixed in for flavor.
Eventually, after much lazing around, they playing video games, me watching French Open tennis, we made our way out of the house. Our first stop on the "Tour de Fun" was Cafe 290, our local greasy spoon. J can't stand the place, but I'm nostalgic, and it's the one bit of authentic, down-home cooking we have in our area.
It's not in as much of a time warp as Tom's Restaurant in Brooklyn. There is no equivalent to Gus Vlahavas, welcoming you with a kind handshake and showing you their high school yearbook from 1957. At 290, there's a sense that they stopped decorating at some point, and stopped dusting shortly thereafter. The antique BB guns, hand crank mixers and black-and-white photos on the walls almost make the place feel like a roadside museum in some tiny country town.
Tom's, on the other hand, is alive with electric light and music. The sense one gets in there is of time travel, as though you've stepped through a portal in the space/time continuum, coming out in 1954.
Cafe 290 is as much for those who have made the long drive from Houston as it is for the locals. My children love it because they can order macaroni and cheese or corn dogs, and because -- like at Tom's -- the milk shakes are these big, over-the-top monstrosities of whipped cream and cherries.
I like it not only for the nostalgia (Did I mention I'm nostalgic? I am, in case you hadn't noticed), but also for the grilled cheese sandwich, served on "Texas Toast" -- big, unhealthy and delicious slices of white bread with plenty of butter.
After our lunch, I drove us to Lifetime Fitness where Jackson and I had some pool time, and Diego sunbathed, waiting patiently until it was time to go to the Child Center and his greatest love . . . video games. Then Daddy got his two hours of time alone, to try and work off the grilled cheese and to soak in the jacuzzi.
I later "cooked" them a dinner of frozen cod, french fries and "fiesta corn" out of a can. Uncharacteristically, Diego said Grace. "Thank you, Lord, for this food, our family, our friends and giving us shelter. Thank you, Daddy, for making this dinner for us. And please keep Mommy safe as she drives home to us."
He was sweet and light-hearted for the rest of the evening -- unusually affectionate. J. organized a Dance Party, and I got some great video of both boys rockin' out. All in all, a very good day, as our days go.
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