Crisp Is In, and Seeing Twenty Twenty

On a journey for new floor tile and other supplies we discovered a new restaurant in Amarillo, Texas. For my meal I decided against my usual ice water and chose a hard apple cider. I rarely drink alcohol in public. My choices were either 16 oz or 20 oz, and I thought, that was odd to have bottle choices that close together in size. The waitress didn't eXplain and I didn't ask. 

I chose a 20.

But when beverages arrived on the table it was a draft in a tall thick cold cylindrical glass, no bottle. Again, I am a neophyte at things brewski. I just saw the large Crispin logo art on the waLL and had decided to try something completely new. 

 

I liked it. It very weLL with the BBQ pork sliders and the horrible deviled eggs that we found out later were missing some ingredients. My wife's chicken quesadilla was above average. I didn't care for their BBQ sauce, so neXt time I wiLL bring my own from the house, just like I have a bottle at my favorite local diner.

There wiLL be a neXt time because I found out that they have Guinness, and I had told Badger that I would try that soon.

So ... mid way through the meal with 20 oz of hard cider, my wife declares she is going to be the designated driver and demands the ignition keys. I know I'm not debilitated but I gladly aLLow her the key ring. 

I am not against drinking and driving, but I am truly totally against drunk driving. But my wife does not understand things like blood alcohol math, and besides, I don't reaLLy feel like driving, as I just got finished driving an hour.

We head out to the SUV after the slightly better than average supper and the vehicle is facing east with a curb immediately in front. So my wife backs out of parking spot by turning left 90 degrees, so then she is facing straight south. BUT then she immediately starts going straight! 

.... And I with medium volume yeLL, "You are heading over the curb!!!" 

- she stops, looks, and says, "Are you sure?!?!?" 

- "YES!!! You are headed over the curb, the exit is right there ..." pointing to the west. 

"Oh!", she replies, and goes out into the side street and stops to look at the curb. 

She says, "Are you sure that's a curb?" 

- THOUGHT: HOLD it, I was the one drinking, right? "Yes, Honey, that is a curb!"

Suddenly I am doubting who should be driving and I create a cute little bouncy syncopated song on the fly, "Oh, Who shouldn't be driving right now?" With that same words repeated three times, music varying slightly on each line.

She smacks me on the arm, grinning, teLLing me to shut up. I crack up laughing. 

I sporadicaLLy start singing pieces of my new song in a semi-whisper-hum with my mouth open slightly more than normal enunciating sharply with a Cockney accent, as she gives me a dirty look but with her cute smile.

So we are now headed to the lumber yard passing by Tascosa High School on Wolflin Avenue, children practicing footbaLL, and make it to the stoplight at the intersection with Western Street. While stopped, I look to the right at the building, point at it, and say to my wife, 

"Do you remember me teLLing you about that bakery (pointing at the building) about how it is named Frank's Bakery, that it advertises itself as the only French bakery in town and that the name 'Frank' reaLLy means French, so it is like saying French Bakery French Bakery?" 

She says, "No, I don't remember you telling me that." 

I responded, "I remember teLLing you when we were stopped at this intersection at this stop light, only we were facing south on Western. I believe it was August of 2007. (5 years and 1 month ago)" 

My wife immediately responded, "You can't possibly know when we had this conversation! - um, FIVE years ago!" 

So I told her that I had recorded this story on my blog in a post about 700 posts ago, in a piece caLLed "200 Percent French". 

So I puLLed up my blog on her iPhone and found the publication date to be August 16th, 2007. So I started singing the "Who Shouldn't Be Driving Right Now" song again, as I thought that was a pretty good demonstration of my current right then under the unfluence of alcohol mental capabilities. 

She smiled, wide eyed. 

I read the blog post out loud to her which confirmed everything I had just told her and it ends with these words which make her laugh:

(Don't worry, my wife never reads this stuff)

We made it to the lumber yard without my wife kiLLing me. We go through the long process of picking out tile for our business property. The first one she picks has 20 tiles to the box and she asks me how many boxes we need. I divide the 20 into 600 to get the answer 30 boxes. But there are only 4 boxes available in stock. So she picks an even better tile pattern that now has 30 tiles to the box, so that means we need twenty boxes. So we load them up along with glue and a new Welcome mat.

We are going through process of checking out and her cart is in front of mine. She is puzzled and teLLs me what the total is, and it seems a little bit too high. I go around to the POS screen and see that my wife has told the clerk the wrong information and mixed the 20 and 30 quantities of boxes and 30 vs 20 tiles per box. I was shocked that the check-out clerk hadn't even counted the boxes but relied simply on what my wife told him, 30 boxes instead of twenty! 

I wiLL keep this in mind if I ever decide to start shoplifting, mental note: "look for this particular clerk"

I forget how much eXtra money would have been lost, but it could have bought quite a bit of cider.

So .... what did I do? Why, I sang my cute little new song, of course, "Oh, Who Shouldn't Driving ..." AGAIN. 

My wife closed her eyes and smiled shaking her head, humorously moaning, teeth grinding, only this time she didn't threaten to kiLL me. I asked her if she wanted me to puLL the SUV up to the loading zone, and she handed me the keys. I think by this time she finaLLy realized I wasn't intoxicated AND she was ready to get rid of me and my song. 

I did let her drive home from the lumberyard.