Vegetable, Dessert - Whatever.

Another stupid post. I really should be posting more on serious things - adoption, parenting, homeschooling, politics, blah, blah, blah. But everyday stuff is so ridiculous sometimes that I feel this desperate urge to share it. Maybe it's a gland problem.

So today my mom and I took the kids to a local corn maze/pumpkin patch/tractor ride thing. Afterward we drove to the nearest little town for lunch.

I was telling her that I remembered a college classmate of mine years ago telling me that this specific town had the best chicken sandwich he'd ever had. I didn't get the name, I guess I just thought it was be obvious once I saw it. Surprisingly, we didn't see a place with a name like "Best Chicken Sandwich You'll Ever Have." We did, however, see a BBQ place called - wait for it - Boston Butt Hut. You can't pass up a place like that. Don't even try. So we pulled into the little place and get out, smoke wafting around us. At that moment, my mom notices a little restaurant across the street. It touts old-fashioned southern cooking. My mom is intrigued, I can see, little elfish ears perked up. So we decide to head over there. In between these two restaurants is a four lane highway. A main artery, as my mom kept calling it. Lots of semis. We all hold hands and are about to cross when we decide to drive over. We get back in the van and begin the back up. My sensible surgeon of a seven years old states "We're in the parking lot of a restaurant and driving to another restaurant. This doesn't make any sense."

And darn it if he isn't almost always right about these things. But the people with drivers licenses control the cars, so off we go. It is probably about oh, 10 feet away? No wait, that's two of me. Maybe 20 feet. Our ride was like this:

"Ok, everyone, buckle up. *Click*
Ok, time to get out."

We walked in to a restaurant that was started in 1948. Original booths, carpet, and tables, from the looks of them. We sit down and order our drinks. The girl taking our order is decked out in Georgia gear, little bulldogs gracing her cheeks. Mom asked "So you are you rooting for on Saturday?'

Our waitress (blink): "Ha."

It's going to be a good lunch, I can tell.

While we sip our drinks, Mom looks longingly over at the restaurant we came from. "You want to go back to the Butt Hut, don't you?" Jack shakes his head, he's disgusted with us. If he knew the phrase 'You've made your bed, now lie in it,' he would've said that.

On the menu, under Vegetables, is a dish called "Chocolate Delight." We are told it is chocolate pudding and cool whip with a cookie crust. "Yes," Mom says, "I'll have that for my vegetable."

She goes to the bathroom and when she gets back she states "You have to see the bathroom."

Indeed.

When I go, I discover that there are two stalls but you must go through the first one to get to the second. That's right. We imagine the scenarios:

"Could you please hand me some toilet paper on your way back?"
"No, go right ahead, I'll just pick up my feet."

If I had thought to bring my camera, we could've acted out some of these scenarios and that would've made this post that much better.

The second stall is larger, like it's the wheelchair accessible one. No matter that the wheelchair would never get through the first stall. They have one on the premises and legally, that's all that matters.

From now on, I can say in any argument "Hey, I can't trust your judgement. You chose the restaurant with chocolate as a vegetable and the bathroom built for two."

I'm pretty sure I win.