It's a little after 6 pm and it's gorgeous out.  The sun is slowly setting in my front yard which means the living room is flooded with sunlight.  It's too beautiful for words.  Zack is down at the park shooting hoops and Josie is out playing with Maddie.  Is there anything  better for a kid than having a friend next door?

Yesterday I got a call from my Mom, inviting us to dinner at the club.  They have some good friends who go live elsewhere most of the year so have asked Mom and Dad to use their dinning room minimum.  It has to be paid and they'd rather someone had a good time with it so once a month Mom and Dad invite some of us out to dinner or brunch.

Brunch at the club is spectacular but Thursday night is Prime Rib night.

You gonna say no to Prime Rib night? 

I didn't think so.

Jay couldn't come but I could.  I made tacos for the kids and hit the road.  I was all dressed up (shoes and underwear) because we'd been trained since we were young that you didn't show up at the club dressed like a slob.  Even if you were a slob, you weren't allowed to look like one.  This can cause problems for me because I have so few occasions to dress up that I never know if my nice clothes are clean or still fit.  Or if I have any shoes that I can stand to wear for more than an hour.  Plus, it really tanks your efforts if you get all dolled up and then as you're sitting at dinner discover that there's still six colors of paint speckling your arm.  And hair.

For Prime rib I'm willing to put on makeup and earrings.

Dinner was going great, I was having a bloody Mary when my Mom's cell phone rang.  It was Zack.  Jay had found him a new tutor and he was coming over in fifteen minutes and Dad was still at work and someone had to be there.

"Jay doesn't want Zack home alone with a tutor?" my brother asked.  "Zack is six five;  No math geek on earth is going start something with Zack!"

"Zack is only six two (and therefore prey to marauding bands of math geeks) and the point is someone has to be there to pay the guy."

The waiter came to take our orders and we all wanted prime rib. 

"Does everyone want a large cut?" the waiter asked, then looked at me "Or perhaps you'd prefer a smaller cut?"

He was either being polite or suggesting that I could stand to cut back.  Dream on, waiter boy.

"I want two large cuts."  I told him.  "Put one in a bag."

Just because Jay had to work didn't mean he should miss out.

I got home in plenty of time to pay the tutor. 

When he finished his prime rib, Jay and I watched the first few episodes of the sixth season of the Sopranos.  While I enjoyed watching Tony get shot by Junior, I have to say this season is dull, dull, dull so far.

Time to go eat dinner.

 

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