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I'm thinkin' that we handed out red wine, in red Solo cups, one year at Karla's house. Maybe more than once that Jim and I sat in the driveway in river chairs, grape juice in hand, while we waited on the kids to get back with their hard-earned loot. We had some grateful takers.
The Boy is off with his friends to Diz West for some Halloween revelry and The House Blond has plans for the spookiest day of the year as well. It's been almost two decades since Mrs TWC and I have had no parental obligations on Halloween. That's a disquieting feeling that almost borders on relief.
Disney allows costumes that are in good taste, which means a nay if the House Blond showed up as Pyscho Bride, a role she played a couple of years ago at the ASB haunted house.
Keeping that admonition in mind, The Boy is going as.....
What makes this a great costume is that the second he puts it on, he's in character. And he's awesome. The Boy stood silently in The House Blond's bedroom, lights out, patiently waiting for her to open the door and step inside. Never said a word, he didn't have to. She about dropped to the floor in a dead feint.
As the Summer of Love faded into the warm clear days that mark Southern California in October, the stork assigned to the Fullerton run showed up at St Jude Hospital a little early. In his bundle of swaddled cotton were a couple of teeny preemie twin girls. Nobody had thought up ultrasound yet and consequently Mrs TWC wasn't expected and gave them all a bit of a startle.
She's my pride and joy.....
The plan was to get out of town yesterday evening. Enjoy a little soak in the hot tub, and then segue into a sumptious repast at Morgan's in the Desert, followed by a leisurely morning breakfast in the garden with Eggs Benedict at Twenty6.
In Hannibal fashion (Smith not Lector), everything was going according to plan until work reared its ugly head (hers not mine). Big sigh.
On the up side, I was a Boy Scout and I was an awesome patrol food guy. While the other kids were eating cold ceral with chunky milk, our patrol tortured them with the aroma of bacon frying in the morning. Other than that, though, I was the worst Boy Scout ever. I was in it for the camping trips, but somehow, the Be Prepared stuff stuck. Which is why I was compelled to pick me up a couple of lovely New York Strip Steaks to stash. Just in case. They'll do nicely with the bottle of 2004 Silverado Cabernet I just opened.
Can't recall the wine that came to our table that afternoon at Bourbon House, but it wasn't any of these three.
Some will snort and think: Tourist Trap. But they'd be wrong.The service was impeccable. The food was incredibly good. Memories are slippery, except that the awesome Navy Bean soup with spicy Andouille sausage sticks in my mind, something like the way it was meant to stick to the ribs. Just a late lunch with a few friends, spontaneous and serendipitous, something that just happens.