Thanks to my friend Steve for introducing me to “The Fruitcake Lady.” (If you’re at work, listen with headphones, as the lady does have a gutter mouth.)
I had brunch with my ex-wife, Donna, and her boyfriend, Rob, at Brigs in North Raleigh. She arrived in her new Jaguar, which is actually a used Jaguar, but a Jag nonetheless.
In spite of it being midweek, we had to wait over a half hour for a table.
Rob and I both had the “special, seasonal,” Eggnog French Toast, and Donna had her standard eggs, grits, and “city” ham. It was all good.
They gave me a few Christmas gifts — a couple of “gadgety” things that Rob had acquired, but doesn’t use, and a product similar to this one — the Loc8tor.
I say similar to this one for two reasons: 1) I’m at Helios and I can’t check the name brand, and 2) I hope it’s not this one, because she spent way too much money on my gift if it is.
I picked up Joe at the airport, which involved a number of times circling while waiting for him to claim his luggage, which in the end, didn’t arrive.
Robert arrived around 5:00, and we had a repeat of Vivian’s Christmas dinner, which included: ham, turkey, Portuguese stuffing, green bean casserole, Sour-cream-bacon mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, gravy, and dinner rolls.
As I typed that, I realized that that’s not all of her dinner, as I didn’t take any of the Portuguese rice or the peas that she also served.
We had a lot of dancers tonight, but there were hardly any bar patrons to speak of. So few, in fact, that Carl decided to forgo the lesson.