Welcome to Day 5 of The Twelve Days of Christmas (to be “read” like the song) – Dances with Chaos style……………
I know, so incredibly original the concept blows your mind – Matrix style. This will be usurping the usual Tacklerism Tuesday and “What the frak?” Friday segments until completed.
On the fifth day of Christmas, dear Santa gave to me:
Five free dinners!
Four hours of sleep,
Three spares in a row,
Thursday night could have been bad. Very bad.
We’re talking full blown Exorcist – only instead of one Linda Blair, there are at least four.
It was a recipe for disaster.
My incredibly awesome friend from college was so generous (and crazy enough) to open her home to the Chaos Crew for an overnight stay as we braved bone chilling temperatures (anything below freezing qualifies when adapted to Texas weather) in our pilgrimage to Mimi’s House.
Our plan for dinner? Eat out.
Not only did I not want to overburden Katie in her oh-so delicate (but no longer puking) state, but I feared the havoc The Tackler and Diva would cause if given food weapons.
So naturally, the day of our visit the following things occurred:
- I accumulated just short of four hours of sleep the night prior and my brain was about as cognizant as habitual stoner’s, but a lot less happy.
- Lil Diva attempted napping – twice – both times while in transit in the car. The first time was between the airport and lunch. The second and final time was en-route to the gym. I did what I typically do in Texas – headed home to lay her down. We raced back to Katie’s – Lil Diva completely comatose. I opened the car door and removed her – a bitter cold gust of wind slammed into her, woke her from the cozy nap, and thus she only slept about 45 minutes total for the day.
- Katie’s little boy – entrenched in routine that equals a two to three hour nap every day – decided to skip his nap on Thursday.
- The Tackler, per usual, did not nap. At all.
So four exhausted people, plus CG and a pregnant lawyer – who were tired but shy of comatose – ventured out to hunt down dinner.
Place #1 had a wait list.
We didn’t have time for that with our group of party animals.
Place #2 did not – and so we ventured into a local sports bar.
It had the Best Device Ever for Child Entertainment: a touch TV screen.
Still, the plan was to get in and flee like hell before The Meltdowns started.
Escape was not so easy.
I made the mistake of ordering the special: prime rib. In my sleep deprived haze I broke Steak Rule #2 – never order a side of beef in a non-steakhouse restaurant.
But I was starving. And beyond exhausted. I broke the rule.
The first slab of prime rib was inedible. My order of medium rare manifested as well done.
When the waiter finally appeared to inquire about meal enjoyment, I was quick to educate him.
“You killed it.”
“Awesome! It’s good to hear.”
“I don’t think you understand. You KILLED it! It’s dead. I like my prime rib still alive and this is the most well done medium rare beef I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
They grilled another prime rib for me – apologizing profusely.
When it took a while, I became concerned – a medium rare prime rib needs very little grill time.
The second one finally arrived.
Another fail – this time more medium to medium well.
By this time I was almost full from eating the delicious fries. The Tackler lost interest in playing games and roped Katie into playing for him.
Then the establishment did something I have never had happen before:
Our dinner bill with two beverages, three adult meals, and two kid’s meals:
Of course Lil Diva screamed the whole way back to Katie’s because she was so tired, but at least dinner was a surprising oasis from Meltdowns.
And I’d write more, but my eyes refuse to stay open – so beware of typos: if a dead Santa pops up, that is unintentional…
What did your spouse/children/Santa give you today?