Monday, March 10, 2008

Just another maniac Monday

(How has a whole week gone by since my last post? I am missing a few days somewhere, and it has nothing to do with fermented fruit beverages. Nor grain beverages. Nor illicit pharmaceuticals, or even yarn fumes. I'm so confused....)

My Mom was in town for work last week, and spent Friday night with us. Saturday morning, she took Mr.Q and I out for breakfast. We thought we'd try a new-to-me diner in our neighbourhood. We used to go to a new, funky little restaurant in the 'hood, but it got too trendy and our last few experiences there haven't been the greatest. So we were on the lookout for something different. We found just the place: cozy, tasty, cheap, and super-friendly. (I have to say, I found it pretty amusing when the waitress, definitely not much older than I am, kept calling my mother "Sweetheart")

(Note the artful concealment of the diner's name....we've decided to keep it TOP SECRET, so we can avoid the invasion of trendiness that spoiled our previous breakfast joint.)

While waiting for our meal, Mr.Q does his Jean Chretien impersonation:

Personally, I think he looks more like Sam the Eagle. Though he may just have been pouting coz I got him with a wet willy. (Coz really, I am eight years old.) Mom, of course, was totally impressed with both of us:

(I couldn't remember whether I had promised not to post a picture of her, but when I called to ask, Dad assured me that I had promised to post...Just doing what I'm told!)

Mom asked me to make her a pair of fingerless gloves, so after breakfast we headed up to the yarn store to find her something tasty. Problem is, the neighbourhood in which the store is located is always stupid-busy on Saturdays, and parking is darned near impossible. As we got close, Mr.Q asked me to sing our little mantra, praying to the Parking Gods.

Let me tell you, I am now convinced of the power of prayer. This is the view out the passenger window from our parking spot:

And if that wasn't enough, this was the view of the parking metre waiting for us:


(And if anybody's got a minute, send Barb some happy-safe-moving thoughts... 'twasn't so long ago Mr.Q and I made a similar-though-not-nearly-so-far kind of move, and it was more than a bit of a mind-f**k. And we did it without kids. So - Good luck, Cooper Clan!)


Anonymous said...

Nice to kno Dad's have influence. Even if it's permissive and really token!

Rabbitch said...

Man, I really really love good breakfast places.

And I realy really hate waitresses who are overly familiar and call people "sweetheart".

I'm torn. If they do eggs benny I promise not to get all stabbity with my fork if you go there for a celebratory breakfast with me once the job is over ...

Rebecca said...

Oh, I love hidden, little diners. Breakfast is my favorite meal to eat out - and if you can find a great place, even better. None of those where I live, have to drive 40-60 minutes to find one. Breakfast would be fabulous right now - even though it's 6:50pm.

That whole "sweetheart" thing is annoying. There is a ton of it here in the South. One of my students even had the impudence to call me that once. Mostly it is cashiers, waiters, etc., and you get the sweetie, honey, dear, etc., as well.

Jelaina said...

Will have to check that out... someday soon..