Last weekend we flew to Buffalo to attend a cocktail party, and this weekend my sister and her husband visited from Florida, and we celebrated Seamus and Grace's birthdays--they were both born on February 24th, three years apart. Brigid came home for the weekend as well. We all ended up at a nice restaurant downtown, (Commonwealth, for Cville people who are wondering) the menu of which prompted many questions from the children:
What are gooseberries?
What's half a chicken?
What's wild boar?
With the seven of us, plus Grace's friend, plus a friend who stopped by and sat with us, we were the largest and rowdiest table. We went home for birthday cake but Jon and my brother-in-law delayed us by stopping in a bar on the way home from the restaurant. I called Jon to find out why he wasn't at home yet.
Jon: We're in the car.
Me: You're not in the car, you're in a bar.
My sister then called her husband to find out what the story was and I heard her say, "You're not in the car, you're in a bar."
Two men telling the same idiotic lie. How stupid do they think we are? Do they really think we won't notice the thumping music and the noise of many voices in the background? Later, when I asked Jon about this, he said, "We were almost in the car." So we had birthday cake at 11:00pm. Next weekend, I am looking forward to doing nothing.