Today's search term favorite which brought someone here: idle devil. Not that this is all that weird, but I wonder what the person who typed that into google was hoping to find. Not this blog, I'm guessing.
It's been a pretty good weekend so far, marred only by the fact that I should be working -- yes, right now, even as I'm writing this. Started yesterday at yoga with Kim from Pagooey (less kick-your-butt hard than last week and more that "wow, I feel great!" feeling that you hope for with yoga), followed by books and naps, followed by dinner at my used-to-be-favorite Chinese restaurant, Choys, then we ditched our plans to see the Aviator in favor of sitting around at home eating ice cream and watching Carey Grant in "How to Catch a Thief."
Around dinner time yesterday I was feeling slightly at loose ends with myself - it was a hard week, for one, and I've been having low grade stomach problems all week in that I feel just slightly nauseous just about all the time. Not enough to be actually sick or not function, but enough that all food sounds gross. So I was hungry and not wanting anything and unable to come up with any suggestions. Brett, bless him, suggested Choys, which we haven't been to in over two years. In the car on the way I asked him why he thought of that.
"Well, when you're needing comfort food you always like chicken and broccoli," he said, which is 100 percent correct but something I'd never thought of.
"Wow, you're getting really good at this married thing," I replied.
Choys itself was quite funny - it's been the weekend for weird restaurant experiences. I don't want to say anything bad about them because this is the place that fed me dinner at least once a week for something like five years (my favorite delivery place when I lived in Queen Anne), but it was for sure an off night.
We got there around six thirty, and were pleased to see about half the tables were open, if uncleared. So we sat down to wait. Twenty minutes or so later, the one harried waitress serving the whole place had not yet cleared any tables for us. We only got a table because one rather angry-looking couple who'd obviously been waiting to place an order for a long time got up and left, and we slid into their table. Throughout the rest of the meal, people came in, waited a while for a table, never got one, and eventually left to go elsewhere. By the time we left, of the twelve or so tables in the restaurant, two were occupied with diners and TEN were covered in dirty plates. We never saw her clear a one, the whole time we were there.
We blame the Sonics. Queen Anne is a crazy place when there's a Sonic's game. Clearly someone had called in sick or something and the poor waitress was just over her head. But still - we had to go up and get plates from her after she brought our platters of food, and we ended up drinking the water left by the previous folks because we never got any of that either. We kept joking that if she'd just give us a tray we'd clear a few tables for her.
Afterwards we walked over to a used bookstore nearby (as much to pet their cats as to look at books) and then came back by the restaurant fifteen minutes later or so. Still no cleared tables, and only one diner. Yikes.