Let me start by saying it was a strange, quirky kind of
night.
For once, we were supposed to drive Kevin over to the city
(Gigi may have shamed us into it), but our town went dark about 5:15. What that meant? In addition to my car being held
captive by the garage door opener, a big worry about Gigi coming home from work to a twilight zone town
and into a cold, dark, empty house.
OK, maybe I was projecting my own scaredy cat onto her. So, we sent Kevin without us. So sorry, buddy. We owe you big time.
Once Gigi made plans with someone who had PSE&G
service, Rich and I decided to crash
the party after all. We hopped
into the Jeep (at the ready in the driveway) and headed to Jose Pistola’s. Apparently, Jeanne and Lisa had been
there for quite a while and were enjoying the margaritas. Saving a table for 6, they traded it for
a smaller version upon hearing that we wouldn’t make it. Then, quickly grabbed it again once we
changed course. Kudos to the
patient hostess and waitress for putting up with 3 table switches.
Honestly, from there, it’s a blur. Let’s forget about ranking the food because that was
secondary to the fabulous, good natured waitress who immediately bonded with
Rich because of her “13” tattoos (both of their lucky numbers). Kevin loved the smutty nose beer (a
little too much) and we had to plead with him not to head across the street to
Howl at the Moon. What could have
been an ill-fated evening turned into one of our best.
You just never know.
43 to go!
