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Once upon a time, I was a little more international. I spent more time in Europe. My father-in-law was Parisian. My mother-in-law was from Mexico City. I spoke a little of both. I spent more time with people from other countries and less time with people from my own. So long ago it seems… like another life. I loved them both… love them both. I suppose time has its way of prioritizing consciousness. I suppose a tiny bit of it was distancing myself from their poison daughter, but mostly it was nearsightedness. I did miss them at times and thought of them periodically. It wasn’t until I spent a few moments with them early last week that I truly acknowledged just how much I would like them to be part of my life again. We made plans for dinner two Mondays later… this Monday… tonight. Unable to secure a table at Chez Nous (my first choice), we agreed to meet at the new Trulucks location on Westheimer. The service was satisfactory. The food was good. The company was great. My only complaint about the meal rings true for every place I’ve been out for a nice dining experience… the fucking grape juice is entirely too expensive. $60 for three glasses of wine is insane when I know what the bottle of that vintage costs. Serve me some mystery shit that I’ll never discover details of… shit grown in the Amazon basin by pygmies that swim with piranha and mash the grapes with severed monkey feet on stilt legs. Don’t tell me that, but serve it with that sort of mystery allure. Don’t pour a $22 bottle into four glasses and charge me almost as much per glass. You are an idiot because you know that I know that you know this affects my dining experience. After dinner, I met Jenny (Ted’s wife) for a Cabernet before heading north to the homestead. I’ve been wrestling a Yorkie for the last 20 minutes and am wet and pink with Yorkie spit and teethmarks. I think he’s ready for bed now. Sweet dreams peops.