Or maybe not...

Ordinarily, I carry a small notebook with me for the safe keeping of random thoughts and observations. From time to time I will work on ideas for novels. On the rare occasion that I don't have the notebook I jot things down on napkins, receipts, business cards – which is pretty tricky as they are quite small and sometimes the same color as my pen. Of course, none of these work without the pen. Which is attached to the notebook. Which was in the trunk of our car on Friday when we went out for dinner. Which was too bad as the observations were running rampant.

At least, if the texts from my husband can be believed:

Whole Milk

Got Legs

With tennis balls.

Delmar Gardens

Don't say butterscotch in here.

This particular restaurant is in a neighborhood of the Coast that feels more like New Orleans than the Midwest. Customers and residents alike are a mix of twenty and up year olds; employed, not employed; more hippie than hipster. There was a ballgame in town on Friday so there was a fair share of Redbird fans grabbing a local beer and some ettouffee before taking the shuttle to the ballpark. Our food was delish – of course. But as we finished our meal and the waiter refilled our wine glasses we noticed a higher ratio of polyester and sensible shoes.

Which explains the Delmar Gardens reference.That and the fact that the patio now has a metal sign which says 'GARDEN' hanging on a fence which I can only assume is to remind the more drunk patrons where they actually are. And you can't say GARDEN in the vicinity of my husband and polyester without the addition of DELMAR. (Delmar Gardens is a well known retirement/nursing home here on the Coast.)*

It gets a little fuzzy from here. Probably in direct relation to the wine. Which, naturally, led to the vision of a Milk tasting at the nursing home:

Ooo, Milk.

swirl milk in wine glass

Great legs. Has to be Whole Milk.

sip, swish, inhale through mouth full of milk

Mmmmm, Legs so long they are gonna need those little tennis balls...

And this, naturally led to the creation of Kinky Bingo. Which I am refraining from discussing here as I feel this may be my golden ticket to those precious retirement dollars which will land me in a primo room at the aforementioned Gardens. I will mention that as we were discussing said game, we both raised our hands and whispered BINGO! at which point a waitress walking past us raised her hands in response.

I have no idea where Butterscotch entered the playing field. So I will leave you with this thought:

Would you be charged with disturbing the peace if you were to shout, in a crowded nursing home dining room, "Look! A bag of unattended Butterscotch Candies!"?

*Delmar Gardens is a lovely and well respected retirement/nursing center and in no way is it being suggested that the people that live there only wear polyester, drink milk or play Kinky Bingo. There is some research that does point to an increased interest in Butterscotch Candies after the age of sixty. Butterscotch Candies and Butter Brickle ice cream. (It was a pretty extensive research project.)