Nastia's twenty-sixth birthday

Nastia’s birthday, this year, is on a Tuesday. It’s a tough day of the week to do anything so we waited for Saturday. We told Nastia we didn’t want to go to the restaurant where you cook your own food. I don’t remember its name, only that it is in the Palisades Mall, fourth floor. She picked Gilligan’s in Mt Ivy. We’ve been there before and it is nice. I try to make a reservation for six. They don’t take reservations, only call ahead seating. So as we head toward the restaurant, I call and tell them we will be there in about a half an hour. We are a party of eight. Originally we were a party of nine, but Jesse, Nastia’s friend, the one with the son, said she couldn’t make it.

The weather for late November, early December has been unusually warm, fifties most of the time, so everyone has a lighter than normal jacket. We are seated in the glass enclosed part of the restaurant and it is always cooler there, than the other part of the restaurant. It was cool, not really cold. If it had been a normal December we would have been cold. I took some pictures of Sean and Nastia so I have them for the blog. In all of the pictures I see Sean looking up toward heaven. I’m wondering if he is praying to God for something or is he telling God he really has been good and doesn’t deserve coal for Christmas, I really don’t know. So I actually ask him why he is always looking up. He points to a rather large TV to the right and behind me that I had to walk by to get to my seat. There is a football game on it. I’m not the football fan I used to be, so I didn’t even notice it.

The food is good, Nastia gets a bucket of mussels, like usual. Elena asks to get some calamari and of course the bread is really tasty. Teri begins to warn everyone there is a lot of food coming. I gave up on that years ago when Elena would eat bread, an appetizer and salad. When the main course came she wouldn’t touch it and she’d take it home. I’d ruin the fun of eating out, so I stopped.

Elena did channel her past self this night. She ate bread, the appetizer and salad. At the end of the night she took most of her main dish home, but not one yell and made someone else unhappy. I’m still shocked at the price of going out these days. There was a whole lobster on the menu with something else, I hope and the price for it was sixty-two dollars. We bought a whole bunch of cash, but no alcohol was ordered, so it was a little less than we figured. My mom had leftovers. She said she warmed up for her and Bruce a day or two later. I think the leftovers we took home ended up getting thrown out the following Sunday night. I’m not sure. I do remember Teri showing me three shiny metal containers saying she is just going to throw it all out without opening them. After thirty-two years together, thirty married, I’ve learned to not ask too many questions.