Two of our kids went to a lock-in at church, one went to a friend’s house to sleepover and the twins stayed with Frank at I. After dropping the one off at his friend’s house, we headed to a Good Friday service. The boys were well behaved during the quiet, candlelit service. After the service,  we made our way out through the snow (snow, yes I said snow — it was almost all GONE and now it is back again — 100 inches this year) to our car. In the car, Sal reminded us that he wants chicken wings.

“Chicken wings, mom. Dad. Chicken wings.” Slurping sound.

As nonchalant as telling me it is cold out on a early Spring evening. But what do you expect, he’s been dropping desirous chicken wing hints for two weeks now. Frank (or I, don’t remember), thought maybe we could stop somewhere for a bite to eat. Satisfy Sal, and have dinner out with the twins – something we haven’t done in a long time, just the four of us.

Somehow we ended up at Red Robin. The boys both ordered 1/2 orders of wings, Frank a burger and me… I ordered the Whisky River turkey burger (I think that’s the name — it’s got onion straws on it, very yummy). Frank also put an order in for some onion rings. I got a Capitol Brewery Maibock and Frank a Sam Adams. The waitress asked for my ID, which I didn’t have. I told her I had a 16 year old daughter at home and that I was 34. It feels awkward to get ID’d. On one hand it is flattering and on the other irritating because my wallet hugs my ID too tightly, making it cumbersome to remove on request.

We played a game on the paper place-mat while we waited for our food, Frank with Sal and I with Franny. Connect the squares, where you take turns drawing a line to connect the dots, making squares, seeing who gets the most. I won.

The onion rings were delicious, a large tower of onions, stacked on a thin rod and happily dipped in the ranch-y dill or barbecue flavored dips. Our food came soon after the onion tower. I took my bottom bun off (I always eat my burgers with a knife and fork), and the bottom of my turkey burger was… black. Hmm. I took a bite, hoping that it wouldn’t taste as burnt as it looked. It did. Frank concurred after being force-fed a bite.

Everything was so nice I didn’t want to complain. I, nearly apologetically, showed our waitress. Her nose crinkled up, “I’ll get you a new one right away.”

I thanked her and munched on onion rings while I waited. Frank ate slow, apparently feeling badly that I was sans burger as he had his hot in his hands. My new burger arrived in another person’s hands who apologized more than once. She was very nice. I returned her kindness; the burger was perfectly cooked, juicy and delicious. She came back soon after with “Bird Bucks” – ten of them, apologizing again. I had not expected that at all and laughed a bit confirming what I heard was correct, “Bird Bucks” back to her. She rolled her eyes with a good natured smile.

Can’t tell you how many times in the past I would have demanded some Bird Bucks for a charred burger. Last night the thought didn’t cross my mind, though until she brought them out to me. It was a nice gesture. Props to the birds over at Red Robin.

– – –

Today, we dye eggs. Eggs aren’t as cheap as they used to be. Not many Easter seasons ago I remember buying eggs for much less than a dollar. This time of year they’d dip down and sometimes on sale you’d get them for dirt cheap. It was nice because if you bought a few cartons just to dye, it wasn’t a huge waste. Not anymore, not around here at least. Since the sale price ($2 a carton) of the Eggland’s Best eggs wasn’t much different from the sale price of the regular eggs, I bought the Eggland’s Best anticipating some egg salad sandwiches for lunch this week. And now I’m off to see if the twins want to go to the egg hunt. Hunting for eggs in the snow… yay!!