"What do you want to eat for dinner?" I asked.

"Oh, anything would be great."

"I think I'll take yall to Vinny's. We've always loved it and you've never been there. It's Italian."

"I don't want Italian," Daddy says in disgust and if I had suggested raw pig's livers. "I just want regular food."

"Okay, Dad. Define regular. Do you want a hamburger or a steak?"

"Or a chicken fried steak. Or Mexican."

I had avoided Mexican because Mother always seems to have stomach trouble when I take them to eat Mexican. But Mexican sounds fine to her, too, she says.

"Okay, you've never been to Polvos. I'll take you there."

"Polvos? That doesn't sound Mexican, it sounds Polish."

Sure it does Dad. We ate there and it went well enough. I went back to the motel with them and helped carry in Dad's oxygen maker (up the elevator and to the back of the hotel... so much for requesting easy access for the elderly).

Wednesday my brother-in-law also came to town from Tyler. I hadn't seen him in years and he's never visited us here, so that was a real treat. They all came to the cafe for the big show Wednesday night and that made it fun. The b-in-l went on to the gay bars to find friends afterward and Mother and Dad and I ended up at IHOP for a late late dinner.

Thursday we all ate together. Interesting revelation: Just this week my chiropractor was asking about addictions and alcoholism in my family. I gave my standard speech about some alcoholism, but since it is a mostly tee-totaling family you don't know who is susceptible to alcholism since they didn't drink. Of course, our food addictions are another story. At breakfast, my b-in-l, a 19-year sober alcoholic was discussing the disease. My father chimes in that his uncle was an alcoholic. I knew this because Daddy has reviled him before because he would be passed out along with his wife and their house would be filthy with open cans of food out on the counters, etc. But at breakfast, Daddy also brings up that his father would come in from a run (he was a truck driver) and even if it was 9 a.m. he would drink 5 or 6 shots of whisky and then sleep hard through the day. I never had a clue that grandfather ever drank except maybe when my aunt and uncle came to town and brought in some beer or wine. Dad said, "Yes, when he died I must have thrown away 6 big gallon bottles of whiskey that were empty."

The revelation sure makes me wonder what other secrets were in my family that I don't know about. Very interesting, too, that my grandfather (to my father) was not "an alcholic" since he held down a job and obviously functioned in his life. But the passed out uncle with the messy house was certainly an alcoholic.

Anyway...

All the company was gone on Friday and my life is back to normal again. Last night I stayed late at work conversing with my sometimes frustrating co-worker. He was in a mellow mood and talking about some of his frustrations with the old-men-of-the-morning and I was letting him talk. I wanted to get away and join the journalers, but stayed until he'd gotten most of it out of his system. Still found the journalers (Bubba Sean, Kramer, Stephanie, and Greg) on hand at F&A's when I got there. Nice to just sit and visit on a hot Austin night. This morning I got to sleep really late and I needed it. Got my toenails painted a pretty purple and then I went out to the boat place for a remote. Tonight I'm going to the Spoke to see the Geezers. Some of the guys from work are meeting me and having dinner.