What I'm thankful for this morning:

Army boots under my coffee table.

Thanksgiving Eve

The veggies are chopped; dips are mixed, pies are cooling. There's a big fat turkey in the frig. The table is set, and the house is tidied to within an inch of it's life. On the small dining table sits the only Thanksgiving decoration I own, one Brian made when he was in Cub Scouts:


Everything's ready to go, I'm heading off to sleep.

Wait.

One more thing.


A note.

My son is on the road right now, from Fort Benning, determined to get home for this holiday. He will be in town in the middle of the night, sometime. There are 2 friends accompanying him, and I can hardly wait to see them in the morning. Brian always left his notes to me in the middle of the floor, and tonight I do the same for him:



I have so much to be thankful for this holiday.

Have a great Thanksgiving, People!

[W]endy

[flash!] Wendy's famous again; [flash!] she just can't stay [snap!] out of the limelight [click!]. She's featured in DC Blogs today.

Check out her Initial faux pas that could have gotten her run off the road!

What's Up?

Thirteen or so years ago, when I was [ahem] in-between husbands, one of my best friends, The Other Lori, and I set off for a vacation with my then-7-year-old son. (I'm sure that the mental damage for a little kid spending a solid week with two crazy women, friends since the age of 10, is still to be uncovered.

On our 6-hour drive to Grand Haven, Michigan, Lori and I decided to teach a few songs from our era to little Brian. History. Culture. Music. Art. We had his best interest in mind, when we began with "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown."

Unfortunately, Lori and simply could NOT sync the words "Bad, bad" no matter how many times we started all over. Our song went

Leroy looked like a jigsaw puzzle with a couple of pieces gone...

He was bad[bad] bad[bad] bad[bad]....OK START ALL OVER! He was bad[bad] bad[bad]... AH FORGET IT!

The song has never been the same for me. I purposefully sing the "bad's" in the wrong places now, because it is forever in my mind, askance. And I like it better that way.

*****

Out on the town Friday night, I ended up eating breakfast with friends at Merry Ann's Diner, around 11 p.m. We were 5, and there were only 2 other diners in the place.

On the way out, while each paid his tab, I toyed with the jukebox, and Marcy joined me. A few quarters borrowed, and apparently we were staying for one song: 4 Non Blondes' What's Up.

The jukebox, silent since we arrived, began to play, and Marcy sang along:

25 year of my life and still
And I'm trying to get up that great big hill of hope

and Charles joined in:

For a destination...

I, not knowing all of the words to any one song, was immediately charmed. Peter and Mike hummed and sang along, and I piped up during the chorus:

And I say hey...
And I say hey what's goin on
And I say hey...
I say hey what's goin' on
And I try, oh my God do I try
I try all the time
In this institution

I watched as the waiter, waitress, and cook, with little to do, approached the front, crossed their arms, and leaned back on the counter, smiling and listening.

And another employee, working in the back, crept out, giggling, and approached a dial on the wall, cranking up the volume a bit for the next chorus.

My friends' voices were being raised, the staff was smiling, and to boot, I turned to find the other two diners with their arms over their heads, doing that "raise the roof" move.

It was surreal. Everyone in the place was tapping their feet! I half-expected little Halie Kate Eisenberg to start tap dancing across the counter to the latest Pepsi jingle.

And then the song ended.

And we left.

And for the rest of my life, I will hear that song as "Friday in Merry Ann's."

I'm curious.

What are YOUR songs and YOUR scenarios? Please share. Really, I love all you guys'es stories!

And here's a song in your head:

This Just In

I just sat down to multiple (2) emails from friends informing me of the lastest AOL/HBO plan for a new broadband channel called "This Just In." Here's a summary:

AOL has partnered with HBO to launch "This Just In," a new comedy-themed broadband channel set to go live sometime during the first quarter of 2007. The new site will feature a heavy dosage of video content, including lots of topical comedic performances, as well as a blogging platform which will allow the site's audience to comment on the days events — ranging from politics to pop culture.

Tsk. What a gross oversight on their part: "This Just In" has already been done! Won't their faces be red when they find out that they're stomping all over MY little blogfeet.

My immediate plan of action is to be gracious and understanding. I will sit back and wait for their apologies in the form of fruit and floral baskets. Truckloads of them. And maybe a few all-expense paid trips to one red-carpet affair or another.

Either that, or I'll ride their coat tails and bask in the staggering number of hits on my site meter.

Either one is fine with me.

I'm weird too.

I've been tagged by Wendy. Blog assignment: To name 5 odd things about myself. Gosh, I'll see if I can narrow it down to just 5.

1. I love the smell of Vicks Vaporub. I blogged about it year ago, and how my parents made me eat it when I was a kid. I hated that, but I still love the smell of it.

2. Likewise, I love Nyquil. The Green Death Nyquil. It's the best thing about being sick.

3. Grilled cheese sandwiches MUST be served with catsup. Period. And you can't spread the catsup on the sandwich, you have to make a well on the plate and dip-and-bite.

4. I sit on my feet while I work, and often while I drive. As a result, I have a callus on the top of my foot, and have worn a hole in the fabric of my chair at work.


4a. I carry a small camera with constantly, so that if I have an emergency such as "I need a photo of my work chair so I can blog it," I will be prepared.

5. Every weekday morning before I leave the house, I repeat, outloud, "purse, phone, coffee, bag." It's a trick my friend Rob taught me a few years ago. I used to forget at least one of those things regularly, but haven't since I began the ritual.

There you are, I'm sure I'll think of a million others later.

I tag Stephen Bess, Gamera, Momo, Maladjusted, and Tangental C.

And you.

Still shakin' it off...

I'm standing in the kitchen, when my son races in. He is wearing his army fatigues, and he's frantic. He's been looking for me. "Come with me, Mom! Hurry!"

He takes my hand and runs, with me in tow. "Keep up, Mom. We have to hurry, come ON. Please Mom. Hurry."

And we stop, in the middle of nowhere. There is a long, low, mound of earth, like a speed bump, in the middle of the earth. There are a few other soldiers milling about. Waiting. "Ok," my son says. "I have to go now. I have to go now..." and his voice catches in a sob, as he hugs me, "I have to say goodbye." I don't understand why we're crying....

...and I awake, Sunday morning, sitting up, and crying, myself. I stumble out of bed, and walk, robotlike, to the kitchen, and start the coffee. I'm wiped out. Depressed. Shaken. It's quiet in this house. I sit on the couch, and listen to the coffee drip into the carafe, and to my own breathing.

And, when I can't shake off that dream, even after coffee, I pick up my phone and dial my son, with whom I just spoke, yesterday. I don't really know what to say to him; I'm embarrassed to tell him the truth. Instead, I say, meekly, "Hi. Um. I just wanted to say hi." "Really?" he asked "is everything ok?" I stutter my confession: "ok, fine. I had a crazy dream, and I just needed to hear your voice."

He laughs. "I'm all right, Mom."

"It's silly, I know, but..."

"It's all good, Mom. I'm all right."

"Ok. Thank you. You have a fun day, ok? I love you."

"Love ya too, Mom."

Ugh. Where did this come from? Pix he sent home yesterday? A friend's asking about him, and his future, yesterday? My noting, the night before, that the movie "Jarhead" is for sale at Blockbuster? I reminisced that I'd asked Brian to go see that with me, then withdrew my invitation, thinking my imagination might run amok while he was in bootcamp?

Well. The bottom line is he's fine, folks. Here are a few he sent home to Mama yesterday.






And one more thing: Thank you for your vote for the Democratic party last week. My nightmares are some mother's realities right now. Pray, people, pray!

Nobody Nose the Trouble I've Seen...

I blogged, earlier, about a chronic earache I'd been having, and instructions from the doctor to blow air through my ears. It didn't work. I was referred to an ENT (Ears/Nose/Throat) specialist, whom I saw yesterday.

After a hearing test, poking and prodding of every orifice in my head ensued. Then the doctor pulled out a little spray gun, and informed me he was going to numb the inside of my nose. And then a different spray gun (I hope) to numb my throat. He warned me, "this stuff doesn't taste very good." It sure did not; I couldn't keep myself from shuddering and spitting the word "Gyak!"

He left the room for about 5 minutes to let that rat-poison numbing crap take effect, leaving me to wonder WHY we were numbing things up.

He returned and took another peek up each nose-hole, and then tapped around on my teeth and tonsils with a few instruments. I was innocently thinking "well, that was nothing! I'm pretty sure I could have tolerated that without all of this numbing stuff! Sheesh."

It was then that he said "I'm just going to put this light down your throat and take a look."

I opened wide: Ahhhhh....

To my surprise, he inserted a cord into my NOSE, as he said, "this is just a little light."

"Wow," I was thinking, "that must be one bright light. You put it in my nose, and it lights up my entire head so much that you can see my throat? Well. Ain't technology grand!"

But he kept pushing that thing further and further in, all the while talking about my throat, and it finally dawned on me: "Holy shit. He is going to snake that thing through my head!!!" And he proceded to do just that, until I felt it poke into my throat.


For the record, it is quite unsettling to feel a cord winding right through a bypass in your head in which you had never been physically aware. So unsettling that I didn't even think of getting a photo of it for my blog!

Please say "eeeeeeeeeeeee" the doctor said.

I made some a guttural noise that sounded more like "cckkkkkkkkkkeeeehhhhhhhhhh" than "eeeeee" but he said that was fine anyway.

And then the retraction, which was just as creepy as the insertion, but at least it was over.

And here's the final diagnosis:

I don't have an Ear, Nose, or Throat problem.

I have TMJ: Temporo-Mandibular Joint dysfunction. I actually had therapy for this some years ago, and haven't had problems with it since then. Until now. Essentially, the jaw joint on the left side of my face is so inflamed that it's give me one hell of an earache, for 4 months.


I walked away with a prescription, and instructions to see an oral surgeon if it doesn't cause any relief.

In summary I've had 3 doctor appointments, $90 worth of co-pays, one roto-rooting through my head, and I got a prescription for:

Ibuprofin.

Wish me (and yourselves) luck that I don't blog about this again.

I'm in arrears!

Wait! I'm not done talking yet! I'm so behind! I'm just now getting around to wrapping up Halloween. We'll move on to Thanksgiving in a minute.

I like Halloween, though I don't actively participate any more. Dressing up to sit unseen in a cubicle all day long seems moot, and there are no trick-or-treaters in my 'hood. Still, I like to head downtown and check out other, more spirited souls.

I met Momo and Woof at Cafe Kopi on Halloween eve, and settled in to watch the fun. Upon arriving, Woof mentioned that there was a crazed clown walking around with a real machete. We paid him little mind.

But as we sipped our beverages, that clown walked into the cafe, carrying about 18 balloons. And a machete, and he was splattered with blood. He had a creepy, low, walk, and I swear to God I began to hyperventilate when he sidled right up to our table. It was the scariest thing I'd ever had standing before me, and to boot, he was emitting a weird, badger-like, giggle. Momo and I involuntarily moved our chairs closer together, while our clown kept hissing.


Just as I was sure he was going to split my head open aka Slingblade, I said to Momo, "Is that J-j-j-j-j-joel?" Marcy repeated the question, and he said "YES!" He IS Joel!

I squinted at him. Yeah, right. I could have said "Is that 'Bob?' " and he might have agreed to that too. Could I see some ID? I guess clown pants down have pockets for ID, and I just had to take his word for it. I was never quite convinced, as you can see from my body language in this picture.


To this day, I'm not entirely convinced I was standing next to any Joel at all. I mean, here's a pic of the clown, next to the guy he claims to be:


Hm. I'm probably lucky to be alive today.

But so is he. Momo told me that she was entering into a "Fight or Flight" phase of anxiety, readying to open a big 'ol can of Momo-Whoop-Ass on that clown. She'd do it too; look at this poor guy:

(Seriously, do not EVER say to her, "I'm glad you're not MY wife.")

Anyway, Clown, or Joel, or whoever you are, you can clearly see that YOU are the lucky one, barely escaping with your life from our mild-mannered coffee shop.

Take THAT!

(I'm still going to go ahead and sleep with the lights on for at least another week.)

I did it. Did you?

For those of you that voted, here's a special song from Marcy-Darcy, Story-Telling Bimbo A-Go-go, Of a Thousand Faces.

On Talking to Oneself

One of my favorite stand-up comedians, Drew Hastings, does a bit about acquiring a kitten, so as not to appear so crazy when he talks to himself. One line, in a routine called L.A. Observations, goes

"This town is full of shit!! People are rude, they're uncivil, and they don't know talent when they see it!...." He continues, in a syrupy tone, "do they, kitty?"

Ya'll know I'm empty nesting. The kid has flown the coop. The temp. roommate spends little time here these days. And the kitty is in kitty heaven now.

Daylight savings and oncoming winter find me rattling around inside my house a few more hours than usual, and I swear to God: I am turning into a certifiable, talking-to-myself nutjob!

Cuckoo! Cuckoo! I start a conversation with myself the minute I get home: "What is THIS?" I ask, as I pull an unknown bill out of the mailbox. I continue inside, as I open it: "$20?!! For WHAT? I paid my co-pay!"

I putter around the house, and think about issues that frustrate me. "What the hell is wrong with you!," I will say to no one, as I scrub the kitchen sink, deep in thought. Or, while remembering something funny a friend said, I find myself laughing, and saying "you crack me up."

It's disturbing really. Bad enough that I'm talking to the freakin' houseplants, but I often can't control myself in public places. I stand in the produce aisle and announce "2.99?! I don't think so!!" and I recite my grocery list to myself: "tea, I need tea, and don't forget the veggie sausages."

Good Lord! Am I on a downward spiral to the loony bin? Is there such a thing as middle-age onset of Tourettes? Because I think I might have that too; I'm suddenly prone to crazy outbursts. While I walk and think, I might exclaim "WhatEVER!!!" or "Jesus!" in an exasperated tone.

So as to present an edumacated post, I did a Google search on "talking to yourself." Well, didn't I shed some new light on this situation! The first link I read stated:

"What's really bizarre about this is that the act of talking to ourselves is actually a sign that we are self-aware and that we seek insight into our own actions. "

It is proof that I'm a higher species, this particular report goes on to say.

Higher Species! Ha! I'm NOT mad as a hatter after all! I'm brilliant! "Brilliant!" I just said outloud, to my laptop.


Most of the other sites I scanned indicated that yammering to oneself is normal, but not considered an acceptable American societal norm. "Try to keep your voice down" is the general advice.

Ok. I can do that. In the meantime, I'm following Drew Hasting's lead. Well, kind of. I'm setting up an aquarium.


Really. Doesn't this guy look like a good listener? I'll keep the higher species stuff to myself though; I'm sure he won't want to hear it.

I'm off now, to seek more insight.

What? Oh. Nothing. Hit "Publish Post," Lori, and go to bed. Oh. Did I say that outloud?

Another Rise to the Challenge

I'm just going to consider this a "Guest Blog." These photos and great stories came from my dear friend Kaye, and they're worth an entry of their own. I met Kaye in our workplace in 1987, can you believe it? I'm still at the same company, while she has gone on to bigger and better things. She's a massage therapist, and a damned good one. Let me know if you need me to hook you up with a massage-to-die-for.

Here are HER words:

***************

The things I have on the shelf around my massage room all have special stories and significance to me. Here are a few.

[This] pic is stuff that was my mom's. Things that were familiar and comforting in our home when I was growing up. I miss her a lot. Tomorrow would be her 90th birthday.




The Christine pic...ah, Christine. She was a client and a friend. I saw her every week, sometimes twice a week for about 6 or 7 years. One Christmas she gave me the candle in the center. I went to her home, because of her health issues she was unable to get out much (even though she was only in her fifties). The animal napkin rings on each side of the candle sat on her entryway table near where I gave her massage. After she passed away, I was able to get those as a reminder of the wonderful, awesome woman she was. You would have loved her. She was a poet, bawdy, irreverent, sweet and compassionate, and totally engaged in life in spite of her pain.




Burma is an even longer story I will try to condense. In the late '70s I traveled for 5 weeks in Asia with this guy who I used to date, but had met a woman I fell for after I had made my travel arrangements and before the trip. (Lousy timing) We spent a long week in Burma, flew into Rangoon. Then took a train to Mandalay. We travelled 3rd class. It wasn't until we were on the train, Wayne informed me it was a 14 hour trip. We had no food or water with us. I was furious at him. He was furious at me.

It was sweltering in Burma. No air conditioning in 3rd class. No dining car. I was becoming delirious with hunger and thirst. I wondered how sick could I get if I sucked on some of the Wash 'n Dry's that my aunt had sent with me. Pretty darned sick I imagined. And embarassing for my family to get the autopsy report that she died of Wash 'n Dry toxicity.

I kept wiping my sweat with Wash n' Dry's. A Burmese guy across the aisle watched me, intrigued with my Wash n' Dry's. He didn't speak English and me no speak Burmese. But he pantomimed and I understood that he connected the WnDs with airplanes. He was delighted. I gave him a couple of packs. (My aunt had given me about 500). He was thrilled.

At the next stop, he got off of the train. He came back with a beautiful basket of grapes that he presented to me. The basket is in the photo. Wayne snarled that I couldn't eat the grapes because they were contaminated and I would get sick. I knew I couldn't get sicker than I already was from the fruit juice I drank in Bangladesh. "I'm eating these!" I informed him. I'm so nice, though, that I shared them with him. He insisted that we pop the flesh out of the skins and not eat the skins.

So the basket means a lot to me. The picture beside it is one of 2 handpainted greeting cards I bought in Mandalay.

**************

It's me again. Lori here. Don't you just *love* these stories and photos? I'm verklempt!

Thanks to Kaye, and also to the rest of you, who are still commenting and e-mailing with intentions of playing along. I am so far touched to my very core with everything I've seen and read here.

Challenges, III

WhooHoo! More promises to rise to the challenge, in both comments and e-mails. There's no deadline folks, keep 'em coming!

Dogath's Domain has delivered! What fun! Dragons. gorgeous chessboards and Chinese artifacts; there's some great stuff here. If I owned this stuff, they'd be my favorites too. Seriously.

Thanks for sharing, DD.

Last Minute Lyn has played also. I love the plant story, and there's some more cool stuff you should check out here.

Barry's up and running from Baghdad! Whoop!

12:30 Thursday: I just got an email from reader/commenter "AZ," with these photos and this explanation:

Not just a teapot collection, but a walk through memory lane; every pot is a place I've been, a bargain found, a treasure collected, a memory kept, and a friend or co-worker remembered.

The cat cookie jar (Puss n Boots top picture lower right) is a treasure purchased by my significant other's mother during WWII while she waited for the return of her husband.

AZ: Thanks so much for sharing; great pix, great stories.

Challengee's Responses

I decided to post links to those that posted a response to the household pictorial challenge in a separate entry, so's they don't get lost in the chaos.

Playah #1: Doh! Nancy beat me to this by a year.

Playah #2: Larry Jones was on the same wavelength as I was, this weekend.

Playah #3: Sveny has responded to my slap with a white glove. Stay tuned.

Numero Quatro: Barry's going to play, if Baghdad Internet and Blogger allow!

Cinco: Andy T's in Please hold.

Playah VI: Score! Finding Blanche has a few of her favorite things up here!

7. Kimber the wolfgrrl linked to these gorgeous dishes, just like her own.



Ocho: Ilaiy sent me this photo, taken from his cell phone. Mmmm, cardamom and ginger crushed together in this thing for delicious tea, as I remember.

Commentary & A Blogger Challenge

I had a lovely, late sleep this morning, shuffling into my living room at 9 in the a.m. This is what one corner of my living space looked like:

In addition, I have crystals that throw multi-color rainbows in various shapes and sizes throughout my home, when the sun is shining just so.

Thing is, I'm a working stiff (who isn't?), and am rarely in my own home to witness that which I've set up. I relish mornings in which I can lounge in PJs, sip coffee, and watch the natural light show that I've set up in my home.

Today, I was reminiscent of Morphological Confetti's last blog entry, "The D.C. I See." Stephen's blog moved me, as it always does, because what most people are racing by and missing, he is capturing in thoughts and photography. And I'm pretty sure he's racing to his own job, and taking care of his own family and his own daily responsibilities and obligations, as we are. But he tunes in.

I contemplated my home. I think that we also often miss things in our own homes. We are busy acquiring STUFF. Stuff that we MUST have, STUFF that gives us joy to bring home and unwrap, and set about our space. And STUFF that we often give little thought to, once we acquire it: There! Mine! Now what?

As coffee was brewing this morning, I got out my camera, and I looked around my house, and I took a few shots of a few things I like.

This spider plant, dumped into a bowl I got for $2 at a garage sale this summer. It sat outside on my porch until I brought it in for winter.



This guy. I've had him for years, and used him for both visual aid and decorative touch.


A small leather purse. You may think you've read about it before, but you haven't. It was begifted to me by a friend after I wrote about a different leather purse just like it, last Mother's Day. It sits now, in front of one of my favorite pictures of my son.


This photo hangs inside my front door. These are the shoes of the boys that crashed in my den during their teen years, playing PS2, IM'ing girls (sometimes even me, in the next room), and eating me out of house and home.



MY BLOG CHALLENGE FOR YOU

Would you all be willing to slow down for just one second, and find one or two material items in your house that bring you joy/memories/sentiment?

Will you photograph them and put them on your blog, or write about them, if you don't have a camera?

If you don't have a blog, send me a photo, and I'll post it, with your blessing.

Those that play, let me know, and I will link to you here.

It's not that I want to place excess value on material items. It's just nice to slow down and acknowledge those things that put a smile on our face. We need not to rush by them.

Spread the word: Game On.

Saturday afternoon in photos

"Severe wind advisory" was weather.com's report for today, but Severe Sun lured me to a'wandering about with the camera for the afternoon. I had no idea where I'd end up, but I managed to get there, in 4 hours time.

First stop was UI Athletic fields, filled with several frisbee football games. A tough sport on "severe wind" day. Those with the wind consistently overshot their boundaries, while those against battled wobbly, tipping tosses. It was the first time I've used the "sports" mode on the new camera, and I was pleased with the results.




This at the cemetary on St. Mary's Road:



I stopped into Jane Addams, a downtown used bookstore. Though I usually like this place, I found it chaotic and overwhelming today. Blindly browsing through a million billion books was not for me on this afternoon. Still, I like the look of the place, and would have taken more pictures if I'd felt I wasn't interfering with other, more serene, browsers.




Taken out of my car window, at Crystal Lake Park (because no single female in her right mind gets out of her car in that park):


And my favorite for the day, also taken out of my car window. This one in Urbana, in the neighborhood East of Lincoln Square. Apparently this gardener had had it up to here! These signs were posted on each corner of her lot, causing me to hit the brakes and back up for a quick snap. If you can't read it here, click to enlarge.

Chestnut Surprise

I was in the mood, Sunday, for some Udon noodle soup, so stopped into Am-Ko to pick up a few essentials. I rounded the corner to the produce to find the scene above: 6-8 women giggling and carrying on, and hovering over baskets of somethings.

What is it? That's where they usually set the live crabs. Remember years ago when my kid grabbed the tongs and pinched my leg, setting me flailing about that very aisle?

But it's not crab season, and I just couldn't help myself: I nudged right up between them, to get a peek. Just as I was determining that there was something in a hard shell, one of the women turned and smiled. "I'll bet you're wondering what we're doing, aren't you?"

Honestly, yes. I am.

"It's chestnuts" she told me. "We love them." And she proceeded to share with me 2 or 3 different techniques for cooking chestnuts, telling me to be sure to split them first, "or they'll blow up."

I didn't end up buying any chestnuts, but I did stand back and watch these women, scooping up enormous bags of them. It was nice, observing another "Girls' Night out" in a different setting. One that was a bit culturally different from my own, but still the same. Clearly strong friendships. Lots of laughing. A bit of shopping. Promises of cooking. Maybe a little gossiping. And saying "hey, hi" to a suddenly-shy girl watching from the sidelines.

It's nice to accidentally end up in a place in which you feel blessed to have been there for a particular moment.

I left smiling, and wishing that I'd had the nerve to go ahead and try to cook a chestnut. I don't get it: how do you split a chestnut? And I'm just not sure what to do with one, once I get it cooked up. How do you even know when it's done? It's in a shell!

But I'm not one to pass up an adventure, especially one handed to me on a silver platter. So, by God, I'll go back this weekend and pick out my own bag of chestnuts, if there are any left.

And, if I blow up my kitchen? Well. At least I tried.

Sam's Cafe

Boy, did we ever get a good tip a few weeks ago: Sam's Cafe, in downtown Champaign, is now serving Lebanese food on Thursday and Friday nights from 4:30 to 10:30.

I repeat, this is downtown Champaign, on Walnut Street. It's right in the middle of the block that houses Cafe Kopi, Bacaro, and Radio Maria. Since the diner is usually only open for breakfast and lunch, there are an amazing number of Downtown Nightowls that aren't even aware the place exists.

Our party of 10 swooped in last Friday night around 7:00. The owners were friendly and encouraged us to move as many tables together as we needed. The food was phenomenal. And get this: dinners run $6.50 each.

You heard me right.

Here's a few of the plates we ordered Friday night. All were served with warm pitas on the side, and there are more on the menu that aren't pictured here.

Chicken, tabouleh, garlic sauce

Dolmas to share

Falafef, hummus, tabouleh

Ummm...sorry, I missed just what this is.
I'm not a real restaurant critic, I just play one on blogger.

Yeesh, I missed what this is too, but Atef seems to be enjoying it.

Salad! Yum!

Everything about this place is right up my alley. Give me a small, family-run diner with knock-your-socks-off food over a franchise any day. No contest. With places like this in our town, you'd have to drag me kicking and screaming into a Chili's or an Applebee's.

So, Eat at Sam's.

Oh, and the opinions expressed here are also endorsed by a few of my friends:

If we can't convince you to try this place out, no one can.

Autumn Days

I'm taking advantage of gorgeous fall days, hitting the road and playing with the camera. It even smells beautiful.

Back to it, will blog ya latah.