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Overcast When life gives you lemons
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Although food is my business, and I take it pretty seriously, when I’m out with my husband Jerry and friends on a Saturday night, I usually order the same thing. Toasted English muffin or scooped out bagel with butter and jelly on the side. I like to decide how many calories I’m going to smear on. It’s as simple as that. No questions to the waitress. When Jerry orders, now that’s a whole different ball game. |
It goes something like this: “I’m not sure what I want, maybe ice cream. What flavors do you have?” She replies, “Vanilla, chocolate and strawberry.” Then Jerry asks, “Any other flavors?” I try to hold myself back from saying, “Why would you think there would be any other flavors, you think she’s hiding some from you?” But of course, I can’t hold back. He then asks her what she recommends. “I really don’t eat desserts.”
At this point I’m losing my patience, which was pretty much lost as soon as he started placing his order. “Just get what you like, what do you care what she likes?” I asked, or shall I say, I demanded. Jerry placed his order for all three flavors, large scoops of each. This time I hold myself back from asking him if he thought they had different size scoopers. Just as she’s about to walk away Jerry asked, “Do you any bagels? Can I have one toasted?” “Of course,” she replies, “what would you like on the bagel, butter or cream cheese?” Jerry asked her what she liked. She said she liked butter, and he said “butter it is then.” Not that I was jealous of the waitress, but for the life of me I couldn’t understand what Jerry was doing.
“Why would you order butter on your bagel? You never order butter. You always have cream cheese on your bagels. I’m the one who orders butter. Why would you order what someone else likes?” I know I shouldn’t care, but it gets me crazy when he does stuff like that.
