Our server was a big fan of the royal 'we."
"How are we tonight?!? Have we dined with us before?!? Have we had a chance to look at the menu?!?! Do we want to start with cocktails?!?!"
I dared my mother to ask, "Do we know where the bathroom is?!?!"
But the best line coming out of this guy, who again, will one day want to see a sunset from the edge of some cliff and end up dying as he beams, "Gnarley!" came immediately after our first courses were served.
He bounced over to our table, popping his head under the canvas umbrella and wide-eyed, asked, "Is everything delicious at the onset?!?!"
Eight pairs of eyeballs stared back at him, stunned to silence. Even my father, who is normally oblivious to these things, was amused.
As soon as he walked away, we started saying it. And we found we could not stop.
"Is everything delicious at the onset."
"I need to write that down."
"The onset. That's interesting."
"I don't like it when they ask, 'How does everything taste' but this was just over the top."
"Is everything delicious...at the onset. I can't get enough of it."
Anyway, today my mother and brother went to a Giants vs. Dodgers game while my father and I did this:I have always enjoyed dressing specifically to my surroundings. If snow is within 20 miles, I'm head to toe in apres ski. And if I'm sitting by the pool at a desert golf resort, I'm in a caftan, huge hat and turquoise jewelry.
I look like someone's ex-wife.
Speaking of which, I was in one of the ladies shops here, poking around considering things like a long-sleeved fitted t-shirt with a bedazzled peace sign on it, where this husband and wife were bickering. She had spiky blonde hair and ill-fitting velour. He was in the ever-present Tommy Bahama.
"I'm going to go to the bar. I'll be by the fire pit." He said in a fabulous Texan drawl.
"Fine." She shot back.
"Do you want anything?"
"No. What would I need? Leave me alone."
"Okay." He turned to walk out. But then she grabbed him.
"Get me a Chardonnay!"
To this, the other ladies in the store which again, carries things like ombre broom skirts and tank-tops with sequined martini glasses, all chuckled.
And then, this man who I was starting to feel so bad for, turned around and asked, "You want me to leave my credit card?"
At this, all of the women in the shop stopped mid-browse to see how Spike would respond.
"I can charge it to the room. Jesus!"
Every other woman in that store, myself included, audibly tisked.
Deciding against bedazzled Gladiator sandals, I walked outside where a woman was having a fabulous jewelry trunk show out on the massive main lawn. And after playing with a million different pieces, I picked out a cool new necklace and pendant, which you will see me in constantly.
I had to go into the Lilly store to pay for it.
"Charge it to the room?" The saleswoman asked.
"Cash." I responded.
Because while I could probably sneak it in there, I'm not Spike. And this guy's already too nice to me...