Where the Meatloaf's Cold and the Skirts are Short

When I got to Ettamae's Cafe today, the smiling staff said that my party was waiting for me upstairs. Except that I didn't have a party; I was just meeting my friend. They suggested I go on upstairs and wait in comfort and they'd send him up when he arrived. "How will you know which one is my friend?" I asked. They seemed confident.

Turns out they were right because my friend had brought a guest so I did have a party waiting for me up there. And we turned out to be a meat-loving party, finally deciding on the shaved rib eye and grilled onions on a sub roll (me), the kielbasa with sauteed onions and peppers on sub roll (guest) and, after much discussion, Dad's meatloaf sandwich on white bread (friend).

I say "much discussion" because my friend asked if the meat loaf would be hot. Yes, our server told us, it would. Friend wanted cold meatloaf, like when you have leftover meatloaf in the frig and make a sandwich with it the next day.

Our server said it could be cold. Friend didn't want to be too much trouble, and said he would eat it warm if it was easier. Our server went in search of cold meatloaf. I think servers have a name for people like him.

And when the sandwich came, the first thing he did was touch the meatloaf and grin, "Cold!" I put out an exploratory finger and then decided against sharing my germs. He slathered ketchup on his meatloaf and took a bite, looking like a happy camper, even complimenting the excellent white bread.

The bread was thick, the meatloaf was thick and he ended up finishing only half his sandwich. Both guys were quite satisfied with Mom's potato salad while I thoroughly enjoyed my rib-eye sandwich with a side of fresh fruit salad.

This particular friend likes to tease me about the lack of devices in my life. Asking if I had an iPod, he was nonetheless surprised to learn that I didn't (I think he expected my love of music to override my disdain for excessive technology). "No TV, no cell phone, no iPod," he detailed to our guest. "She could practically be Amish."

"Well, except for the way I dress," I reminded him, as I sat there in my fitted light blue /olive/cream colored flowered linen dress.

"Yea, you'd have to dress in all one color," he acknowledged. I raised my eyebrows. "And...?"

"And they couldn't be so short."

Well that certainly wouldn't do, nor would the Amish reluctance to being forward or assertive work for me.

What good would it be having all these opinions if I couldnt force them on others?