With spring fever hitting Richmonders hard today, my friend and I knew better than to think we'd be able to eat outside given our delayed start on lunch.
So we went to Lulu's toward the end of lunch hour, knowing we'd be assured of an indoor seat. We'd gotten such a late start because my friend had spent the morning dozing off and on because of a recent cold. I'd finally called him around 12:45 wondering if our plans were still on.
Given the short period between him getting out of bed and our arrival at the restaurant, the first thing he asked for was coffee. Our server, who had pink flowers in her hair ("I'm not a real blond and the flowers are from the Dollar Store" she informed us), inquired if he wanted sugar.
He requested the packets of fakeness instead. "He's trying to hurry up and get cancer," I told her, because I always tease him about using that crap. "Aren't we all?" she smirked. Um, not really.
He ordered the beer-battered fish and chips with mashed peas and I got the house-smoked chicken, mixed greens, avocados, toasted pecan salad with citrus-herb vinaigrette, knowing full well that my friend would share his fried goodness.
My salad was both more and less than stated. The greens weren't mixed but they were all pea shoots, something I love. And it was full of unbilled citrus segments, both orange and grapefruit. It was a perfect meal for a 75-degree day.
Friend's fish and chips were beautifully battered and fried up and I gladly gobbled up the three proffered pieces. Apropos of nothing, a nearby bar sitter shared a joke with us about male and female brains (let's just say it had to do with the male brain calling to the female from south of the belt line).
From that opening, my friend segued into what I'd been up to lately. I rambled off a few of the more interesting things I'd done recently while he gazed at me expectantly. "So what have you been up to?" I asked in return.
"What about your all-day DATE?" he about burst out, referring to the other day, here. Ah, so he'd read my blog and was testing me to see if I was going to share the "details not forthcoming" parts. "Where'd you go? How did you like him? Did you kiss?'" You know, the stuff girlfriends are supposed to ask you.
I guess I should just be satisfied that he reads the blog in between our lunch outings, which have gotten far less frequent now that's in love and cohabitating with a terrific woman.
When our flower-bedecked server asked if we wanted dessert, we did the standard comedy routine where he shook his head yes and I shook mine no. "Since when don't you want dessert?" he asked. Okay, we'll look.
Nothing caught our eye, although my friend had been coveting the Twizzlers our server had next to the register. When she asked if we wanted something, I told her that my friend wanted some of her Twizzlers.
And don't you know when she brought him his second cup of coffee, she brought a ramekin full of Twizzler bits too? I'm not a fan, but he insisted I have one. Biting into what felt like soft plastic, I asked him, "What exactly do you like about these things?"
"The waxiness," he beamed. "And how artificial they taste." Our server overheard and came over to high-five him on that one.
"I love the waxiness, too!" The nearest comparison they could come up with was wax lips, but both agreed that Twizzlers have the advantage because, "You can't swallow wax lips."
While some people were lunching in the sunshine, I was watching a convention of Twizzler nerds. God, I love my life.