So after the disastrous interview, I decided that the day was shot, anyway, so I phoned the parents to see if they wanted to meet for a late lunch. They haven't seen or heard from me much of the week. And they don't usually go out together (after 30+ years of marriage, there really isn't anything to talk about). I was thinking Tim Horton's, they had a different idea.
We went to this Italian/Polish place out in Port Kells. Yes, Italian+Polish. Also known as "health food store". There are all kinds of carbs on the menu, balanced out by heavy meats. Yay. The best part is that it's in a bit of an industrial area, so the clientele is really high-class. But, we're talking about perogies here, so I'm not going to argue.
As it always is with my mother, there was a bigger plan in store. Since we were so close to Fort Langley, why not stop there for dessert? (Well, because we've had nothing but carbs for lunch, so, why not add ice cream to it?) They like a little coffee place/soda shop that's on the main street of Langley. It's a modern interpretation of the olde tyme soda shoppes, complete with all the stereotypes and kitsche. Thankfully, they don't make the staff wear poodle skirts or something horrific like that.
But I really didn't want to pile ice cream right onto the log-jam of perogies in my gut, so I suggested that we stop by the antique mall for a peruse. You never know what you're going to find. As it turned out, I found a deeeelightful little cookbood courtesy of Time Life which I really wanted to pick up for Xine. Except my gag reflex took me out of the store too fast to pay for it. You see, the book, labelled "Variety Meats" contained too many creative uses for tongue and tripe. And unusually, the pictures were lurid and clear. Therefore, nausea.
The mother found a couple of books to buy, but got stuck in line behind an annoying couple who were apparently buying $600 of "antiques" which included two different styles of snowshoes and a toboggan. The problem was that their many forms of plastic payment kept falling through (ie their credit cards kept being rejected). I felt bad, because the shoplady was nervous about the transaction, but the husband had loaded all the junk into their car while the wife shuffled credit cards, hoping that one would go through.
Luckily, I don't have that problem. One card = one chance.
Happy personal narration, y'all.
We went to this Italian/Polish place out in Port Kells. Yes, Italian+Polish. Also known as "health food store". There are all kinds of carbs on the menu, balanced out by heavy meats. Yay. The best part is that it's in a bit of an industrial area, so the clientele is really high-class. But, we're talking about perogies here, so I'm not going to argue.
As it always is with my mother, there was a bigger plan in store. Since we were so close to Fort Langley, why not stop there for dessert? (Well, because we've had nothing but carbs for lunch, so, why not add ice cream to it?) They like a little coffee place/soda shop that's on the main street of Langley. It's a modern interpretation of the olde tyme soda shoppes, complete with all the stereotypes and kitsche. Thankfully, they don't make the staff wear poodle skirts or something horrific like that.
But I really didn't want to pile ice cream right onto the log-jam of perogies in my gut, so I suggested that we stop by the antique mall for a peruse. You never know what you're going to find. As it turned out, I found a deeeelightful little cookbood courtesy of Time Life which I really wanted to pick up for Xine. Except my gag reflex took me out of the store too fast to pay for it. You see, the book, labelled "Variety Meats" contained too many creative uses for tongue and tripe. And unusually, the pictures were lurid and clear. Therefore, nausea.
The mother found a couple of books to buy, but got stuck in line behind an annoying couple who were apparently buying $600 of "antiques" which included two different styles of snowshoes and a toboggan. The problem was that their many forms of plastic payment kept falling through (ie their credit cards kept being rejected). I felt bad, because the shoplady was nervous about the transaction, but the husband had loaded all the junk into their car while the wife shuffled credit cards, hoping that one would go through.
Luckily, I don't have that problem. One card = one chance.
Happy personal narration, y'all.
posted by kuzcolike at
3:07 PM
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