Estimated reading time: 4 minutes
Guess what we did this morning??
We cinched up our sweats and marched straight into the mouth of the dragon—because nothing says “self-care” like voluntarily entering a building where strangers hurt you on purpose.
First, we rode the stationary bikes at breakneck speed. Next week I’m strapping a tiny red horn to mine, and when I hit five miles I’m going to toot-toot like I just won the Tour de Living Room.
Our pain specialists were in rare form this morning, and of course, I drew the Big Boss, the head Kahuna, Mr. Pain. You know—the final-level villain who doesn’t ask, “How does that feel?” so much as announce, “Interesting… let’s see how far that goes.”
Anthony, meanwhile, proudly demonstrated how I could lick my own elbow, requiring only three doses of painkillers, a waiver, and what I assume was a brief out-of-body experience.
I peeked back at Mary, and she was practicing being a pretzel—really committing to the role, too. If someone had sprinkled salt on her, we could’ve sold tickets.
Once we finally made it home and completed our highly technical recovery program (read: sitting down and making dramatic noises), we got back to work. I puttered around the garden, bravely battling weeds that were clearly organized and possibly unionized, while Mary whipped up breakfast like a short-order wizard.
Colleen had already taken off to have lunch with her mom, so the house was just the two of us—alone, unsupervised, and dangerously close to thinking we were being productive.
We got ready for a family dinner at the Old Spaghetti Factory near the Santa Fe train Station in Fullerton. Colleen returned from lunch, and we all departed for the train station around 5:15 pm, perfect timing for a 6:00 pm reservation!
It was a 32-minute drive due to traffic.
The Old Spaghetti Factory in Fullerton opened on this day in 1984! Happy Anniversary!
The Spaghetti Factory in Fullerton.
We were the first to arrive, so we waited in the lounge, but everyone else showed up by 6:00 pm (except Connor, who was coming in from way down south).
We sat and watched people enter and exit the restaurant.
Mary and I sat at the end of the table, which was a bit of a mistake because we couldn’t hear anything (the restaurant is loud).
Joe sat at the head of the table; I got the foot!
Joe and grandson Zack (the one with the menu hat) share stories as great-grandson Remington listens in!
Choose your words carefully, gentlemen; little ears are listening.
I heard Lilly order a “something or rather” cloud, but had no idea what it was! Then, a blue drink with a cloud appeared. I gained two pounds just looking at it.
Even Lilly was surprised!
Colleen showed up tragically under-bearded, so clearly we’ll need to issue her one next time—clip-on, starter beard, full lumberjack… We’ll work on it.
We’re also down a couple of key cast members: Robin is out sick (sending germs a formal eviction notice), and Michele is currently winging her way to Northern California to see Theo—presumably migrating in a graceful V formation like a determined, well-packed goose.
Heavy-duty lenses required!
Becca, Lilly, Colleen, and Amy formed a group and got several pictures taken!
Lilly is getting old; in a few years, I might be a great, great grandpa!
We took a chance with the camera and somehow captured one great-grandson, four grandsons, one son, and the real star of the show: Colleen. (Everyone else is basically just her supporting cast.)
By 8:00 p.m., we were all tired and ready for the drive home!
It was a thirty-minute drive home.
There was no traffic, and we zipped home in about 16 minutes.
When we finally got home around 8:30 pm, everyone crashed. Colleen was still on Eastern Time—so for her it was already 11:30. Mary’s back was sore from her morning workout, and I planned to download my photos and read for a bit… but “for a bit” didn’t last long.
