(Originally published November 2007)
So, this past week we were in North Carolina. We were visiting friends and family and checking out the area because we hope to move there.
On Sunday evening we had dinner at a restaurant in Chapel Hill called Top Of The Hill, a really cool place where they brew their own beer. Not that I like beer, as evidenced by a conversation before dinner arrived:
John (my brother): Try this, you might like it. (it was a light-colored beer called Old Well White)
Me: Squished face
Liz (my old friend with whom I just reconnected): Try this, it’s totally different. You might like it. (she had Ram’s Head IPA)
Me with a more-squished face: What did they add? Tree roots??
That got a good laugh. Then I ordered reisling.
But I digress. We were eating at a table next to a window that had a view of the patio diners. At the table just on the other side of the window they were celebrating a birthday. My almost 5-year-old neice, Abby, and Liz’s 5-year-old, Jane, couldn’t help but stick their faces on the glass and watch. They even clapped when the candles were blown out.
Next thing we know, the woman whose birthday it was, was standing at our table and offering cake to all the kids. Max isn’t really into cake, but the girls, momentarily stunned into silence, were happy to partake.
Jane, Abby and Liz (notice Abby’s empty cake plate)