On his birthday, Youngest gets to choose the place for dinner. I should be grateful it is not McDonald's. [And I would be grateful for that had McDonald's not been his birthday lunch choice.]
He chooses the hometown diner. The food is, you know, diner fare. The coloring pages are, you know, the same caliber as the food.
But what is this coloring page exactly?
Eldest wonders if it's meant to be a bunch of kids undergoing medical treatment.
I think it brings to mind that cult in southern California led by that skinny gray-haired guy. They all dressed in gray jumpsuits, took the poison, and went into outerspace. Or died in their beds thinking they were going into outerspace.
For the life of me, I can't pull the cult's name out from the cobwebs of my mind. It is frustrating beyond belief, this inability to remember trivial crap that I've always been able to remember.
I remember just as we are walking to the car. I come home and write this post without Googling to make sure I am correct.
I will do this before I hit "PUBLISH POST." First, though, I will say that I've become distracted lately, and I'm going to take a breather and tune out for a bit.
I'm not hoping to meet the aliens. I've not purchased any gray jumpsuits. [I've always felt I look my best in black.]
See you on the other side. That's the other side of this break.