Flat Stanley and other tales

If you have children or grandchildren, you probably know about Flat Stanley of the book by that name (I keep wanting to call him Flat Freddy--rolls off the tongue so much more easily). Stanley woke up flat one day and has been sent all over by devoted schoolchildren, who each made their on version. Jacob sent his to Houston and New York relatives who obligingly toured him around and photographed him with all the sights. The New York cousins sent flat versions of two of their children--Ayla and William--so Jordan felt we should show these flat relatives Fort Worth. And one place we had to go was Angelo's BBQ because in his rare visits to Fort Worth from NYC Uncle Mark has eaten tons of Angelo's barbecue. He writes about it, longs for it--in fact, he might come back to FW sometime for the barbecue rather than to see us.
So the other night we took William and Ayla to Angelo's. I haven't been there in years, since a competitor opened up closer to home. But I remember the days when Angelo's had sawdust on the floor--fire department made them stop that. Nothing much had changed except that you no longer pick up your cole slaw and potato salad while waiting in line. The stuffed bear still greets you at the door. Jordan took a picture of William and Ayla with the bear and then the above one of me. (She had looked at me before we went to supper and said, "Colorful. Is that your dinner shirt?" I assured it was and protested, "We're only going to Angelo's.")
Last night's dining adventure was the Kona Grill, which I understand is a chain but new to Fort Worth. In a Hawaiian restaurant, I ordered meatloaf--okay it was called Big Island meatloaf. Good last night, much better cold at lunch today. Betty had a shrimp dish with what looked like glass noodles and declared it delicious. She loves shrimp and delights in eating it in front of me because I'm allergic. But as we went in, she said to me, "I suddenly feel ancient." I think it's a great singles bar, maybe not so cool for two old ladies having dinner.
And tonight's dinner was a bust. A friend who loves pasta came for what I assumed was just a casual weeknight dinner. Turns out today is her birthday, which she doesn't like to celebrate. My pasta dish was, to me, unsuccessful--sauce of butter, garlic, anchovies and fresh tomatoes cooked down. I couldn't taste the garlic or anchovies but sure could taste the fresh parsley--somehow my Italian parsley survived the past winter. Further, the dish was hard to serve and harder to eat, and I got it all over my shirt. One recipe that went into the recycle bin. And I'd so been looking forward to trying it. Oh well, we all have our kitchen mistakes.