Killing the fatted calf...or not

Sometimes, with apologies to Jordan and all she does for me, I think the child who stays close to home gets taken for granted while we trot out the fatted calf for the one who doesn't visit often. That's sort of how I felt last night when Colin (Houston) and his family plus another family stopped to spend the night on their way from Santa Fe to Houston. They arrived about 8:45 and there was no fatted calf--dry cereal they brought with them was more like it. My offers of wine, beer, and ice cream were politely declined. But oh my goodness, the children and Sophie had a wild picnic, and this morning the living room was a mine field of dog toys which sweet Morgan promptly cleaned up for me, dumping them all into Sophie's toy basket.

Colin did his three chores--pass on a couple of paintings I have no place for and thought he might take home, spray WD 40 on the 80-year-old trike that the kids, no matter how big, continue to ride, and rearrange my cupboard so that the crock pot is not high up where I have to climb on a stool to get it. (Sons are so helpful!)
Jordan and Jacob arrived while I was still dozing, and they were amazingly quiet. But we got everyone dressed, cars loaded, Jordan off to work, and the rest of us went to Carshon's, Colin's favorite, where, to his delight, he could have lunch for breakfast. His friends had never been anywhere like it and loved the food. The kids--five of them including Jacob--had a high old time at their own table. No wonder the owner didn't recognize me and when she did said, "I wondered who all those people were." We lingered almost two hours over breakfast, and when we came home all thoughts of taking Jacob someplace wonderful had evaporated. I was tired.
Tonight I capped off the day with a  happy hour with Jordan, followed by dinner with two good friends. We went to Little Red Wasp where they have the world's best hot dogs--hmmm, Stag's Leap Chardonnay and hot dogs! Not to be beat.
It's early to bed for me tonight and though I'd like to say back to work tomorrow that doesn't quite work. There will be 16 at the house for enchiladas celebrating Jordan's [no, I'm not forty] birthday on Sunday. Lots of work to do!

Well, drat!

I wear a medical alert bracelet, though I've never used it. If you read this blog regularly, you'll know I inadvertently tested it with a false alarm in the middle of the night recently and caused quite an uproar in my family and my neighborhood. I wear it because I live alone and because, as my children will be quick to tell you, I have been known to fall. But not lately. Still it's a nice security measure, and it gives me some degree of comfort to know I have it on.
Well tonight I glanced down at my bracelet and noticed the alert button is missing. It just apparently fell out of its "secure place." I've looked in the usual places, called the restaurant where I had dinner, emailed the people whose cars I rode in today. The most frustrating part is that this happened once before, and I ordered a new alert button at a cost of $60. Then I found the original one, comfortably sitting in a corner of the cupboard where I keep dinner dishes. So theoretically I have two buttons--but do you think I can find that safe place where I put the extra button? Of course not. My kids will be here this weekend and will no doubt scour the house. Meantime I hate to order another one because I'm just sure one will turn up
On a cheerier note I had a really good and interesting supper tonight at a downtown place called the Little Red Wasp. The manager even came by to comment on our menu choices--white wine and hot dogs. We began the meal with homemade potato chips (still warm) and ranch dip-I know next time Betty will insist on pimiento cheese with corn chips and I'll be agreeable. Then we split a hot dog--I asked what kind of hot dog and never got more than it was pure beef and no casing, but I will say it was delicious. Dressed with homemade chili, onions, and pickle relish it was pure delight--even with white wine.
We'll go back there (even with a $5 valet parking charge). I have my eye on the Reuben next. But I just might have to have another hot dog.