Sometimes, Mommas Eat Hot Food

Well inducted into the world of cold and interrupted meals with their two children, our daughter, Jana,  and her husband Aaron planned an evening out  with just the grown-ups. 

No kids.

The women wanted to dress up, the men wanted to go casual. The women wore newer jeans with new tops. The men wore older jeans with old shirts. We shaved, they didn't.  We have all  learned the art of compromise in marriage.

Jana and I not only looked great, we both smelled great. I haven't smelled like baby urp in about five years, Jana about five minutes. We got out the door unscathed to enjoy an evening as adult friends, not as parents and child. This new stage of relationship has been a blessing, and a relief.  We have passed on the parenting baton with our firstborn.

One down, five to go.  But, who's counting?

They chose the Matsu Japanese Restaurant, where we ate very amazing, very hot, teppan-yaki food. It was hot because they cooked it in front of you. He even cut it into bite-sized pieces for us while he cooked. Parents who have cut up three meals a day into tiny little, non-chokable pieces,  totally appreciate that detail.

My husband satisfied his raw tuna craving with the Spicy Tuna Roll. Yes, that tuna is raw, very raw.

The chef is part juggler, part entertainer, part stand-up comic. It isn't just a meal, it is an experience.

Our fried rice was prepared then shaped into heartburn, then a beating heart, then Mickey Mouse.

A slice of onion became a flaming volcano.

Each part of the meal was prepared along with antics, including tossing, noise-making and flipping unused items, like shrimp tails, into his chef's hat.

Like a gringo, I asked our chef if he was Japanese.  He laughed, admitted he was born in Mexico, but assured me his Japanese name was Orlando.

 I didn't have to ask Hana, our waitress, if she was Japanese. I figured that one out all on my own.

She recommended Red Bean Ice Cream for desert. I'm thinking the only red beans I know are kidney beans. Azuki beans are NOT like the red beans I know. It was  deliciously unfamiliar.

The service was great, the show was entertaining, the  food was delicious, but somehow, the highlight of the whole evening was watching my daughter eat a hot meal.

How to Eat a Ruby's Hotdog

To fully experience California, the extended family gathered  on  Huntington Beach to enjoy a Pacific Ocean sunset.

I am always a little annoyed that people dare stand between my camera and my view,

 but somehow those silhouettes always end up enhancing my photos, not ruining them.

We were told by many we had to eat at Ruby's Surf City Diner.

 Since we give in to peer pressure easily when it comes to food, we walked down the long pier to sit in those  vintage red and chrome chairs and eat some really good American food.

Fisherman trying to utilize the last fragments of sunlight on the end of the pier.

Brookelyn was tired from the day on the beach, the long walk down the pier, and the wait for her food, so she dove right into the hotdog, giving a great tutorial.

If you think you are a big girl, hold the hotdog with only one hand.

Stop eating long enough to quietly exclaim to Daddy how good the "da-da" is.

If you want to dig your little nose right between the buns, use both hands to hold onto the hotdog.

When you get tired of the bun,  pull the hotdog out.

Hold the hotdog vertically and lick all the ketchup off.

Hold the hotdog horizontally and lick the ketchup off.

Set the hotdog down and act like a duck with the bun.

Get in trouble from Mommy for not eating your food while Gramma sheepishly puts the camera away. OK, to be honest, my battery died, or I would have kept taking pics of Brookie being adorably Brookie.

Seems to me, we also had problems when I was with Brookie at McDonalds and a coffee shop.

If I am not careful, my daughter is going to start searching for the blogosphere for a tutorial on,

 "How to be a Well-Behaved Gramma."