Just got back to this thread.

We're going to a restaurant because we want to celebrate Easter (on Palm Sunday) with our "faux family." All of the wimminfolk therefrom are in Chicago (I'm currently in NW Indiana) at a big, big, BIG quilt thing (Quilters: it's called "Houston in Chicago" so you might know how bloody big it is). That leaves John and myself to cook, and we sort of