Too Sensitive to Criticize

I used to hate being criticized. Heck, who does? Even if the criticism wasn’t adress personally to me, let’s say to my country from somebody abroad (Indonesians or foreigners), my first reaction would be, “Well, your country is bad too!”, stomped my foot, pout, and cross my hands against my chest; instead of acknowledging the facts and accepted it.

It took a question like this to made me stop and think, “Why are [some]Indonesians so sensitive (and couldn’t take criticism)? Is it because you guys were oppressed too long under Suharto?” I do remember, back then, if you dare criticize him or his family or even somebody in his cabinet, either you’d vanish from the surface of the earth or some other consequences with the same level of threat. So yeah… probably our skin got too thin to be criticized.

Having moved to a different country with more openness, which in this case happens to be United States (yeah… yeah… I could hear those cynicals saying, “Sure… praise the US… hate your country… etc etc”), I was ‘forced’ to adapt better to criticism. My face still got red, but I don’t stomp my foot and pout anymore. I mean, if somebody told me I made a mistake or point out my weakness, that would mean that person does care and it’s for my own betterment.

It saddens me to see how unacceptable some people back home are to criticisms. I made a comment on a friend’s status in Facebook -”… nggak heran Indonesia dilabeli ‘negara teroris’ or ‘no wonder Indonesia is labeled as terrorist country…”- which had turned into a circle of stomping foot and pouting. From that short statement only, one could understand that was not the one that come up out of nowhere and be the first to call her that. It was an observation. Instead of seeing it as a healthy way of looking at problems, they foresee the criticism as mengorek luka lama or to pick on old wounds.

It is a fact that Indonesia is being called by the international media as a terrorist country. It is hurtful to me too. So what? Somebody started to bombarded me with, “Do you know that the country you live in has this and that not to mention this and that [and the list goes on].” Yeah… again… so what? The US does have terrorism too. It’s a public knowledge. Is it really that taboo to mention something that’s a public knowledge to Indonesians? These guys got so angry, sensitive like PMS women and started calling me names. ‘Pathetic‘ was among ‘the bitch who forgot about her home country’.

Is it because it’s a very delicate mater, religious, or more spesifically, Islam? Ayaan Hirsi Ali in her book ‘Infidel: My Life’  is right then, the major problem with Islam and its followers is THEY DON’T THINK THERE IS A PROBLEM.  I was going to quote the famous Ms. Rima Fauzi, but I couldn’t search that particular post in her website. Similar post written by Fitri Mohan is here.

A wise man once said to me, “If you can’t take criticism, go live in a cave. Or better yet, gro a thicker skin!”

To Snort Or Not To Snort (the H1N1 Mist)

Last Sunday, I went ahead to get the H1N1 (novel influenza A) flu mist. Our local hospital was giving it to people who have ‘direct patient care’. Meaning healthcare workers like me who are 3-6 ft away of patients suspected with influenza-like illness. To be honest, I was having a dilemma about this. I wasn’t sure if this is ’safe’ or not. To snort a live virus was not my favorite thing in the world, but if it could protect me from getting the H1N1 (also known as the swine flu or flu babi, as Indonesians say it), I’d do it.

I’d personally prefer the shot version, but only people in this group could have it:

• Over 50 years of age
• Pregnant women
• People who have a severe allergy to chicken eggs
• People who have had an allergic reaction to a flu vaccination
• People who have developed Guillain-Barre syndrome within 6 weeks of receiving an influenza vaccination.
• People who have a moderate to severe illness.

Others asked me, “Why would you do that? Aren’t you scared? I wouldn’t do that if I were you. This is new and still experimental. My body is my temple, I will never get anything weird into it.”

First of all, I have faith in nowadays’ medical breakthrough. I may not be religious, but I do believe in science. I understand it’s a clinical trial, but if I could partake in a scientifically controlled study to ensure the safety and effectiveness of the H1N1 vaccine, I would. Second of all, I would not be selfish -not wanting to try on a possible precaution-  for the sake of my two kids who are the age of 7 and 8.

Back then when measles and smallpox were epidemic, could you imagine if nobody want to try to be vaccinated? Not saying that this H1N1 would be as scary as those two, but the number of deaths is rising.  I bet a lot of people was also pessimistic when Emile Roux and Louis Pasteur were working on the first vaccine for rabies by growing the virus in rabbits. And not too many were very enthusiastic to be administered by the vaccination.

Hopefully the inoculation of novel influenza A (H1N1) will be as successful as Edward Jenner’s smallpox. If a milkmaid from the 17th century could do it, so could we.

My body is my temple, and I’d like it good and strong to last a long time.

**Here is more info from CDC about 2009 H1N1 and Seasonal Flu**

To Ignorant Parents Who Let Their Kids Throwing Temper Tantrums in Public

Parents, please STOP it! If you’re taking your cranky kid to a doctor’s office for someone else’s appointment (be it your neighbor, spouse, parents, etc); DO NOT just sit on your fat ass and let your kid screams and cries and throwing temper tantrums for the whole frickin’ 40 minutes!

While your spouse/neighbor/parent is being seen by the doctor, take your screaming kid elsewhere. Don’t you have any shame? Other patients are sick too. Somebody with a migraine doesn’t need to listen to your brat crying his lungs out. Other patient who’s being seen for a depression check, doesn’t want to add more depression by listening to your kid screaming.

How could you be so ignorant and just sit there reading PEOPLE magazine and let your brat rolling on the carpet, kicking the chair, and screaming? It’s probably why your kid is misbehaving, because you don’t discipline them. If I were you, I would take him/her to the car. He/she can scream until the face is blue, inside the car, and not bugging everybody else, especially those who don’t feel well.

Same scenarios I’ve seen in a grocery store or restaurant. If your child is tired, hungry, or just plain bratty; maybe you shouldn’t take them to a public places like that. Maybe you should wait until he/she naps or give them some snacks? It’s just mind boggling to see these parents who won’t/don’t do anything while their kids are throwing temper tantrums. Yes, you should not ‘give in’ to them to ‘teach’ them that by doing so he’d get what they want, but do that teaching in your frickin’ home! Or in the car!

The Annoying Runner/Jogger

I have nothing against runners/joggers. I think they are a good example of a dedicated person. I’ve seen them running during the winter, in the rain, and scorching summer. Hats off for them. Most of these guys are pretty decent, in terms of etiquette of using/sharing the road.

What piss me off is some of them who act like they are the owner of the road. Not using the sidewalk even though it’s there, but running on the busy road instead. I could understand if it’s in the winter and the sidewalk isn’t plowed. But in the bright sunny summer? We drivers have to be extra careful and move to the other lane. If the road is one lane, then we have to wait patiently behind the jogger until the opposite traffic slows down then we can pass the jogger. Ugh, it’s like scratching nails on a chalkboard… Torture!

Then comes the attitude of ‘The Annoying Runners’. They would not stop running even though the drivers got the right to go because of the green light. This morning, on my way to work, I was waiting at the stop light. When the left arrows turned green, of course I go. I saw this female jogger coming, but I thought she would stop since she noticed three cars were turning left to her direction. She did not stop. She almost hit my car. Then she threw her arms up like she’s frustrated because we didn’t stop for her.

Sorry for the inconvenience, that my journey to work to make some money interrupt your effort to shed some pounds… but you’re not the diva of the road even though you certainly act like one.

President’s Speech vs Cub Scout Master’s Promo

Interesting fact #1: Some parents did not allow their kids to go to our school two days ago (Tue, 9/8/09) because Presiden Obama was giving speech to all American school children.

Interesting fact #2: School authority was actually forewarning parents via email if they do not wish to have their children listen to the Presiden’s speech. Below is an example of what was emailed to us parents from school, without disclosing anybody’s name:

We have received a few inquiries from parents about President Obama’s speech to school children scheduled for Tuesday morning, September 8 and how the district is planning to address this event.

The speech, estimated to be approximately 15 minutes in length, will be taped. Then, like other materials teachers may use in a classroom, it will be previewed and a determination will be made to show it as appropriate.  Parents who request that their children not watch this address may do so. The students will have an alternate activity for the time the speech is aired. We are not planning to use any discussion materials provided by outside entities. Those decisions will be made by classroom teachers.

The information we have received has indicated the President’s speech will focus on three main ideas: encourage students to set high goals for themselves, work hard, and accept responsibility for their learning.

If you have specific questions, please contact your building principal.
Thank you.

Sincerely,

xxxx xxxxxx

 

Like hubby said, it’s probably a political thing and the school just want to be ’safe’ not to step on anybody’s toe. He thinks it’s a sad testament to the awful polarity of today’s society.

Which will take us to the interesting fact #3: The day after the speech, just yesterday, my kids told us that there were Cub Scouts Master talking to them during lunch, promoting their organization and to lure the kids into joining them. My son was beaming, “It’s really cool! We will be making cars, roasting marshmallows, go camping, and sleep in a tent! I want to be a Cub Scout!”

How ironic is that -to use hubby’s words- we find ourselves feeling obligated to allow parents to ‘opt out’ of their children’s participation in listening to this country’s highest elected official, but not reciprocating this option for an organization that so openly discriminates against atheist/agnotic children (example here and here).

The school was trying very hard to address certain group’s feeling abouttowards the speech; but failed to address our (atheist/agnostic people) feeling towards this whole Cub Scouts/Boy Scouts/Girl Scouts thing. Were we just to assume that all the kids are religious (Christian)? Why wouldn’t the school forewarn us like they did to the Presiden’t speech? Maybe I don’t want my atheist/agnostic kids to listen to their promo and want to ‘opt out’ my kids from it.

But before we abruptly say ‘no’ to our innocent kids, hubby did a research about Cub Scouts and the like. And we were right, they are an elite religious/military-like club and definitely will not accept our non-religious children. Luckily, our kids are smart enough to know the difference and were OK not to join.

How ironic…

Found: Long Lost Friend

Never underestimate the power of the Internet.

Remember my post about my long lost best friend, Mila? It was posted 04/14/09 -although I did write in 2007 about reminiscing her and Jakarta, thanks to Gwen Stefani’s 4 in the Morning- then about three months later, she dropped a comment in my  ’Saya’ page of this blog! I was with my family one cold Saturday, enjoying brunch in a small local cafe after the kids were done competing at the Iowa Games track and field event. My iPhone dinged to informed that I just got an email. We were still waiting for our food to come, so I checked my Gmail and read that WordPress, my blog host, was asking my approval in relates to someone’s comment to my post. My jaw dropped… it was my long lost best friendher! I was so freaked out! Of course I approved it and replied right away:

emka on July 18, 2009 Edit This

Hi sist, gw lg di puncak, biasa, msh dg kesibukan shtng..
Ada temen ksh tau suruh buka ur blog.. Baca crita kita..
Didinginnya tengah mlm puncak, can u imagine how I feel ?
Tears falling down instantly.. Gosshhh.. Miss u so much !
Miss our friendship, miss everything about us..
Thanks for trying to find me..

Reply

dinysays on July 21, 2009 Edit This

Milaaaaaaa… OMG! Akhirnya nyampe juga suara hatiku -ceile- menyebrangi lautan. Selanjutnya gue email elo aja yah. Miss you, sis!

Reply

After all this time… for about 8 years I did [almost] everything a stalker would do to find her. She must have changed her cell phone number and email. I wasn’t able to reach her there. So I Googled, Youtubed, even Facebooked her name; the result was not satisfying. All results mostly lead me to old news and foto archives from various Indonesian online media.

Then after watching the movie “I Love You, Man” with Paul Rudd which made me think about our friendship,  I decided to write it on my blog. I thought, “What the heck… give it a try.” Months went by without positive news, although some commentators were nice enough to encouraged me not to give up hope and said they’ll try to ask around. Evidently, somewhere in Indonesia, a guy (Mila’s friend whom I also knew) was either bored or doing some PR-ing, did a search on the Net on her name. He, according to Mila, then informed her about my pathetic post; then the rest is history.

***Thanks, Anto… I still feel bad about puking on your lap in the car after a night of clubbing. Very sorry, man.

After a series of hit and miss, we finally were able to chat (I really thank the Internet for bringing Indonesia closer to me virtually). She was having trouble installing the chat programme into her Blackberry for a while.

These messages were sent while you were offline.

5:35 AM mkarmelia: Sorry BB lg ngehang mulu sist.. Baru di upgrade niy..

Sorry lg trouble logging ke google talk niy
Powered by Telkomsel BlackBerry®

So I waited patiently to see that little green bullet ‘available’ icon appear next to her name whenever I open my Gmail. Patience is a virtue, they said. How true. I was at work last Wednesday morning, and was checking my Gmail. all of the sudden, a pop up window showed up on the lower right screen of my computer.

8:58 AM mkarmelia: Hi sis, pa kbr ?
 me: WAAAA!!! ADA MILAAA!!
8:59 AM mkarmelia: Heheheeeee… Maaaaaap !!!
9:00 AM me: ga papa lageee… lagi di mana sis?
 mkarmelia: Drmh lg skt, beteeee.. Dirimu ?
9:01 AM me: kantor. sakit ape? kangen gue sampe sakit begitu, kaciaan :p
9:02 AM mkarmelia: Kejar setoran biasaaaa.. Mplu..
  Kntr apa sis ?

… and so on and so forth

Thank you Leonard Kleinrock for pioneering this, I had found my long lost friend now. 

I’m so glad I found you again, sis. Hope you wouldn’t mind me posting your cute pic with the twins 

Demanding People are Insecure?

Didn’t your parents teach you how to say ‘Please’ and ‘Thank You’ when you ask for something to anybody?
Did you know that if you ask somebody a favor nicely, you’re more than likely to get it?
Weren’t you educated to be polite to everybody, no matter who they are?
Is this about self-absorbed and a need for instant gratification,  ’acting up’ and demand your way around?
Is being demanding and nasty your way to leash your anger on to others?
Do you know that by showing your rage, anger, tears, attack, whine, self-pity, etc to demand your needs would mean you’re a manipulative person?
Do you know that your ridiculously demanding behavior shows that you’re an insecure person?

“I pity the fool!” – Mr. T 

**To fellow receptionists/customer services: “Hang in there!”

“The Ball was IN, you Cheater!”

I’ve always thought that tennis is a gentleman’s sport. Where the spectators need to ‘behave’ and not acting too rowdy like football, baseball or soccer. When you watch the US Open or the Wimbledon, you’d see the female spectators were dressed ever so elegantly. Big fancy sun hat, fashion shades, cute dres… tres chic!

But, having gone to some tournaments for our daughter, Davi, I quickly learned that it’s not always the case. I saw a lot of poor sportmanship from those young athletes. See, junior tennis has an interesting rule that -IMHO- contributes to their cheating behavior. I was dishearted because we, as parents, and the tennis academy our daughter is in, are always pushing the kids to be honest, fair and to be a good sport. My daughter always serves from behind the serve line, not even an inch of her foot crosses the line. She never announced purposely that a returned ball is out when it’s actually in; she’s taught that getting a point that way is disgraceful. The way junior tennis players were taught was, if you’re not sure whether the returned ball from your opponent is in or out, you should declare it as in. Of course, not everybody’s following the rule.

That was the case when Davi had her first tennis tournament in Omaha, NE. In the final, she was playing against a girl who’s two years older and much bigger than her. Let’s call her Morgan. Oh wait… that was her real name. Anyway, the snobbish attitude didn’t bother Davi too much, but the number of time she cheated, frustrated Davi. Nine out of ten, Morgan would yelled ‘OUT’ when Davi’s return was clearly inside the lines. Even the ‘line official’ was frustrated with that and sternly said,” Was that in or out? You want to declare it as out? Okay, but WATCH YOUR LINE BETTER next time.” But Morgan kept doing it. As her point went up, Davi’s confident went down. I saw the frustration on her face, like she’s trying hard not to cry. I could understand her pain, because not only it’s her first tennis tournament, but she’s playing older and bigger girls.

On the event website, anybody would be able to click on a participant’s name to see their history or records. We noticed that Morgan had played some tournaments before and definitely had some experience. But when we asked her parents, they told us it was her first ever. Why’d they lie?

Jonathan Casper from North Carolina State University wrote a report entitled You Can’t be Serious, that Ball was IN: An Investigation of Junior Tennis Cheating Behavior:

 Cheating in youth tennis is a prominent issue. There are many opportunities to make a bad call or call the score in one’s favor without an outside spectator being able to overrule because the players make the line calls and report the score themselves,. When faced with a game or match point a player can call a ball out that was obviously in. The opponent can question the call, argue, and disagree, but the call will stand under the rules of play. The opponent is rendered helpless against cheating due to the rules and the lack of an official.

Casper also wrote that cheating in junior tennis is a result of three influences: coach, parental, and personal. While there hasn’t been any direct link to cheating, parental pressure could influence cheating. He wrote, according to Robert Giltinan, a junior coach for the Australian National Tennis Association:

The parents are putting a lot of pressure on them (junior players) from a much younger age now because of all the money in the game. I think every match they play is really important and a lot of the time they are not playing for themselves, they’re playing for their parents.

 

How sad…

I’ve always been afraid to be one of those ‘hardcore parents’. Our son joined the city’s program of Tee Ball and it was not a competitive program at all. But oh my, there’s this dad who’s always shadowing his son, shouting at him, “COME ON, BILLY, RUN FASTER. YOU GOT TO PUSH IT! NO, NO, NOT THAT BASE, YOU’VE GOT TO GO BACK TO SECOND BASE! ” It was a program for 6 and 7 year olds, for crying out loud. Let them have fun. Let the coach/instructor takes care of the ‘teaching’ part. Just sit down on your folding lawn chair and enjoy your beer, I’d rather not see your butt crack from your super low rise jeans.

Back to tennis. All I care about is that Davi is still having fun playing this sport. As long as she loves doing it, I don’t mind paying for it, drive her back and forth to practice, even out of town to go to tournaments. I’d wait for 2 hours by the hot and no-moving-air court instead of the air con visitor area. Got roasted under the sun waiting for her tennis match. There is a difference between being supportive and pushy. The first one was based on love and putting the kid first, while the later one was based on your ambition thus putting you first.

Love, Deuce, and Butt Cramp

Blame it on the Wii Tennis. Since we got it about two years ago (gosh… has it really been that long?), my daughter Davi and I have been hooked ever since. We got really good and reached a ‘pro’ rank, that’s when Davi decided to take our ‘game’ outdoor. Being untrained properly, lack of knowledge on how to do the scoring, but yet her fondness of tennis kept growing, we decided to have Davi take a tennis lesson through the local Park and Recs program. We then took it to the next level, with her enrollment to Ames Tennis Academy. She’s been doing great since.

When I take her practice, I like to watch. I don’t drop her off then do errands. Though it’s a 90 minute practice, I enjoyed watching her every minute of it. I prefer to watch right on the court instead of through the glassy windows from the air-con waiting room. That way I could hear the sound of the hard-hitted ball being whacked by the racquet better. I could see better what Davi was doing, right or wrong. I could hear better the coaches’ suggestion to improve her technique. I also loved ’listening’ to her during practice, some stuff she’d like to say to herself like “Oh come on!” when she missed returning a ball or just a simple and quiet “Ugh” when she hit really hard.

I got into it so much, I sometimes feel intensed when she couldn’t hit a ball, or couldn’t serve right. I honestly thought she could do better. Well, it looked easy enough. That’s why I wanted to learn to play tennis. Plus, it’d be fun to be able to play tennis properly with my daughter. I’d like to be able to rally with her, instead of just a hit and miss -I serve, it’s out; she serves, I couldn’t return.

I enrolled to park and Recs program and it was done all night for 10 days, Monday through Thursday, started at 6:30 pm for an hour, outdoor. The weather’s been very hot and humid lately, and as much as I dreaded to go to practice after a long day at work, I managed to just miss a day -when Davi was sick and hubby had to go to an after hour meeting. Although at first I didn’t want to go, I ended up having a good time despite the bodyache, sore shoulders, and thighs cramp.

I owe Davi an apology. For all those time I groaned when she missed hitting a ball, I couldn’t do it any better. There’s something funky about this hand-eye coordination business, because I suck! I could see the ball, knew where it’s going, I placed my racquet at the right place and time (or so I thought), but when I swung my racquet, I did not hit the ball. It went straight through my racquet as though there’s a hole in it.

On the very first day of practice, there were 7 of us. Couple of days later, there’s another guy joined. We were asked why we took this lesson, what’s our goal after it’s done. I honestly told them that I just wanted to be able to play tennis with my daughter and to understand more about this sport. I wasn’t hoping to be a technically-advanced player or to be an athlete. Just to be able to play, is all.

To my surprise, I wasn’t horrible at all. One of the coaches, who’s also my daughter’s coach, said, “Now I know where Davi got her talent from.” He said that even though my technique wasn’t perfect, I did have a good posture and basics. Among the seven, I was right in the middle ability-wise. There were two younger girls who played tennis at high school and college, and one guy who took private tennis lesson at the academy where my daughter is. There’s this one Vietnamese guy, whose name is Lam, “It’s spelled el-ey-em. LAM. Not el-ey-em-be, LAMB. No em, I’m not going to baaa.” I actually called him ‘Engergizer Bunny’ or ‘Mr. Stretchypants’ because of two things: he has tons of energy, always hyper and talks a lot while goofily plays tennis; and he always HAS to stretch for a certain length of time. I mean, the others do the ‘warming up’ but Lam does ‘the stretch’ very seriously.

Growing up in Indonesia, a badminton-lover country, I had a difficult time adjusting to tennis. In badminton, which I played a little bit, we take turns in serving; while in tennis you serve the whole time in one game. Although both badminton and tennis recognize forehand and backhand, I got mixed up in the way we hit the ball. In badminton, you hit the ball mid air; while in tennis, you wait after one bounce. That’s how I got mixed up sometimes. When I saw my opponent return the ball kind of high, instead of stepping back and let it bounce once, I hit it mid air and ended up hitting it too hard, thus out of line.

My favorite routine was ‘volley’; where you get close to the net and try to return the ball just by ‘a touch’. Kind of like ‘netting’ in badminton. My least favorite one? To serve. I know it’s crucial, but I just detest it. It’s not easy to try to hit the ball from behind the service line, diagonally across the net, in the service box.

Now, the hardest part for me is trying to keep up with the scoring system, especially when we played double. The moving of left and right, behind the line or further in, was a bit too much for my brain. Added to it was the concept of love, 15, 30, 40 and deuce. OMG… whoever invented deuce, must’ve smoked weed at that time.

But I did have fun. Regardless how many times I feel like I was going to have a cardiac arrest, suffering from butt cramps, neck strain, or pulled muscles… I’m still glad I did it.

Now where’s my Wii remote… I mean my racquet… off to the court. Love, Deuce, ouch… butt cramp!

Not Everything is Good at Tutto Bene Restaurant in Ames

Tutto bene means ‘everything is good’ in Italian. Apparently, it’s also a well known name for restaurants, according to Google. Unfortunately, not everything is good with the Tutto Bene retaurant in our little town of Ames, Iowa.

Opened almost a month ago, the owner’s brother owns a Mexican restaurant, Cazador, which is pretty popular in Ames. Since Cazador is very close to my office, we go there for lunch quite often and was very surprised when we’re told that they’re opening an Italian restaurant. Although Mexican and Italian cuisine both use tomatoes as main ingredient a lot, they’re not quite the same. Mexican food uses tomatoes for the condiments, mostly. While Italian food uses tomatoes mostly as sauces. I did have some hesitation towards the Mexican-owned new Italian restaurant.

So the four of us went to try it out one day for supper. I’ve not been a big fan of Italian cuisine due to my disliking to tomato-based food (except for pizza). But in spite of our family eagerness to be open to try anything new -food especially- plus my daughter is a big fan of pizza and spaghetti while my son’s loving lasagna.

The location is not new to us. It’s located at the former building of Mexican restaurant O’Malley and McGees. Interior-wise there was not a big change; including the seating arrangement. The lighting was not too bright nor too dark. Rather formal table setting with table cloth, tall big wine glass, and real silverware. We were seated rather quickly by a well mannered Mexican waitress. “Alright, this is going to be good,” we thought.

Time to order the food. Hubby chose the antipasto platters for the appetizer, which he claimed as ’surprised’ to see it on the menu. ‘Surprised’ in a good way; more like ‘impressed’. Antipasto is the right Italian way to start a meal, and it cost $8. I ordered a chicken marsala (it’s ‘pollo marsala’ on the menu) for myself, while hubby ordered some kind of pasta dish. For the kids, we got them spaghetti with meatballs and lasagna.

 

The food was horrible. Started with the antipasto; the cured shrimp tasted old like ‘meat gone bad’ kind of taste while the marinated vegetables tasted weird. My chicken marsala was disappointing because the chicken felt like like rubber; like it was a frozen chicen breast and nuked in the microwave.  They served it with green and red bell peppers, which was the first time for me to see. Hubby’s pasta and Davi’s spaghetti were over cooked, while the meatballs were very chewy and tasted horrible. We were hoping that the lasagna would be better, but it was less than warm and hard to chew. The only thing we could eat was the bread.

Since we couldn’t finish the food and the kids were still hungry, we opted to leave to go elsewhere for dinner. “Would you like a box to take your food home?” the waitress asked. “NO!” hubby and I answered in unison. “No, thank you,” I smiled politely.

On our way home, we turned in to McDonald’s drive thru. Nothing is more reliable than the good ol’ artery clogging Big Mac!