The weather broke finally in Michigan yesterday, going from 55 to 85 in a day. We knew it was coming, so made a plan with friends to dine in a little town at a sidewalk café.
The guys golfed first. Al took a half a day off work just so he could get in 18 holes. We didn’t think the place would be crowded, didn’t think every single person in Michigan had been waiting for the warm weather with as much anticipation as us. Didn’t know, that in downtown Romeo, Thursday night is biker night.
Jan and I met the guys at the restaurant, where Al had a glass of Chardonnay waiting for me. There were little beads of condensation on the glass instead of frost! What a welcome beverage after the crazy busy day I had yesterday. And the food was pretty good, too. Younger’s Irish Pub has the best sweet potato fries in northern Michigan.
Al took the photo above. He gave away three motorcycles when we moved away from his super-size garage. I think he’ll buy one of these shiny new toys when he retires or maybe even tomorrow. He was really eyeing the action on the street.
There’s this thing he does when he thinks I’m not paying attention. I didn’t catch on for a really long time, but now that we have the camera phones, I’ll ask him to shoot a pic for me and then go to send it to myself and pop! the things my eyes have seen. Of course I delete the honey shots immediately. And then I say a few choice words about DOGs (Dirty Old Guys).
He had our waitress in the frame last night … I saw him pointing and ready to click & said don’t you dare. I used to be a waitress and I remember the DOGs with distaste, even disgust. Ugh. Don’t they know they’re bald? Don’t they know I’m only twenty? Don’t they have granddaughters my age?
Now that I’m not so young myself, bald heads and pot bellies don’t faze me. Nobody who lives as long as I have (59 years) escapes what time does to our faces and bodies. So why not just accept it and act your age, my dear husband? Then again, I guess a man can dream. About bad motorcycles, not sweet young things.